Chapter 26

As a result of this, her grace saw Mademoiselle Valle alone
a few mornings later and talked to her long and quietly. Their
comprehension of each other was complete. Before their interview
was at an end the Duchess' interest in the adventure she was about
to enter into had become profound.

"The sooner she is surrounded by a new atmosphere, the better,"
was one of the things the Frenchwoman had said. "The prospect of
an arrangement so perfect and so secure fills me with the profoundest
gratitude. It is absolutely necessary that I return to my parents
in Belgium. They are old and failing in health and need me greatly.
I have been sad and anxious for months because I felt that it
would be wickedness to desert this poor child. I have been torn
in two. Now I can be at peace--thank the good God."

"Bring her to me tomorrow if possible," the Duchess said when
they parted. "I foresee that I may have something to overcome in
the fact that I am Lord Coombe's old friend, but I hope to be able
to overcome it."

"She is a baby--she is of great beauty--she has a passionate little
soul of which she knows nothing." Mademoiselle Valle said it with
an anxious reflectiveness. "I have been afraid. If I were her
mother----" her eyes sought those of the older woman.

"But she has no mother," her grace answered. Her own eyes were
serious. She knew something of girls, of young things, of the rush
and tumult of young life in them and of the outlet it demanded. A
baby who was of great beauty and of a passionate soul was no trivial
undertaking for a rheumatic old duchess, but--"Bring her to me,"
she said.

So was Robin brought to the tall Early Victorian mansion in the
belatedly stately square. And the chief thought in her mind was
that though mere good manners demanded under the circumstances that
she should come to see the Dowager Duchess of Darte and be seen
by her, if she found that she was like Lord Coombe, she would not
be able to endure the prospect of a future spent in her service
howsoever desirable such service might outwardly appear. This
desirableness Mademoiselle Valle had made clear to her. She was
to be the companion of a personage of great and mature charm and
grace who desired not mere attendance, but something more, which
something included the warmth and fresh brightness of happy youth
and bloom. She would do for her employer the things a young
relative might do. She would have a suite of rooms of her own and
a freedom as to hours and actions which greater experience on her
part would have taught was not the customary portion meted out
to a paid companion. But she knew nothing of paid service and a