"And are you to do everything that Mr. Southwode wishes?"
Rotha said nothing, yet this time Mrs. Mowbray got an answer. There was a little unconscious flash of the girl's eye, as for half a second it looked up, which swift as it was, told the whole story. Mrs. Mowbray knew enough of human nature and of the human countenance, to read all she wanted to know in that look. All as far as Rotha was concerned, that is. And that was the principal thing; Mr. Southwode ought to know his own mind, and was at any rate at his own risk; and furthermore it was not Mrs. Mowbray's business to take care of him. And as regarded Rotha, she now saw, there was nothing to be done.
"Then I must lose you!" she said with a sigh and kissing Rotha again. "My dear, I want nothing but your happiness; but I believe I am a little jealous of Mr. Southwode, that he has got you so easily."
Easily! Well, Rotha could not explain that, nor discuss the whole matter at all with Mrs. Mowbray. She went up to her room, feeling glad this talk was over.
And then things fell immediately into school train. And of all in the house, there was no such diligent worker as Rotha during the months of that school term. She was not only diligent. Mrs. Mowbray greatly admired the quiet dignity and the delicate gravity of her manner. She was grave with a wonderful sweet gravity, compounded of a happy consciousness of what had been given her, and a very deep sense of what was demanded of her. Her happiness, or rather the cause of it, for those months remained secret. Nobody in the house, excepting Mrs. Mowbray, knew anything about it; and if anybody surmised, there was nothing in Rotha's quiet, reserved demeanour to embolden any one to put questions. All that Antoinette and Mrs. Busby knew was, that Mr. Southwode had found Rotha and brought her back. "Like his impudence!" Antoinette had said; but Mrs. Busby compressed her lips and said nothing. Both of them kept aloof.
Mr. Southwode himself was little seen by Rotha during those months. He came sometimes, as a guardian might; and there did arise in the house a subdued murmur of comment upon Rotha's very distinguished-looking visiter. Once or twice he took her out for a drive; however, he during that winter played the part of guardian, not of lover, before the eyes of the world; as he had said he would. When spring came, Mr. Digby went home, and was gone three months; not returning till just before the school term closed.
The story is really done; but just because one gets fond of people one has been living with so long, we may take another look or two at them.
School was over, and the girls were gone, and the teachers were scattered; the house seemed empty. Mrs. Mowbray found Rotha one day gathering her books together and trifles out of her desk. She stood and looked at her, lovingly and longingly.
"And now your school days are ended!" she said, with a mixed expression which spoke not only of regret but had a slight touch of reproach in it.
"O no indeed!" said Rotha. "Mr. Southwode used always to be teaching me something, and I suppose he always will."