"Oh! weren't you? I thought you were!"

They drove on for a little while in silence, and then Caroline bent forward.

"Oh, will you ask the man to stop, please? I must really have those berries."

Haverford got out with her.

"They are much too high for you to reach," was his observation.

"They are rather high," Caroline agreed, "but I am sure I can reach them if I give a jump."

He laughed.

"I can get them without a jump."

He mounted the rough ground and reached up to the bush that stood high above the hedge.

Caroline thanked him.

"Betty will be delighted," she said; "we have been looking everywhere for those red berries, and somehow we never thought of coming down this road."

When they were back in the cab and jolting on again Haverford said to her--

"Although you pretend that you did not expect me to write, I suppose you will be a little interested in hearing that I have some odds and ends of intelligence to give you about yourself. I should have written to you days ago," he went on quickly, "but my mother is rather a difficult person to handle, as you know, and it was only yesterday that I managed to corner her on this subject. She knew what was coming, and shirked me accordingly."

Caroline said nothing. She waited for him to continue. Nevertheless, her heart began to beat a little nervously.

"It is quite true," Haverford said after that little pause, "my mother is your guardian, or rather was, for in future I intend to relieve her of that office. You are her niece by marriage. Your mother was Gerald Baynhurst's only sister. From what I can gather, this sister must have been very dear to him. I am really as much a stranger to my mother's life as yourself, Miss Graniger. Beyond knowing that she married Mr.

Baynhurst after my father's death, I have never been informed, I may add that I have never cared to inform myself, about anything connected with this marriage. So I can only give you the bare outline of your story."

He paused again, and this time Caroline spoke, her voice sounding very low in her own ears.

"Of course, my mother and my father are dead?"

"Yes; your father died before your uncle," Haverford answered. "Your mother, apparently a very delicate woman, was left in the charge of her brother Gerald, and he was also appointed your guardian. When he died suddenly this charge pa.s.sed on to my mother."

He ceased speaking abruptly. It would have been difficult to have grasped from his tone whether he judged his mother harshly or not.

"I hope to get you more details," Mr. Haverford said when he spoke again. "As a matter of fact, I have brought down with me a quant.i.ty of old letters and other papers which I dare say will throw some light on your early history. You seem to have been quite a baby when your mother died, and you came to England when you were a little child between three and four."

"Then I must have gone immediately to Miss Beamish, my old schoolmistress," said Caroline.

"Yes; my mother tells me you were placed in a school. She explains this rather strange proceeding by telling me that Cuthbert was at that time such a delicate child that her whole thought and care had to be given to him, and she herself was in such a poor state of health that she was not in a condition to charge herself with too much responsibility."

Caroline laughed. It was not an unkind laugh.

"No, I am sure Mrs. Baynhurst never did care about responsibilities,"

she said.

She stooped forward to push some of the parcels more securely on the opposite seat, and the colour rushed to her face as she asked him another question.

"There is one thing I _should_ like to know," she said, "and that is if I have been kept by charity all this time. Did you find out anything about that?"

They were close to the gates of Yelverton now, and Rupert Haverford answered her hurriedly.

"You touch on a rather important phase of this matter, Miss Graniger,"

he said, "and I have more to communicate to you; but we cannot go into this properly now. As I shall be here for a day or so I hope you will afford me an opportunity for speaking quietly with you."

"Of course," said Caroline. Then she thanked him, and, indeed, she did feel grateful to him. It sent a warm sensation through her heart to realize that all this time, when she had imagined herself forgotten (when, indeed, it might have been excusable if he had put her out of his thoughts), he had been working on her behalf.

Just before they rolled up to the big door she turned to him.

"I want to ask you something. Please let me know that you are no longer vexed with me for having agreed to stay with Mrs. Lancing. I believe I am going to answer very well, and you can't think how glad I am to be with the children. I do see now," Caroline said quickly, "that I ought to have referred the matter to you, but the circ.u.mstances were against me. It seemed such a wonderful chance for me to find work in such a moment."

"Of course I am not angry," Haverford said.

He helped her to alight, and carried all her parcels into the house, and as Mrs. Brenton came forward to greet him, Caroline ran quickly upstairs to her own room.

She was conscious of a great desire to be alone for a few moments, for there was a pressure on her heart, and she hardly felt prepared to meet the children's searching eyes. Betty could ask the most pointed questions at times.

As she put down her packages in a heap on the table she found she had carried up with her a large brown glove. It was warm still with the imprint of the man's strong hand; he had drawn it off to pay the driver, and it must have fallen among her parcels.

Caroline picked it up and stood a little while holding it; she derived, quite unconsciously, a definite sense of pleasure from the touch of this glove; it recalled the owner so clearly.

"I am so glad he did not forget," she said to herself; "it is so nice to be remembered."

CHAPTER XI

Caroline did not go down to dinner that night. When bedtime came Baby was restless and seemed inclined to cough. Caroline was anxious.

Mrs. Brenton came upstairs, however, and rea.s.sured the girl. She administered homely remedies, and prophesied that all would be well in the morning.

Then she tried to persuade Miss Graniger to go down to dinner, but she failed.

"If you won't mind, I would so much rather stay here," the girl said; "Baby likes to hold my hand, dear little soul, and I should not be a bit happy if I went downstairs."

"Well, do as you like, my dear," Mrs. Brenton said; then she added, "I am so glad you had a lift home this afternoon. Now my party is all complete except for Camilla. I am very vexed with her."

Caroline looked at her quickly.

"Why?"

"Well, she ought to have come down this evening as she promised," Agnes Brenton answered impatiently, "she arranged to meet Rupert at a certain time, kept him waiting about for an hour and a half at the station, and then, when he supposed she had come on here by some mistake, he follows her only to find a telegram saying she has gone to Lea Abbey and will not be here till to-morrow in time for luncheon. I cannot think what has induced her to go to the Bardolphs," Mrs. Brenton added irritably.

"She says it is because Lady Pamela is ill, and sent for her; but to my certain knowledge Camilla and Pamela Bardolph have not been seeing one another for months past."