‘Yes, dear, it is:  we will pay what is asked of us,’ Aminta said.  ’It will be heavy, if the school . . . and I love our boys.  I am fit to be the school-housekeeper; for nothing else.’

‘I will go to the boys’ parents.  At the worst, we can march into new territory.  Emile will stick to us.  Adolf, too.  The fresh flock will come.’

Aminta cried in the voice of tears:  ‘I love the old so!’

‘The likelihood is, we shall hear nothing further.’

‘You had to bear the shock, Matthew.’

‘Whatever I bore, and you saw, you shared.’

‘Yes,’ she said.

’Mais, n’oublions pas que c’est aujourd’hui jour francais; si, madame, vous avez assez d’appetit pour diner avec nous?

‘Je suis, comme toujours, aux ordres de Monsieur.’  She was among the bravest of women.  She had a full ounce of lead in her breast when she sat with the boys at their midday meal, showing them her familiar pleasant face.

Shortly after the hour of the evening meal, a messenger from Bern delivered a letter addressed to the Headmaster.  Weyburn and Aminta were strolling to the playground, thinking in common, as they usually did.  They read the letter together.  These were the lines: 

’Lord Ormont desires to repeat his sense of obligation to Mr. Matthew for the inspection of the school under his charge, and will be thankful to Mr. Calliani, if that gentleman will do him the favour to call at his hotel at Bern to-morrow, at as early an hour as is convenient to him, for the purpose of making arrangements, agreeable to the Head-master’s rules, for receiving his grandnephew Robert Benlew as a pupil at the school.’

The two raised eyes on one another, pained in their deep joy by the religion of the restraint upon their hearts, to keep down the passion to embrace.

‘I thank heaven we know him to be one of the true noble men,’ said Aminta, now breathing, and thanking Lord Ormont for the free breath she drew.

Weyburn spoke of an idea he had gathered from the earl’s manner.  But he had not imagined the proud lord’s great-heartedness would go so far as to trust him with the guardianship of the boy.  That moved, and that humbled him, though it was far from humiliating.

Six months later, the brief communication arrived from Lady Charlotte

’She is a widow.

’Unlikely you will hear from me again.  Death is always next door, you said once.  I look on the back of life.

’Tell Bobby, capital for him to write he has no longing for home holidays.  If any one can make a man of him, you will.  That I know.

‘CharlotteEglett.’

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