“I must go to him.” She struggled to her feet, and turning unsteadily, said: “Mrs. Hawkes, will you send word to the Priory of what has happened? And ask whether Lady Eridge will come? She will have to take Caryl away.”
“Yes. Quite right. I hadn’t thought of it.”
Rhoda went slowly to the boy’s room and found him crying in his little bed. His nurse was with him, doing her best to soothe him, but rumours of the tragedy which had killed his mother had already reached his ears, and he would not be comforted without his friend.
“Rhoda, Rhoda,” cried he, as she came in, looking very white, “Is it true? Is mama dead?”
“Oh, they shouldn’t have told you!”
“But I guessed.” She was beside him by this time, and his arm was round her neck. “You remember that evening when she was kind, and kissed me, and cried? I knew that meant something was going to happen, and I’ve wondered and wondered what it was. Now I know.”
Rhoda wiped away her own tears. He drew her head down to his level.
“Poor mama. I’m sorry. She was so pretty!” There was a pause, while Rhoda acquiesced, sobbing. Then he said quickly: “But you will stay with me, won’t you?”
Rhoda did not know what to say.
“Your grandmama will want to take care of you, Caryl, I think,” she said. “She will be very, very kind, and so will your aunts, I’m sure.”