Ralph was playing eagerly with the three Amberleys. He looked a bonny, happy little boy. The rich colour had returned to his cheeks, he had lost that slight look of delicacy which had characterised him for a short time after his illness.
His illness! Robina knew about it now. She had guessed about it before, but now, she knew. Those wet clothes which the maid servant had shown her, were explained. The feverish chill which both Ralph and Harriet had suffered from was also explained. Everything was made clear to Robina. She felt herself almost shuddering. Such wickedness! such deceit! such a deeply laid plot to steal the affections of one little boy seemed too horrible to poor Robina! She felt she could scarcely go on in her present position.
“Harriet is too clever for me,” she thought. “I ought to tell Mr Durrant that I listened: I ought to explain to him what really happened. Oh, what—what am I to do! Ralph of course loves Harriet best now. He naturally thinks her conduct heroic. He is the sort of boy to be enraptured with a deed of that sort; and she did it all on purpose—on purpose—and just to win his love from me. Oh, how am I to bear it! Why did I ever know Ralph? Why was I ever sent to school? I was happy enough at home. There were troubles, of course. There was poor Aunt Felicia, and there was mother—darling mother, who never did understand me, much as I cared for her. But all the same, compared to this life, things were peaceful enough.”
“Hullo, Robina!” said a voice at that moment. “A penny for your thoughts, my dear!”
Robina turned swiftly. Her honest grey eyes flashed, then grew a little dim. Mr Durrant came up to her.
“Do you want to walk about with me for a little, my child, or would you rather I left you by yourself?”
“I will walk with you, of course,” said Robina—“that is, if you care to be with me. But,” she added, “I am not a good companion to-night.”
“And why not? is anything wrong?”
“There is something wrong, and I cannot tell it you. Please don’t ask me.”
“Of course I won’t, my dear girl. In a little company of this sort there are sure to be small jars, but what I feel about your character is this—that there is nothing mean about you. You naturally have your faults. I could imagine, for instance, that you were exceedingly high-spirited—too high-spirited at times. I could also imagine that you yourself needed a little discipline in life.”