"No! I was not aware that Honour knew of it."
"Neither am I aware that she does. I mentioned Honour, because I should suppose her to be more of a confidential servant to you than are the rest, and might acquaint you with what takes place here in your absence."
Mr. St. John brought his clear truthful eyes to bear steadfastly on those looking at him. He was open, honourable, unsuspicious as the day; but he could not help wondering whether the words concealed any double meaning.
"I have no confidential servant, Mrs. Darling. If I had, I should not allow him, or her, to repeat tales to me of the home of which my wife is mistress. When Honour speaks to me, it is of Benja; and all the world might hear, patience permitting, for I believe she takes him to be a cherub without wings. The one to tell me of it was Charlotte."
"Charlotte!"
The echo fell upon empty air. Mr. St. John had turned off in the direction of the children.
"Is it this that has been worrying you in London?" asked Mrs. Darling, following him.
"Worrying me in London? Nothing has been worrying me in London."
"Has it not? You were looking so ill when you got down here: thin, and worn, and changed. I said nothing, for fear of alarming Charlotte."
"I have not felt well for some little time. But it is really my health that is in fault, Mrs. Darling; not worry."