I had forgotten poor Judson, but I did not forget Rolf; I asked several times after him, but Gay had not seen him. Rolf was in disgrace, and a close prisoner to his room. He had had his dinner sent up to him; but Adelaide was lying down in her own room all the afternoon with a bad headache, and, as Rolf’s communicated with hers, no one could visit him unperceived. I wondered if Mrs. Markham’s eyes were at last opened to the danger of Rolf’s disobedience and her own faulty management. She was to blame as much as the child. She had given me her word to remain in the nursery, and no visitors should have tempted her from her post. It was no surprise to me to hear she was ill with worry; her conscience must have reproached her for her breach of trust. If Reggie had been killed, his death would have been owing to her carelessness. Later on in the evening, just as it was getting dusk, Gay came to me for a minute with a plate of fine fruit in her hand. They had tempted me all day long with delicacies, but I had felt too ill to eat. The fruit just suited me, for I was feverish with pain. “Adelaide has just come downstairs,” she said, with a droll little laugh. “Mr. Rossiter had heard of the accident, and had dropped in to inquire, so father kept him to dinner. When Adelaide heard that, she came down as soon as possible, and there she sits, looking like a ghost, until Mr. Rossiter takes his departure.” “And Rolf?” “Oh, I suppose Rolf is asleep,” she returned, carelessly; and as she was evidently in a hurry to return to the drawing-room, I would not keep her; but as soon as she had closed the door a sudden idea came into my head. I would go and see Rolf myself; I was not easy about him. I knew his mother could be too severe even with her idolised boy on occasions, but I never could bear a child to be long unhappy. I rose very quietly, so as not to disturb the children, and threw on my dressing-gown. I was rather afraid my white face and bandaged arms would frighten Rolf, until I remembered it was dusk, and he could not see me distinctly. Mrs. Markham’s suite of rooms lay in the west corridor. I knew no one would be about; poor Judson was in bed, so I reached Rolf’s room without interruption. I thought I heard him sobbing softly to himself as I opened the door. When I spoke to him, making my way through the summer twilight to his little bed, he started up and held out his arms. “Oh, Fenny, is that really you, dear Fenny? Do come close and let me feel you. I have been thinking of such horrid things.” I told him gently that I was in great pain, and that he must not touch me, but that I would sit down for a little while beside him and talk to him. “But I may hold your hand,” he pleaded. “Is your hand burnt too, Fenny, or don’t you like to touch me because I am such a wicked boy, as mother says, and very nearly killed poor little Reggie?” My heart melted at his pitiful tone, and I stooped over him and kissed his hot face.