Now that the doom had fallen, she would never see the Rosenbergs again. She would have to be a governess, if such a post could be obtained.
Keenly she wondered what was passing between Mrs. Mynors and her old lover. Though her nature revolted from the idea, she yet caught herself hoping that a marriage between the two might come about. If this Mr. Gaunt—what an uncomfortable name!—was ready to take his former sweetheart to his home, he surely would offer asylum to her children, or if not, arrange that they could be together elsewhere.
Ah! That would be the thing! She lost herself in visions of this little home with herself, Pansy and Tony in it—no mother to wait upon; for dearly as she loved the privilege of waiting upon her mother, Virginia had to own that it was mamma who made things difficult.
She shut her neatly kept books with a sigh, and as she did so, glancing up, she saw to her surprise, that her mother was opening the garden gate.
She must have caught a very early train home!
Swiftly Virginia sprang up, hurried to the door, and admitted the returned traveller. One glance at the pretty, sulky face, the lids slightly puffed as with recent tears, told Virginia that the news was not good; and her heart sank to a degree so unexpectedly low that she girded at herself for a coward and a despicable person.
"Oh, my dear, you have walked all this way alone in the heat! How tired you must be. We are going to have tea in the garden later on—come to your sitting-room; let me put you on the sofa and take off your shoes. You will soon feel better," she crooned over her mother, as she led her to the couch, tended her gently and lovingly, and—oh, crowning boon—asked no questions.
The care was accepted, but with a reservation which the sensitive girl was quick to feel. Gazing on the averted face and pouting lips, she could almost have thought that mamma was vexed with her, had that not been improbable under the circumstances. What was it? Did mamma think she ought to have met the train? Or did she want special tea made for her alone, immediately? Well, that was easily done. "Lie and rest, dear one," she said sympathetically, "and I will just make you a cup of tea; the kettle won't take five minutes to boil."
When she returned, with the dainty tray, and the wafer bread and butter, her mother was sitting up, her feet on the ground, her elbows on a small table, crying silently into her ridiculous pocket-handkerchief. This could, of course, only mean complete disaster. With a dreadful sinking of the heart Virginia murmured:
"You will tell me all about it when you feel able?"