“I don’t think I can,” she said at last.
“But you must, sooner or later, and it may as well be sooner. I will tell you one thing—a secret, which perhaps will make it easier for you. I mean to make him love me before I have done with him, though he may begin by hating me.”
The little girl looked very grave.
“And Ruby?” she said. “I should care most for Ruby to love you.”
Strange to say, Forget-me-not’s eyes looked sadder than when she had been talking of Bertrand.
“It may be more difficult,” she murmured, so low that Mavis hardly caught the words.
“Oh no, dear princess,” she said eagerly, “Ruby isn’t anything like as naughty as Bertrand. You mustn’t fancy that. She’s just—just—she doesn’t think—”
“I know,” said Forget-me-not; but that was all, and her eyes still looked sad.
Then she glanced round. The old room seemed like a background to her lovely figure, it was like gazing at a picture in a dark setting.
“I must go,” she said, “and when I go you will be all in the dark. The clouds are so heavy and the day is getting on. Can you find your way all down the stair alone, Mavis? The others have not thought about leaving you up here alone.”