“It was like Tom,” she said, and hid her blushing face in her hands, overcome with emotion. Knight considerately allowed her a few minutes in which to recover herself, which she speedily did, and said, trying to laugh, “So I am found out at last. How are all my people, Mr. Knight?”
“I suppose you know that your father and mother are not now in Scourby?” he asked, gravely.
“Yes, I know,” she said, “for I have been to see. I had no answer to two letters, although I gave my address in them, so one day I went down to find my home shut up. Do you know where my father and mother are, Mr. Knight?”
“You have been wrong, Miss Wythburn,” said Knight, gently, “so far as your parents are concerned. They have been in London looking for you. I am glad to be able to give you their present address.”
“Oh, thank you, so much.” The Basket Woman could scarcely repress her tears.
“It is not my place to lecture you, and I apologise for doing so; but I cannot help pointing out to you that you owe a greater duty to your parents than you can possibly owe to strangers, even though the strangers are the very poor, who greatly needed a friend. I quite appreciate the real good you have been doing in Paradise Grove, but you know as well as I that it ought not to have been done at the expense of the happiness of your own father and mother.”
“Yes, you are right,” she said, humbly; “but I think you do not know all the facts of the case.”
“I know some of them,” he said; “for instance, that you have the right to wear the graduate’s cap and gown instead of the grey cloak.”
“I prefer the grey,” she said, brightly, rapidly recovering herself; “and although my conscience has not been at rest, I have spent the happiest months of all my life in Paradise Grove. But I am glad you have seen Darentdale. Is it not lovely?”
“It is, indeed; it is almost as beautiful as our new place in Wales. Are you going there with our people?”