And then quite suddenly the face of the black-robed lady grew ashy gray, and she sank down into her chair trembling from head to foot.
“No. I—I mustn’t ask you,” she said hoarsely.
And there was a silence, during which both her young hearers cast down their eyes, feeling that they dared not look at her. It was Mabin who spoke first. Putting her hand between the two white hands of Mrs. Dale, she said gently:
“Is it because you are lonely you want me to come?”
She did venture to look up then, startled by the shiver which convulsed Mrs. Dale as she spoke. And in the blue eyes she saw a look of terror which she never forgot.
“Lonely! Oh, child, you will never know how lonely!” burst from her pale lips.
“Then I will come,” said Mabin. “I should like to come.”
There was another silence. Mrs. Dale had evidently to put strong constraint upon herself to check an outburst of emotional gratitude. Rudolph, moved himself by the little scene, was looking out of the window. The lady in black presently spoke again, very gravely:
“I don’t think you will be very much bored, dear, and you will be doing a great kindness to a fellow-creature. And yet—I hardly like—I don’t feel that I ought——”
“But I feel that I must and shall,” said Mabin brightly. “You don’t know how beautiful it would be for me to feel that at last, for a little while, I shouldn’t be in the way!”