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She has few friends in London and certainly none who can put her up. I am desperate, and just wondering if you would let by-gones be by-gones, and receive her at Stoke Revel. She promised her mother she would do this and such a promise is sacred, don't you think? It's such an old story now, Cynthia's American marriage, and no fault of Robinette's, poor dear child.
I spoke to my aunt last night, and it's true that you have to leave this house; but now I've come to make arrangements with you about a new one." The old woman covered her face with her hands and gave a little cry that went straight to Robinette's heart. "Lor' now, Miss, 'ow am I ever to leave this place where I've been all these years? I thought yesterday as you said 'twas a mistake I'd made."
There was a look, Robinette caught it just for one moment, such as a proud angry child might have worn: sulky, hurt to the heart, but determined not to cry. Instantly a chord was struck in Robinette's soul. "She has suffered, anyway," she thought. "May I be forgiven for my harsh judgment!" With a shiver she drew her wrap about her shoulders, and Miss Meredith turned towards her.
Robinette's ardent spirit had felt sorrow, but it had never met rebuff nor known injustice, and the sudden stir of revolt at her heart was painful with an almost physical pain. After a long drawn hour of this social torture, Mrs. de Tracy rang, and a hard-featured elderly maid appeared. "Show Mrs. Loring to her room, Benson," said the mistress of the house, "and help her to unpack."
"There is going to be a shower," said Miss Meredith, "but I've nothing on to spoil," she added, glancing at Robinette's hat. Sitting there on the bench, hearing the spitting rain upon the water below them and watching the leaden mists that slowly gathered over the landscape, Robinette fell upon a moment of soul sickness very unusual to her.
"The only one of us with a boot on each foot, of course we appoint him by a unanimous vote," said Robinette. But the chief thing that Carnaby remembered, after all, of that evening's adventure, was Robinette's sudden impulsive kiss as she bade him good-night, Lavendar standing by.
Was I wrong?" Old bitternesses rose in Mrs. de Tracy's heart, the prejudices and the grudges of a lifetime. Everything connected with Robinette's mother had been wrong in her eyes, and now everything connected with Robinette was wrong too, and becoming more so with startling rapidity. "You had no right whatsoever to make any promises on my behalf," she now said harshly.
"Good-bye for the present, Mrs. de Tracy; I shall be back on Wednesday probably, if I can arrange it," he said. "Good-bye, Mrs. Loring," and here he altered the phrase to "Shall I come back on Wednesday?" for his hostess had left the open door. There was no hesitation, but all too little sentiment, about Robinette's reply.
Everything strong and firm about it, not shaking in the storms as this one does; nice bright windows to let in all the sunshine; so no more 'rheumatics' and no more tears of pain in your dear old eyes!" Robinette's voice failed suddenly, for it struck her all in a moment that her glowing description of the new home seemed to have in it something prophetic.
On the contrary the faces he could just distinguish in the uncertain light, were radiant, and Robinette's voice was as gay as ever he had heard it. He leaned upon his oars and looked at them with wonder. "Angel cousin!" cried Robinette. "Have you a little roast mutton about you somewhere, we are so hungry!" "You are a pretty pair!" he remarked. "What have you been and done?"
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