Chapter 24 - Page 2

that Fraulein
Hirsch had been called back to Germany by family complications.
That august orders should recall Count Von Hillern, was easily
understood. Such magnificent persons never shone upon society for
any length of time.

That Feather had been making a country home visit when her daughter
had faced tragedy was considered by Lord Coombe as a fortunate
thing.

"We will not alarm Mrs. Gareth-Lawless by telling her what has
occurred," he said to Mademoiselle Valle. "What we most desire
is that no one shall suspect that the hideous thing took place. A
person who was forgetful or careless might, unintentionally, let
some word escape which--"

What he meant, and what Mademoiselle Valle knew he meant--also what
he knew she knew he meant--was that a woman, who was a heartless
fool, without sympathy or perception, would not have the delicacy
to feel that the girl must be shielded, and might actually see a
sort of ghastly joke in a story of Mademoiselle Valle's sacrosanct
charge simply walking out of her enshrining arms into such a "galere"
as the most rackety and adventurous of pupils could scarcely have
been led into. Such a point of view would have been quite possible
for Feather--even probable, in the slightly spiteful attitude of
her light mind.

"She was away from home. Only you and I and Dowie know," answered
Mademoiselle.

"Let us remain the only persons who know," said Coombe. "Robin
will say nothing."

They both knew that. She had been feverish and ill for several
days and Dowie had kept her in bed saying that she had caught cold.
Neither of the two women had felt it possible to talk to her. She
had lain staring with a deadly quiet fixedness straight before
her, saying next to nothing. Now and then she shuddered, and once
she broke into a mad, heart-broken fit of crying which she seemed
unable to control.

"Everything is changed," she said to Dowie and Mademoiselle who
sat on either side of her bed, sometimes pressing her head down
onto a kind shoulder, sometimes holding her hand and patting it.
"I shall be afraid of everybody forever. People who have sweet
faces and kind voices will make me shake all over. Oh! She seemed
so kind--so kind!"

It was Dowie whose warm shoulder her face hidden on this time,
and Dowie was choked with sobs she dared not let loose. She could
only squeeze hard and kiss the "silk curls all in a heap"--poor,
tumbled curls, no longer a child's!

"Aye, my lamb!" she managed to say. "Dowie's poor pet lamb!"

"It's the knowing that kind eyes--kind ones--!" she broke off,
panting. "It's the