“But why won’t you? I must get in,” said Ralph.
Robina now made no answer of any sort, and Ralph, after waiting outside the door for a few minutes, very disconsolately retreated and went into the garden.
Now the whole of the side of the house where Robina’s room was situated was covered with an old magnolia tree, and this magnolia had a very thick trunk—quite thick enough and firm enough to hold the weight of a little boy, and as Ralph had no fear, and was an excellent climber—in fact, this small person could climb like a monkey—he soon scaled the magnolia, and appeared outside Robina’s window; and as the window happened to be wide open—for she certainly did not expect a visitor by that entrance—a little brown boy with brown eyes looked in at her from the enclosure made by the magnolia, and the next minute, he was inside the room, and pressed to Robina’s heart.
“I love you much—much best of all!” he said; “and father has sent me to you, and—and—I don’t, know anything—but there’s an awful fuss downstairs, and Jane Bush is crying, and Harriet is looking awfully angry—and—I don’t understand half nor quarter what it’s all about. But I love you best; and I choose you; for I know that I can be good with you—and oh! love me, love me a little, for I love you so much?”
Book Two—Chapter Seventeen.
Virtue Rewarded.
When Mr Durrant had at last got quite clearly at the truth of things, and when Harriet, brought to bay, at first struggled to deny, but at last was forced to confess the truth of Jane’s statements, his manner became very decided and summary.
“Jane,” he said; “I have nothing to do with you except to thank you. I leave you your own conscience to punish you for what you did. You were guilty of the great sin of moral weakness. You yielded to the wishes of a companion who was stronger than yourself: but at the eleventh hour you have saved the situation for me, and whoever else punishes you, Jane Bush, I am not the one. I believe, too, in the law of kindness, and I fully believe in that everlasting law of God’s forgiveness. I trust, Jane, that this will prove a lesson to you, and that you will turn over a new leaf; and if, in the future, I can help you, I will: and I know your kind school-fellows will not forsake you. Patience Chetwold, my dear, you have earned my undying gratitude. By your promptness and decision and cleverness and bravery you have saved my dear little son from the greatest catastrophe which could ever have occurred to him. Now, as to you, Harriet Lane—but I would rather speak to you not in the presence of your companions.”