“Mother, he knows. It was bearing this that made him so much worse.”
“That dreadful old Mr. Brooke! Yes, of course, it was all his doing. I hope we shall never see anything of him again. If he comes to call, I shall say I am engaged. You needn’t worry yourself, Joan. It doesn’t matter what any of them say or do. Marian has no sort of right over you now.”
Joan murmured some grateful words, as her adopted mother continued to inveigh against Mr. Brooke, Marian and the Cairns in general. Dulcibel’s reception of the news was a great comfort to Joan, but she was keenly conscious of Leo’s silence. “I think I ought to go back to father,” she said presently, and she did not look towards Leo as she rose. Outside the drawing-room door, however, she found him by her side.
“Joan, this does not make any real difference,” he said, with some effort. “You are one of us still.”
“And Mr. Cairns’ grandchild, Leo!”
“It makes no difference,” he repeated. “That has to be put aside. Marian Brooke alone is to blame; and she has acted in such a manner as to forfeit every claim upon you. She must be well aware of this herself, and you see she has not come forward.”
“Please let me go,” was Joan’s response.
“But you and I are still—still—” Leo made a marked pause, a hesitating gasp—“still—brother and sister.”
“Certainly,” Joan replied rather coldly. “I am only afraid that in a little while things will look more disagreeable to you all than now. But we will be brother and sister as long as you wish.”
Joan walked upstairs, a curious half-smile on her face, which had grown paler the last two minutes. “Leo did not like me to call myself his ‘sister’ two months ago,” she thought. “Now—yes, of course I know what he means. Well, perhaps it will save trouble. I could never leave dear father for anybody. And this will make just a little difference with Leo, if with nobody else. He is so like father in some things—but not in that. Leo is proud, and father never had any pride.”