'She had to move up from the nice apartments below to this dismal quatrième, only one room, and very little in it; and then she was ill for a long time, and the baby was born; and that took up all the ready money there was left. She has been thinking whether she could get any daily-governess work to do among the English; but then, how can she leave the children?'
'Poor thing!' said Wilmet, 'I must go and see her to-morrow.'
'Do,' said her husband affectionately. 'Considering all things, we had better remain here a few days, had we not?'
'Certainly. I will speak about the rooms. Of course we must do our best for her and those poor children. I hope they are girls.'
'No,' said Robin,' boys—Gustave and Achille. Gustave looks preternaturally wise and solemn, with his black eyes and bullet head; but when his mother cried, he went into such an agony, that John had to show him his watch, and give him his stick to ride on, before we could hear ourselves speak. O John, what work you have done to-day!'
'And you too, Bobbie,' said Wilmet kindly, 'you had better go to bed as soon as you have had your coffee.'
Her head was aching enough to make her glad to take the advice; and when she was gone, John lay still, too weary, and yet too comfortable, for the exertion of going to bed; and he was not far from sleep when Wilmet came back from giving her sister the tender care that the shock demanded.
Bitterness and resistance had long been swept away by those terrible tidings; but Wilmet could not forget that she had offended, and gathering herself into a great effort, she stood by the sofa, dignified, but rather constrained, and said, 'I am very sorry about this afternoon, John.'
'You were quite right,' said John, sleepily; 'it was not a business for women alone.'
'That was not what I meant,' she answered. 'I ought not to have made that flat refusal. I did not recollect.'