"I can't say I do, Rosie," said Tom, who considered in his heart of hearts that Rhoda's long-lashed, sparkling dark eyes were far more beautiful than the mild brown ones in the portrait. As he spoke he moved quickly towards his aunt. "Aunt Lucy, it is too cold for you here. Come in by the dining-room fire. Why, you are trembling with the cold. The evening is very chilly for April."

Pauline stood still for a moment gazing intently up at the picture, and then followed the others into the dining-room. Before Tom had spoken to his aunt she had seen how white and strange her face was--as white as if she was about to faint. And a sudden idea had flashed upon Pauline, making her heart beat fast.

That night, when Rhoda was brushing her hair, she heard a soft tap at the door. To her surprise, it was Pauline who entered.

"I have come to borrow some matches," she said. "I find my box is empty.

How pretty your room is! So is mine. It is a charming house altogether.

May I sit down and talk to you a little? I want you and Miss Merivale to spend a long day with us next week. Do you think you could persuade her to come?"

The change in Pauline's manner was so extraordinary that Rhoda found it difficult to speak. But Pauline did not appear to notice her constrained answer. She sat down in the low chair by the window and took up the photograph frame that stood there by Rhoda's little writing case and a saucer filled with white violets and moss.

"May I look at this? It is your aunt and cousins, isn't it? What a dear little fellow that is on your aunt's lap! Is that the little boy who was ill? You took him into the country, didn't you?"

An irrepressible glimmer of fun came into Rhoda's dark eyes. "Yes, into Ess.e.x," she said demurely.

"They have all gone into the country now, haven't they? How fortunate it was that Miss Merivale heard me mention you, Miss Sampson! She noticed the name at once. It is quite certain, isn't it, that you are related to her through her sister's marriage?"

"Miss Merivale insists on thinking so," said Rhoda quietly. "But I cannot be sure of it."

"Don't you remember your own people at all? I can feel for you, if that is so. My father and mother died while I was a baby. Can you remember your mother? I wish I could."

"No, I cannot remember her."

"And your father?"

"Just a little."

Rhoda's cold, brief replies checked Pauline. She did not find it so easy to pump Rhoda as she had expected. She put the photograph down, and got up with a yawn. "I am keeping you up," she said. "May I have the matches?

Thank you. Good-night." She gave Rhoda one of her most charming smiles as she spoke; but Rhoda's good-night was studiously cold. She had no desire to accept the olive branch Pauline was holding out to her.

CHAPTER X. A CONFESSION.

The more Pauline thought of it the more she felt convinced that she had solved the mystery of Miss Merivale's sudden interest in Rhoda. And she spent a long time in considering what was the best use she could make of her discovery.

Her first idea had been to disclose the truth to Rhoda herself, and thus establish a claim to her grat.i.tude. But something in Rhoda's manner the night before made her hesitate. And she felt half inclined to believe that her best plan would be to speak to Miss Merivale and a.s.sure her that she could be trusted to keep silent.

She was still undecided when she went into the garden next morning to help Rose pick the flowers for the table.

Rhoda was already in the garden. Old Jackson, the gardener, had come to the house to seek her directly after breakfast.

"Jackson expects Rhoda to spend half the day in his company," Miss Merivale said, with a laugh. "He won't sow a seed without asking her opinion first. My opinions he has always laughed to scorn."

"And mine too," said Rose, with a merry glance at Rhoda. "He has always been a regular despot about the garden. How have you managed to subdue him, Miss Sampson?"

"I expect he has found out that Miss Sampson knows more than he does,"

said Pauline smilingly. "I want you to teach me something about flowers while I am here, Miss Sampson. I have schemes for a flower-box outside our windows at the flat. Don't you think that would be a delightful plan, Rosie?"

Rhoda made some fitting response, but Pauline discerned the coldness in her voice. She said angrily to herself that Rhoda did not deserve to know what she could tell her. And ten minutes later she had fully made up her mind to speak to Miss Merivale. It was another discovery which had led her to a decision. She had wandered on before Rose towards the end of the garden, where an archway through a clipped yew hedge led to the stables and farm buildings. Her steps made no sound on the turf path, and she suddenly came in sight of Tom and Rhoda standing close to the archway.

Rhoda had her gardening gloves and ap.r.o.n on, and a trowel in her hand. She had just been sowing seeds in the bed that ran along the yew hedge. Tom had come through the archway to bid her good-bye before starting on his long ride.

"I wish I was going to Bingley woods with you," he said. "You will have a lovely day."

"Yes, it will be beautiful," Rhoda answered, finding it just as difficult as Tom did to speak these ordinary words in an ordinary tone. A blush came over her face, and she dropped her eyes. She could not meet his eager glance. For one moment Tom was silent--a moment that was eloquent to them both. Then, "Rhoda!" he said, almost below his breath.

It was at that moment Pauline turned the corner by the great lilac bushes and caught sight of them. Rhoda came towards her instantly, showing no sign of discomposure except a controlled quivering at the corners of her firm lips; but Pauline was not deceived by her calmness. Her only doubt was as to whether Tom shared Miss Merivale's knowledge as to Rhoda's parentage. And after a moment or two's consideration she decided that he did not. It was impossible to look at Tom and doubt his perfect honesty.

After a short talk, he went through the archway to start on his ride, and Pauline returned to Rose, leaving Rhoda to her gardening.

"Rose, why didn't you warn me?" she said in a tone of laughing reproach when she joined her. "I am afraid your brother will never forgive me. I have just interrupted a _tete-a-tete_."

"What do you mean, Pauline?" asked Rose, jarred through and through by her friend's tone.

"Is it possible you don't guess, you blind girl? But perhaps you would rather I did not speak of it? I thought I could say anything to you, Rosie."

"You spoke of Tom," Rose answered. "Of course I know what you mean, Pauline."

"Ah, you are jealous, Rosie."

Rose flashed a glance at her. "I am not jealous. I am not so horrid as that. But don't make a joke of it, Pauline, please don't."

Pauline burst into a loud laugh. "Oh, Rosie, what a solemn little face!

But, seriously, do you think the course of true love is likely to run smooth? Surely your aunt will object. We are not all so unworldly and sentimental as you."

"Aunt Lucy is glad, I am sure of it. And so am I," said Rose stoutly, "I am beginning to see what Rhoda is."

"You think Miss Merivale will be glad? Well, you are odd people. I shall begin to think Miss Sampson must have a fairy G.o.dmother. It's a new version of Cinderella, isn't it?"

This made Rose too angry to answer, and she walked away to the next flower-bed to put an end to the conversation. Pauline did not attempt to follow her. After standing in deep thought for a moment, she returned to the house.

Miss Merivale was sitting in the drawing-room busy with her embroidery.

She looked up with a smile as Pauline entered. "I was just wishing you or Rose would come in, Miss Smythe," she said. "I am not sure whether blue or green would be best for the centre of this flower."

Pauline gravely examined the embroidery, and gave her opinion. Then she took up the basket of silks. "May I sort these for you, Miss Merivale?"

"Oh, do, my dear. The kittens got hold of the basket just now and made sad work with it."

Pauline seated herself at a little distance and began quickly and skilfully to arrange the basket, glancing once or twice at her companion.

Miss Merivale looked very composed and cheerful. She was intent on her embroidery, and seemed in no hurry to talk.

It was Pauline who began the conversation.

"I have just been talking to Miss Sampson in the garden, Miss Merivale.

How very happy she seems here!"

"Yes, I think she is happy, my dear."