“But—Harriet—what will she think of me?” said Jane.
“What we five think of you seems more to the point,” said Patience. “Now look here, Janie; you are not going to lose your pluck. You think it very dreadful to betray Harriet, but let me tell you that it is fifty thousand times more dreadful to allow a wicked girl like Harriet to have the control and the guidance of a sweet, dear little boy like Ralph. We ask you for Ralph’s sake, therefore, to be brave in this matter, to confess your own sin, and to throw yourself—first on the mercy of God, who is always willing to forgive us when we repent, and next on the mercy of Mr Durrant and your school-fellows. You have done terribly wrong, of course we know that, but you are not the worst culprit. Harriet won’t confess; we have tried her and she is obdurate; you have therefore got to save the situation. And now, please, you will come and sleep in my room to-night, for I don’t want you to see Harriet again between now and eleven o’clock to-morrow morning.”
“Oh dear! oh dear!” said Jane. “Oh, I am too miserable and too frightened!”
“I have one last thing to say,” said Patience. “Would you like your own Bobbie to be under the care of Harriet Lane with no chance of getting away from her?”
“No, no! a thousand times no!” cried Jane, her face turning white, and her words trembling on her lips, so great was her anxiety.
“Well, then; if that is the case, you could not be so mean as to subject Ralph to her influence. But come along to bed; you are tired, you poor little thing.” Patience hardly glanced at the other school-mothers but, taking Jane’s hand, went upstairs with her, and popped her into her own bed at once and presently lay down by her side, wondering what the morrow would bring forth, but feeling on the whole that the odds were marvellously once again in favour of Robina.
Now Robina herself little guessed what her school-fellows were doing, for she slept the sleep of one who is tired out and who owns herself defeated. She slept heavily for several hours and when she awoke the sun was shining into the room. She sprang up in bed, and looked at her little watch, which proclaimed the hour of six. So the night had gone by, and the morning had come. Robina pressed her hand to her forehead. Her own future was quite clear to her; but she was not exactly sorry for herself just then; she was thinking all the time of Ralph. Within her heart there had awakened a love, so passionate, so deep, so true, for that little brown-eyed, brown haired boy that her agony at leaving him was the one and sole thought within her. She had no time just then to spare for thoughts of personal loss: she was only thinking of Ralph. She could not betray Harriet: noblesse oblige forbade. She must go, and Ralph must suffer. But she felt that she could not endure to be present when Mr Durrant made his decision. She would tell him in advance that she withdrew from the conflict. He would be home early that morning.
Robina sprang out of bed and dressed. She ran downstairs. There was a servant up who told her that a carriage had been sent to meet Mr Durrant at the railway station, and that he would, in all probability, be back at Sunshine Lodge a little before eight o’clock.
“Then I will go to meet him,” thought Robina. “He must see me alone, for he must make arrangements to send me home to-day. I will just see him and tell him, and then there will be an end, as far as I am concerned. I will ask him to let me go by the very first train, so that I need not say good-bye to the other girls; only I should like just to see Ralph once again.”
Robina thought for a time. It was only a little after seven: she would have time: she ran softly upstairs and swiftly down one of the long corridors until she reached Ralph’s room. Very, very softly she unfastened the door, and very gently did she steal in. Without making a scrap of noise, she knelt down by the little white bed and looked with all her heart in her eyes at the boy as he lay asleep. She gazed on this beautiful little face as though she would impress it on her memory for evermore. Then, bending forward, she pressed a kiss, light as air, on the sleeper’s forehead, whispered “Good-bye, Ralph; God bless you always,” and then she stole away. She had made her entrance into the room and her exit from it without in the least disturbing the little lad who was so happily enjoying himself in Slumberland. But the minute she had left, he began to dream of Robina, and when he awoke some little time afterwards, it was with her name on his lips.