Fred Rayburn was just about to leave the Farm in order to meet the two boys and bring them safe to their mother, when a letter to Janet from Lord Beaucourt stopped him. Very kindly and gently did the Earl break the dreadful news. He told the story very fully, and said that, although the children had not been found in the river, there was no reasonable doubt that they had fallen in, probably in trying to take a drink. He spoke of the character of the Kelmer, from which the bodies of those who were drowned in it were very seldom recovered. And he told of Mrs. Rayburn's serious illness, which it was still feared would end fatally.
"Your letter and the bank-bills I now return to you were lying at her feet. I am told that since her power of speech has returned to her, she talks of having been harsh to the children; and I cannot say whether this is really true, or only her fancy. Certainly she has never been the same since they were lost."
He concluded with many expressions of sympathy, and a promise that Mrs. Rayburn should be well cared for.
Poor Janet! That letter very nearly killed her. At her earnest request, Fred went to England, to ascertain, as far as he could, the truth about Mrs. Rayburn's treatment of the boys; and perhaps there was a wild hope that he might discover that the children had not perished. He did his best, but discovered nothing new about the children.
Mrs. Rayburn had left the Castle, and was in a hospital in London, as her state of mind required careful watching; but she was better, and would, they thought, recover. Fred felt convinced that she had not been kind to the children, and did not feel very sorry when told that he could not see her.
He returned to Canada after a while, bringing no hope, and but little added information.
Poor Janet! Her sorrow was very sore, and it was not lessened by a curious feeling of doubt that took possession of her. She could not believe that her children were dead. If for a moment she felt sure, next moment a doubt sprang up again. She told no one of this feeling, for she could give no reason for it, and whether it added to her grief, or was a gleam of comfort, she did not very well know. It added much to her suffering, for it made her restless and full of longing to go home and search England for her bonny boys. But, after a while, another little Lily came to comfort the poor torn heart, and Janet's grief lost some of its bitterness.
But it had utterly changed her. Her bright colour was gone; her face was still and grave. Her little daughter had the tenderest care, but the merry playfellow with whom Frank and Fred had had many a game of romps, little Lily never knew.
After a while the first manager of "Gray's Hotel" left his situation, and Fred Rayburn was his successor. All feeling against him was quite forgotten. Indeed, with sturdy Gilbert Gray to keep him steady, Fred was a different man. He prospered exceedingly; all things went well with him. And yet, he would have given all his wealth to see his gentle, sad-faced, silent wife look like the pretty, happy Janet who had played with her boys in the old sitting-room over the Gateway.
"Janet," he said one day, when something had made them talk of the lost children, "I wonder how you can bear the sight of me. It was really my fault. But for my folly and selfishness, you would never have had to leave them."