“And you really don’t care for him?”
“Not I, and I should be very sorry to think that he cared for me; but I am perfectly certain he does not. If I were a pot de confiture he might.”
“You relieve me immensely, my dear,” said Mrs. Monteagle, quite at rest now on the score of Pearl’s heart. “It would have been dreadful had you been in love with that young man.”
“It would indeed,” assented Pearl. “I had better be going now; I don’t like leaving mamma alone—without me, that is. Poor darling mamma, if I could take some of the worry off her! What are we to do? I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Keep a cheerful spirit and a brave heart; that is all you have to do for the present. I promise you things will come right in good time.”
Mr. Kingspring called very early, and was closeted a long time with Col. Redacre. Pearl met him in the hall as she was coming out of her father’s study, and whispered to him:
“Make papa write to Cousin Darrell.”
Mr. Kingspring nodded yes and went in.
It had got wind that the Redacres were ruined, and everybody was very sorry for them. It was all conjecture yet how the ruin came about. The general belief was that a banker with whom he had lodged his money had “gone smash.” Mr. Kingspring and M. de Kerbec were the only two who had known the truth from the first, and they were not communicative as to details; Mr. Kingspring from innate discretion, M. de Kerbec from friendly desire to shield Col. Redacre from the ridicule which awaited a man imbecile enough to fool away his money by signing a bill.