ulous in"—but the rest was lost in trill after trill of laughter; and these were then lost in sobs.
The Warden had risen from his chair. "My dear," he said, "I wasn't laughing. I was only—trying to imagine. If you really want to retire from—"
"I do," moaned Zuleika.
"Then perhaps—"
"But I don't," she wailed.
"Of course, you don't, my dear."
"Why, of course?"
"Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is very natural after this wonderful, this historic day. Come dry your eyes. There, that's better. To-morrow—"
"I do believe you're a little proud of me."
"Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grandfather's heart— But there, good night, my dear. Let me light your candle."
She took her cloak, and followed him out to the hall table. There she mentioned that she was going away early to-morrow.
"To the convent?" he slyly asked.
"Ah, don't tease me, grand-papa."
"Well, I am sorry you are going away, my dear. But perhaps, in the circumstances, it is best. You must come and stay here again, later on," he said, handing her the lit candle. "Not in term-time, though," he added.
"No," she echoed, "not in term-time."
