Sir Robert looked up then, and his eyes met hers. In his there was a look of grave, tender kindness of gentle reproach, which cut her to the heart. “I never thought, Caryl, that she could have left you,” he said in a low voice. And Rhoda, bending suddenly very low over the child, hid her face and whispered: “Caryl, you’re don’t know what you’re asking, dear, but--I’ll stay.” CHAPTER XIII. SIR ROBERT SEEKS ADVICE Sir Robert was watching the pair curiously: noting the feverish gladness with which the boy clung to Rhoda’s hand, and the tenderness with which she, in return, bent over him. It cost him a sharp pang to think that this was just the sort of way in which he should have liked his wife to bend over their invalid son. There was a motherly kindness in Rhoda’s every look and touch, as she smoothed the boy’s pillow or smiled at him, that realised completely Sir Robert’s ideal of what a mother ought to be to her child. Yet it was a stranger in blood who filled this office to the boy, and the visits of Caryl’s mother were hasty affairs, undertaken in the intervals of the serious business of life, motoring, tennis-playing, dancing, travelling. It was impossible that a bitter thought should not come into his mind at the sight. Caryl turned his head, with a smile, to his father. “I thought it would be all right, papa,” said he, “when you came.” Rhoda could scarcely suppress a sob. She knew something of what was passing in Sir Robert’s mind, for he had often uttered words expressive of his regret that Lady Sarah was not more domestic in her tastes. That that aspiration chiefly concerned the delicate boy it was not difficult to understand. But now that the matter was settled, that Rhoda had promised to remain at the Mill-house, there was another question to be answered. Why had she been so anxious to go away? What, too, did she mean by these words, uttered half-unconsciously, as it seemed, to the boy: “You don’t know what you’re asking!” Sir Robert had supposed, naturally enough, when Rhoda told him that afternoon that she wished to leave the house, that it was the unpleasant affair of the lost picture which had caused her so suddenly to make up her mind to leave a house where she had been subjected to such an alarming experience as that of the previous night. To a nervous woman, the night alarm, followed by a mysterious and not yet explained sequel, must have been quite sufficient to make her disinclined to stay in a house where such things had happened. Now, however, on overhearing these whispered words to Caryl, which implied that she had something still to fear, Sir Robert was moved to strong curiosity. He looked at her intently, and Rhoda blushed under his scrutiny. Meanwhile Caryl, delighted to have carried his point, was playing affectionately with her right hand, and pressing it against his cheek.