“Trix brought some of your letters to show us. His name was mentioned very often, Ruth. I had a presentiment that you two would be more than friends. You must forgive me, but one’s perceptions grow keen when one’s interests are strong. I thought that very probably Mr Farrell had some such hope in inviting you and Mollie to meet these two men.”
“Perhaps he had. I have thought so, too, but, in any case, it has come to nothing. Jack Melland cares for nothing but his work, and Mr Druce—”
Ruth hesitated, possessed by a sudden impulse to confide her own troubles to this man, who loved her, and would understand. Her lids dropped till the dark lashes lay on her flushed cheek; she clasped her hands nervously together. “He made love to me as long as I was in favour, but it was only pretence. He really cares for another girl, but he thought I should be a better bargain if I were Uncle Bernard’s heiress. He has taken no notice of me lately, but we found him out before that,—I and the other girl. She is good and charming, and in every way better than I am, and she had cared for him, too. I expect he will try to marry her now that I am in disgrace, but she will never accept him.”
“And you, Ruth? Has it gone very hardly with you, poor child?”
There was silence for several moments before Ruth lifted a thoughtful face.
“I—don’t—know!” she said slowly. “It was a shock to me at first, and I felt as if I could never believe in a man again, but since I came home I have hardly thought about him, and if I had cared as much as I imagined that would have been the worst trouble of all. I think it was just part of the experience. Can you understand? Summer-time, and the lovely country, and the holiday feeling, and nothing to do but laze about, and amuse ourselves together. It seemed—don’t laugh!—so natural to fall in love.”
Dr Maclure did not laugh, but a smile flashed over his face, full of immeasurable relief and pleasure.
“I do understand,” he said heartily. “You have had so few chances of enjoying yourself with young people of your own age. It was, as you say, quite natural, but I hope you will have no more to do with the fellow. He is a pretty contemptible specimen, by all accounts.”
“Oh no!” Ruth reared her little head with a haughty gesture. “I could forgive a great deal to a man who really loved me, but nothing to an adventurer who cares only for his own gains; I am sorry the dear old Court will fall into such hands, for he cannot make a good master, and, as far as we are concerned, it will cease to exist. That dream has come to an end, Dr Maclure!”
“Well, one must hope it will be replaced by something more lasting. Don’t trouble too much about Mr Connor’s difficulties. I feel quite convinced that some arrangement can be made to tide him over the present crisis. You may not live at the Court, but it is equally certain that you are not going to the workhouse.”