JOAN’S CONFESSION.
TWO days later, towards the close of the afternoon, Joan passed swiftly from her father’s room downstairs, on her way to the drawing-room. She did not wish to allow herself time for thought.
George Rutherford had something of a relapse, and Joan had scarcely left him all that day or the day before. Now he was sleeping, and she could venture away for half an hour.
Dulcibel and Nessie must be told what she knew. The sense of this “must” had grown upon Joan, till she felt that there could be no further delay. Joan dreaded the telling unspeakably, and doubted much her own courage when it should come to the point; but perhaps she dreaded putting off even more. For Leo was expected home late that same evening, and Joan knew that after his return speech would be tenfold harder.
So when she found her father quietly resting, and knew that Dulcibel and Nessie would be alone in the drawing-room, Joan rose under one of her sudden impulses, and hastened with rapid steps downstairs.
The drawing-room door stood ajar. Joan pushed it open, shut it behind her, crossed the wide room, and took her position on the thick rug, with clasped hands and downcast eyes, a deep flush on either cheek.
“Mother,” she began, “there is something I want to say to you, please—to you and Nessie.”
“Is it something that Leo may not hear?” asked Dulcibel. For Leo actually stood there, in the large bow-window, making one step forward to meet Joan, and pausing as he noticed the girl’s utter absorption.
“Leo! Oh yes, Leo may hear, of course, when he comes home,” said Joan hurriedly. “We have no secrets from Leo. And I suppose all the world must hear. But I don’t care about that—only about you and father and Nessie.”
“And Leo,” suggested Nessie.