Louisa's eyes zipped nervously from sobbing Isabelle to Rochester and back again. She suddenly noticed in the brilliant light of the dining hall, that there was a fraction of pity in the creases of everyone's faces. Everyone, except for Rochester. The grim look on his face seemed like a drastic collapse was about to follow. Louisa couldn't be bothered by it.
She, moving her eyes to the tilting ray of sun that gilded the grey-rugged ground, lept them up to the man's face. Sturdy as it looked, she was more concerned with his aforementioned promise.
"Can we go now?" she said, irritatedly. "Besides the fact that she shouldn't be crying so much for her state. I think, if she is Samantha's sister, she can figure that out. The outing is more impo—"
"Not now!" said Rochester with a sort of remorseful haste. "The case with Isabelle demands my overall attention. And for this sensitive topic, I may need you to leave."
