"It must be as you wish, of course," said Mr Durrant, very coldly. "I will order a carriage, and see that an escort is provided to take you back to the Brown House. As to my disappointment, we won't speak of it: what must be, must be." He had held out his hand as he led her in the direction of the pond. Now, he let that same hand go. They walked together to the house. Robina went up to her room, Mr Durrant to his study. "I never was so puzzled in all my life," thought the good man. "Robina Starling, of all people!" Book 2--CHAPTER SIXTEEN. JANE CONFESSES. At eleven o'clock sharp, all the girls, with the exception of Robina, were assembled in Mr Durrant's study. He had asked them to meet him there, and they had come. Ralph was also present. The absence of Robina was noticed. The thought of Robina was in every heart, and the words: "Where is she? Can she really have gone away? Has she really told Mr Durrant?" were framing themselves on all lips. But the words were not uttered aloud, and the thoughts in the hearts were unspoken. Mr Durrant looked very pale and grave. Amongst the girls who had entered the room was Jane Bush. But there was something extraordinary about Jane which Harriet--could she have time to think of anything at such a crucial moment except herself--must have remarked. In the first place Jane, who was never noticed at all by the older girls of the third form, was now practically in Patience Chetwold's pocket. Frederica Chetwold was at her other side, and behind her were the three Amberleys. Jane's face was terribly disfigured by crying, and she looked altogether a most woe-begone little spectacle. Ralph was standing by his father's side. He wore that very pretty little brown velveteen suit which made him look something between the prettiest of all brownies and the most beautiful of all boys. His eager, loving eyes travelled from one face to another. They fixed themselves for a minute on Jane with that world of sorrow in them which such eyes as his will always show when their sympathy is fully roused. For Ralph belonged to those heroes who take the sorrows of the world on their shoulders, and live for others, not for themselves. But on this occasion, even little Ralph was absorbed with the thought of what was to happen in the future; and then, he was missing Robina: he was finding out at each moment that it was Robina he really loved. Was she not his dream mother? and was not a dream mother greater even than a school-mother? and had she not seemed like an angel to him when he lay in slumberland that morning, and when she had somehow or other kissed him, not only on his forehead, but on his heart of hearts. He fidgetted, therefore, and looked disconsolate. Mr Durrant, on the contrary, was pale and cold and determined.