“The mischief was not my making,” cried Russell. “It’s not them that tells but them that goes wrong that are to blame. And the children--there’s the children to think of--who will take care of them like me? I’d die sooner than leave the children. They’re the same as my flesh and blood. They have been in my hands since ever they were born,” the woman cried with passion. “Oh, Mr. Trevanion, you that have always been known for a kind gentleman, let me stay with the children! Their mother, she can desert them, but I can’t; it will break my heart.” “You had better go,” said John Trevanion, with lowering brows. At this moment Reginald appeared on the scene from another direction, pulling on his jacket in great hurry and excitement. “What does it all mean?” the boy cried, full of agitation. “Oh, if it’s only Russell! They told me some story about-- Why are you bullying Russell, Uncle John?” “Oh, Mr. Reginald, you’ll speak for me. You are my own boy, and you are the real master. Don’t let them break my heart,” cried Russell, holding out her imploring hands. “Oh, if it’s only Russell,” the boy cried, relieved; “but they said--they told me--” Another door opened as he spoke, and Aunt Sophy, dishevelled, the gray locks falling about her shoulders, a dressing-gown huddled about her ample figure, appeared suddenly. “For God’s sake, speak low! What does it all mean? Don’t expose everything to the servants, whatever it is,” she cried. CHAPTER XXII. Presently they all assembled in the hall--a miserable party. The door of the breakfast-room stood open, but no one went near it. They stood in a knot, all huddled together, speaking almost in whispers. Considering that everybody in the house now knew that Madam had never been in bed at all, that she must have left Highcourt secretly in the middle of the night, no precaution could have been more foolish. But Mrs. Lennox had not realized this; and her anxiety to silence scandal was extreme. She stood quite close to her brother, questioning him. “But what do you mean? How could Reginald do it? What did he imagine? And, oh! couldn’t you put a stop to it, for the sake of the family, John?” Young Reginald stood on the other side, confused between anger and ignorance, incapacity to understand and a desire to blame some one. “What does she mean by it?” he said. “What did father mean by it? Was it just to make us all as wretched as possible--as if things weren’t bad enough before?” It was impossible to convey to either of them any real understanding of the case. “But how could he part the children from their mother?” said Aunt Sophy. “She is their mother, their mother; not their stepmother. You forget, John; she’s Rosalind’s stepmother. Rosalind might have been made my ward; that would have been natural; but the others are her own. How could he separate her from her own? She ought not to have left them! Oh, how could she leave them?” the bewildered woman cried.