"Indeed," softly said Fanny, "I am afraid so, Rachel. You have taken a
great deal of trouble, but Conrade declares he will never say a lesson
to you again, and I don't quite see how to make him after this."
"Oh, very well; then there's an end of it. I am sorry for you, Fanny."
And away walked Rachel, and as she went towards the gate two artificial
jets d'eau, making a considerable curve in the air, alighted, the one
just before her, the other, better aimed, in the back of her neck. She
had too much dignity to charge back upon the offenders, but she
went home full of the story of Fanny's lamentable weakness, and
prognostications of the misery she was entailing on herself. Her
mother and sister were both much concerned, and thought Fanny extremely
foolish; Mrs. Curtis consoling herself with the hope that the boys would
be cured and tamed at school, and begging that they might never be
let loose in the park again. Rachel could not dwell much longer on the
matter, for she had to ride to Upper Avon Park to hold council on the
books to be ordered for the book-club; for if she did got go herself,
whatever she wanted especially was always set aside as too something or
other for the rest of the subscribers.
Mrs. Curtis was tired, and stayed at home; and Grace spent the afternoon
in investigations about the harrying of the thrushes, but, alas! without
coming a bit nearer the truth. Nothing was seen or heard of Lady Temple
till, at half-past nine, one of the midges, or diminutive flies used at
Avonmonth, came to the door, and Fanny came into the drawing-room--wan,
tearful, agitated.
"Dear Rachel, I am so afraid I was hasty, I could not sleep without
coming to tell you how sorry I am."
"Then you are convinced? I knew you would be."
"Oh, yes, I have just been sitting by him after he was gone to bed. He
never goes to sleep till I have done that, and he always tells me if
anything is on his mind. I could not ask him again, it would have been
insulting him; but he went over it all of himself, and owned he ought
not to have put a finger on the edge of the nest, but he wanted so to
see what it was lined with; otherwise he never touched it. He says, poor
boy, that it was only your being a civilian that made you not able to
believe him, I am sure you must believe him now."
Mrs. Curtis began, in her gentle way, about the difficulty of believing
one's children in fault, but Lady Temple was entirely past accepting the
possibility of Conrade's being to blame in this particular instance. It
made her bristle up again, so that even Rachel saw the impossibility of
pressing it, and trusted to some signal confutation to cure her of her
infatuation. But she was as affectionate as ever, only wanting to be
forgiven for the morning's warmth, and to assure dear Aunt Curtis, dear
Grace, and dearest Rachel in particular, that there was no doing without
them, and it was the greatest blessing to be near them.