“Don’t worry Ralph, darling,” she said. “She’s so fond of fairy stories—even at her age,”—this to Ralph as Sheila left them, and Ralph smiled as his eyes followed her.
“You will remember she is only a child?” Mrs. Scott said gently as she took Sheila’s seat.
St. Jermyn wondered if she were such a child, after all?
“Perhaps,” said her mother, “it is not so much that she’s a child as that I want you to remember she is a woman. Am I very difficult to understand?”
Ralph thought he understood her perfectly.
“You know, Ralph, I am being absolutely frank with you; the child is very fond of you but we both know—both she and I—that you are fond of some one else. You won’t think because she’s rather a nice thing, and young, that she—”
St. Jermyn interrupted her. “My dear Janet,” he said, “I quite understand. The truth is I was feeling the want of a little sympathy—it is quite true, I did care enormously for some one—but she doesn’t care for me, and I am going to devote myself to politics—it’s horrible to have to admit it, but I am afraid they will always come first with me. I shall some day, I am sure, make a very good and devoted husband, I feel certain of that—and I believe I could make a woman happy, but her interest in life must be—not my interests—but Me. I wonder if you understand—I am showing myself in a very poor light.”
Mrs. Scott rose from the window-seat, and laying her hand on his shoulder said, “My dear boy, in a very bad light—but I don’t believe you are half so selfish as you make out. The day will come when you will fall desperately in love—don’t, I most earnestly beg of you, wait till Diana is married, and then fall in love with her—for your sake, not hers! She would run no danger—but don’t do it! It really need not be part of a political life—and don’t think too much of that life of yours that may some day be written. Have you forgiven me?”
St. Jermyn was almost sure he had. If forgetting is forgiving he very soon forgave her. What he did not forget was the sight of that absurd child sitting in the window-seat reading “Hansard.” How he wished it had been Diana who for his sake had read it!