CHAPTER VI. PAULINE’S DIPLOMACY.
When Rhoda got home that morning, she found that Mrs. M’Alister had already begun to pack. Ned was to go to Plymouth almost at once, and Mr. Price was anxious that his sister and the younger boys should return with him on the following Saturday. Little Hugh was to stay at Leyton for the present; Rhoda was to bring him down when she came for her holiday in August.
Mrs. M’Alister did not guess how hard Rhoda found it to be cheerful as she helped with the packing. A great load was lifted off her heart by the ready way in which the girl had acquiesced in the new arrangements. Much as it grieved her to part with Rhoda, she could not help looking forward with delight to going back to the dear old farmhouse in which her childhood had been spent. And Rhoda understood exactly how she felt. There was no bitterness in her heart; but, brave and cheery as she was, she dreaded to think of the lonely days that lay before her.
She did not go down to Woodcote till Thursday afternoon. Miss Merivale had asked her to come early and spend the day, but she had written to explain how it was that she could not spare the time; her aunt wanted her help in packing.
The old house looked more beautiful and peaceful than ever, steeped in the golden afternoon sunlight. Rhoda thought with a thrill of wonder of Rose’s words about her home. How could she have spoken so!
Miss Merivale was in the library, with all the windows open to the garden. Rhoda was tremulously surprised at her greeting. She kissed her, and even when they sat down she did not leave her hand go, but held it tight, looking anxiously at her.
“I want you to tell me more about your aunt,” she said. “I did not quite understand your letter. You are not going to Devonshire?”
“Oh no; I am going on with my work here,” Rhoda said hastily. And after a pause she added, impelled by the yearning kindness in Miss Merivale’s eyes, “Mr. Price wishes me to stay here. It is not as if I was his own niece, you see. And I am nearly twenty; I am quite able to earn my own living.”
Miss Merivale dropped her hand suddenly, and rose and went to the window. The quiver in Rhoda’s voice was more than she could bear. She spoke without turning round. “I see they are carrying the tea into the garden. Let us go out. I thought it would be pleasanter to have it out of doors. And afterwards you shall tell me what you mean to do. I should like”—
But she checked herself. She wanted to say that she would like Rhoda to come to Woodcote; but she saw how strange such a wish would seem, both to Rhoda and to Tom and Rose. She must wait a little. She must content herself with helping her in other ways.