I called to mind, now my thoughts were directed that way, what had passed between Mr.Franklin and Rosanna overnight.

She looked cut to the heart on that occasion; and now, as ill-luck would have it, she had been unavoidably stung again, poor soul, on the tender place.

Sad! sad!--all the more sad because the girl had no reason to justify her, and no right to feel it.
I had promised Mr.Franklin to speak to Rosanna, and this seemed the fittest time for keeping my word.
We found the girl sweeping the corridor outside the bedrooms, pale and composed, and neat as ever in her modest print dress.

I noticed a curious dimness and dullness in her eyes--not as if she had been crying but as if she had been looking at something too long.

Possibly, it was a misty something raised by her own thoughts.