Yet she still nursed her secret sorrow, though she no
longer mentioned it to My Dear. Scarce an hour passed that did
not bring its recollection of Korak, and its poignant yearning to
see him again.
Meriem spoke English fluently now, and read and wrote it as well.
One day My Dear spoke jokingly to her in French and to her surprise
Meriem replied in the same tongue--slowly, it is true, and haltingly;
but none the less in excellent French, such, though, as a little
child might use. Thereafter they spoke a little French each day,
and My Dear often marveled that the girl learned this language with
a facility that was at times almost uncanny. At first Meriem had
puckered her narrow, arched, little eye brows as though trying to
force recollection of something all but forgotten which the new
words suggested, and then, to her own astonishment as well as to
that of her teacher she had used other French words than those in
the lessons--used them properly and with a pronunciation that the
English woman knew was more perfect than her own; but Meriem could
neither read nor write what she spoke so well, and as My Dear
considered a knowledge of correct English of the first importance,
other than conversational French was postponed for a later day.
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