"Ah, there, I told you so! You'll soon find out where the ring is hidden," cried Mrs. Harbottle, with a ring of triumph in her tone. "I'll leave you now," she added, with returning smiles as she prepared to go. "I really cannot expose myself and my daughter to the sun. We've been delayed too long already over this wretched business." Bowing stiffly, she raised her white umbrella, and the mother and daughter hurried away across the brown turf towards the gap in the hedge. Hester felt rather nonplussed. Did Rosie not say she would confess after all? Had the child yielded to a sudden temptation and become a thief? Was that why poor old ayah had stood by with such an unutterably stricken look? "Come, Rosie, I want to talk to you in this very place where you used to repeat your hymn and hear nice stories," said Hester in a soothing voice. "Now tell me about all this!" The little girl, in spite of her aching fingers, seemed to have wonderfully recovered her equanimity since the departure of her accusers. "What are you going to confess to me, Rosie?" asked Hester gravely. "Surely you did not take the lady's ring?" "I done take ring? Oh, no, neva touchin' ring," cried the child, looking up with candid eyes. "But, Rosie, you said you were going to confess to me," faltered Hester. "Oh, yes, I 'fess Missus cause Missus believe me. I done 'fess, and I done 'fess butler, only he prick my hands werry sore. Ramaswamy neva believe one word." Hester was now entirely satisfied as to the child's innocence, and felt touched by the quick confidence with which she dried her tears and even smiled. She decided to call the ayah and relieve her poor heart by assuring her of the innocence of her granddaughter. She found her in the next room making everything, as was her wont, exquisitely tidy. She listened attentively to her mistress, but the strain did not leave her face. "Missus speakin' true," she said, nodding her head in acquiescence. "My little girl neva done touch the lady's jewel. I know that from first. But what that matter when English lady done say she did. How can pore native woman stand up against one white lady? 'Tis Rosie's bad fate, Missus. 'Tis the will of the gods--the gods make angry at my one pore chil'? What I do?" The ayah's face wore a bitter look, though she held her head high and went about her duties in silence. A spirit of dreariness took possession of Hester. All seemed dark and mysterious concerning the matter. Her heart ached for the old woman, though she felt unable to make any reply to her bitter words. But though she could not bind broken hearts, she could at least dress wounded fingers, she decided, and getting out lint and bandages she applied herself to that, and was rewarded by a patient smile from the little sufferer. CHAPTER VII.