'I wonder if it could be George?' interrupted Dolly.
'Oh, no,' said Rhoda, quickly, 'because----' Then she stopped short.
'Because what, Rhoda?' said Lady Sarah, looking at her curiously. The girl blushed up, and seemed embarrassed, and began pulling the ribbon and the cross round her neck. It had come out again the last few days.
'Have you heard anything of George?' Lady Sarah went on.
'How should I?' said Rhoda, looking up; then she turned a little pale, then she blushed again. 'Dolly, look,' she said, 'who is it?'
It was Mr. Raban, the giver of the diamond cross, who came walking up along the side-path, following old Sam. There was a little scrunching of chair-legs to welcome him. John Morgan shook him by the hand. Lady Sarah looked pleased.
Raban looked shy. 'I am afraid you won't think so,' he said. 'I wanted a few minutes' conversation with you.'
Rhoda opened her wide brown eyes. Henley, who had said a stiff 'How-dy-do?' and wished to go on with the conversation, now addressed himself to Dolly.
'I always doubt the fact when people say that impulse is the voice of one's inner life. I consider that principle should be its real interpretation.'
Nobody exactly understood what he meant, nor did he himself, if the truth were to be told; but the sentence had occurred to him.
'An inner life,' said Dolly, presently, looking at the birds. 'I wonder what it means? I don't think I have got one.'
'No, Dolly,' said Lady Sarah, kindly, 'it is very often only another name for remorse. Not yet, my dear--that has not reached you yet.'
'An inner life,' repeated Rhoda, standing by. 'Doesn't it mean all those things you don't talk about--religion and principles?' she said, faltering a little, with a shy glance at Frank Raban. Henley had just finished his coffee, and heard her approvingly. He was going again to enforce the remark, when Dolly, as usual, interrupted him.
'But there is _nothing_ one doesn't talk about,' said the Dolly of those days, standing on the garden-step, with all her pretty loops of brown hair against the sun.
'I wish you would preach a sermon, Mr. Morgan, and tell people to take care of their outer lives,' said Lady Sarah, over her coffee-pot, 'and keep _them_ in order while they have them, and leave their souls to take care of themselves. We have all read of the figs and the thistles. Let us cultivate figs; that is the best thing we can do.'