“I mean you could not understand,” she said, “and that is the worst thing of all: and I can’t explain, I can’t! Let me go back please, to-day: and as you cannot love me after this, forget me utterly.”
“It must be as you wish, of course,” said Mr Durrant, very coldly. “I will order a carriage, and see that an escort is provided to take you back to the Brown House. As to my disappointment, we won’t speak of it: what must be, must be.”
He had held out his hand as he led her in the direction of the pond. Now, he let that same hand go. They walked together to the house. Robina went up to her room, Mr Durrant to his study.
“I never was so puzzled in all my life,” thought the good man. “Robina Starling, of all people!”
Book Two—Chapter Sixteen.
Jane Confesses.
At eleven o’clock sharp, all the girls, with the exception of Robina, were assembled in Mr Durrant’s study. He had asked them to meet him there, and they had come. Ralph was also present. The absence of Robina was noticed. The thought of Robina was in every heart, and the words: “Where is she? Can she really have gone away? Has she really told Mr Durrant?” were framing themselves on all lips. But the words were not uttered aloud, and the thoughts in the hearts were unspoken.
Mr Durrant looked very pale and grave. Amongst the girls who had entered the room was Jane Bush. But there was something extraordinary about Jane which Harriet—could she have time to think of anything at such a crucial moment except herself—must have remarked. In the first place Jane, who was never noticed at all by the older girls of the third form, was now practically in Patience Chetwold’s pocket. Frederica Chetwold was at her other side, and behind her were the three Amberleys. Jane’s face was terribly disfigured by crying, and she looked altogether a most woe-begone little spectacle.