But Rachel spent one of the happiest evenings of her life with Uncle John and Christopher. She knew that Uncle John had had a short but terrible interview with her grandmother, that he had been charged with treachery and dishonour and every traitorous wickedness. A week ago, when he had told her this, he had been the picture of despair and shame. "I hadn't meant her to know. She wasn't to come into it at all. And then that she should meet him at Roddy's on that very afternoon.... There's nothing bad enough for me." But he had added with a strange note of defiance so unlike the old Uncle John: "I had felt it my duty, Rachel ... to speak to Francis. I had felt it the right thing to do. I had felt it very strongly." Then he had been overwhelmed, now he was once more at peace, and tranquil. "It's all right," he told Rachel. "I've been forgiven. I think she's forgiven all of us. "She wouldn't listen when I wanted to tell her how sorry I was. She seems now not to care." "She's never forgiven anyone anything before," said Rachel. "Hush, my dear, I don't think you ought to say that. We've never understood her, any of us. She's always been beyond us. You'll realize to-morrow, Rachel, how wonderful, how _wonderful_ she is!" But he was very happy. He had his old Rachel back, the old Rachel whom he had expected never to see again. She sat between him and Christopher, at dinner, no longer fierce and ironical, with sudden silences and swift angers, but affectionate, sympathetic, happy. "Mother will see you to-morrow," Adela told her. "She's glad that you've come. The morning's rather a bad time for her. Could you stay for the whole day?" "Of course," Rachel said. At the end of the evening she went up to Lizzie's room; when midnight rang from the tower they parted, but first, Rachel said: "Lizzie, I wonder whether you realize what you've been--to all of us--to me of course ... but to the others--to the whole family." "Oh! Nonsense!" "Roddy was speaking about it yesterday. He said that you were the most wonderful person in all the world for making all the difference without saying or doing anything--by just being there." "Oh, Roddy thinks everybody----" "But this is what I'm coming to. You can't yourself know how much difference you make to everyone. But there's just this.... Roddy feels and I feel that when--He--comes (of course it'll be a boy) we'd rather have you for his friend than anyone in the whole world. You will--you will be, won't you?" "My dear--I should _think_ so. I'll whack him and bath him and snub him and teach him his letters--anything you like." Then she added, rather gravely: "There's one thing, Rachel, I've wanted to say for some time. I want you to know definitely, that all wounds are closed now, everything's healed--about Mr. Breton, I mean. I was afraid that you might think I still cared.... That's all ended, closed up, that little episode.