Chapter 7 - Page 2

of
heavenly glowing, and her light movements were more like bird flight,
and her swiftness and sweet readiness to serve delighted and touched
people more, and they spoke oftener to and of her, and felt actually a
thought uplifted from the darkness because she was like pure light's
self.

Lord Coombe met her in the street one evening at twilight and he stopped
to speak to her.

"I have just come from Darte Norham," he said to her. "The Duchess
asked me to see you personally and make sure that you do not miss Dowie
too much--that you are not lonely."

"I am very busy and am very well taken care of," was her answer. "The
servants are very attentive and kind. I am not lonely at all, thank you.
The Duchess is very good to me."

Donal evidently knew nothing of her reasons for disliking Lord Coombe.
She could not have told him of them. He did not dislike his relative
himself and in fact rather liked him in spite of the frigidity he
sometimes felt. He, at any rate, admired his cold brilliance of mind.
Robin could not therefore let herself detest the man and regard him as
an enemy. But she did not like the still searching of the grey eyes
which rested on her so steadily.

"The Duchess wished me to make sure that you did not work too
enthusiastically. She desires you to take plenty of exercise and if you
are tired to go into the country for a day or two of fresh air and rest.
She recommends old Mrs. Bennett's cottage at Mersham Wood. The place is
quite rustic though it is near enough to London to be convenient. You
might come and go."

"She is too kind--too kind," said Robin. "Oh! _how_ kind to think of me
like that. I will write and thank her."

The sweet gratitude in her eyes and voice were touching. She could not
speak steadily.

"I may tell her then that you are well taken care of and that you are
happy," the grey eyes were a shade less cold but still searching and
steady. "You look--happy."

"I never was so happy before. Please--please tell her that when you
thank her for me," was Robin's quite yearning little appeal. She held
out her hand to him for the first time in her life. "Thank you, Lord
Coombe, for so kindly delivering her beautiful message."

His perfect manner did not record any recognition on his part of the
fact that she had done an unexpected thing. But as he went on his way he
was thinking of it.

"She is very happy for some reason," he thought. "Perhaps the rush and
excitement of her new work exalts her. She has the ecstasied air of a
lovely child on her birthday--with all her world filled with petting and