Giovanna made no reply. She smiled, which might have been assent or contempt; it was difficult to say which. She had no intention of betraying herself. Whatever these young women might be, nothing could put them on her side of the question; this she perceived by instinct, and heroically refrained from all self-committal. The child by this time had gone to Sophy, and stood by her knee, allowing himself to be petted and caressed. “Oh, what a dear little thing! what a nasty little thing!” said Sophy. “If papa saw him he would like to murder him, and so should I. I suppose he is the heir?” “But M. Herbert lives, and goes to get well,” said Giovanna. “Yes, what a shame it is! Quel dommage, as you say in French. What right has he to get well, after putting it into everybody’s head that he was going to die? I declare, I have no patience with such hypocrisy! People should do one thing or another,” said Sophy, “not pretend for years that they are dying, and then live.” “Sophy, don’t say such things. She is the silliest rattle, and says whatever comes into her head. To be kept in suspense used to be very trying for poor papa,” said Kate. “He does not believe still that Herbert can live; and now that it has gone out of papa’s hands, it must be rather trying for you.” “I am not angry with M. Herbert because he gets well,” said Giovanna with a smile. She was amused indeed by the idea, and her amusement had done more to dissipate her resentment than reason; for to be sure it was somewhat ludicrous that Herbert should be found fault with for getting well. “When I am sick,” she went on, “I try to get better too.” “Well, I think it is a shame,” said Sophy. “He ought to think of other people waiting and waiting, and never knowing what is going to happen. Oh! Miss Susan, how do you do? We came to ask for you, and when Herbert and Reine were expected home.”