"What the child always does! She crept somehow into the poor thing's heart, and got hold of her. It is a way that Bee has, you know. She was the first to carry a grain of comfort. And for weeks afterwards, no matter how busy she might be, she went there day after day—even if it were only for ten minutes, and generally it was for at least an hour—till Patricia was ordered abroad in May. Patricia would only go on condition that Bee should be with her for the first month. I have no doubt that Bee's influence has made all the difference to her future."
"Just like dear Bee!" murmured Miss Wryatt. "And—what about Robert Royston?"
"Well, he went to Florence after Bee came away. Mrs. Framley says it was a curious sight to see him falling in love again with Patricia—this time with herself, not with her face. For my part, I believe he has never left off caring for her. They say that after her accident, he looked ghastly. Then he had a breakdown, and the Canada plan had to be put off. In June he was ordered abroad—and he went straight to Florence. If he were not going to Canada, I don't see why that might not come on again."
"Why should not Patricia go too?" Miss Wryatt asked tranquilly.
The expected guests began to arrive and no more could be said.
Bee had indeed devoted much of her time to Patricia, through the late winter and early spring; spending hours in the dim room; putting aside other claims and many pleasures, that she might carry comfort and cheer to the stricken girl, bracing her to endure her trouble with courage, and gently leading her up to higher views of life and its duties, to a truer conception of what is meant by happiness, than Patricia had ever known before. These efforts had been crowned by a month with her on the Continent, and later by constant correspondence, while Patricia remained abroad till after the end of July.
The Roystons were among the first to arrive; and Rob was there when Patricia came. She walked in quietly—not as of old with the air of one who expected everybody to be looking at her, but rather as if shunning observation.
And she was, as Mrs. Major had said, much changed in more ways than one. She was thinner than in past years; and the exquisite colouring had vanished. The scar was already less prominent, yet it could not be overlooked, neither could the contraction at one side of her mouth, which altered her much when she smiled. The eyes were still weak, but very gentle; and her hair had grown into short curls, clustering closely over her head. But there was gain as well as loss; for if the delicate beauty of form and tint had disappeared, a new loveliness had dawned in the calm peace of her expression, the soft light in her eyes, never seen there before. It was, as Miss Wryatt suggested, a touch of spirit-beauty.
Rob had noted it already, in its earlier dawning; and he welcomed now its fuller development with a throb of joy. Few minutes passed before he made his way to her side; and neither he nor she had much attention to spare for others that evening.
Magda looking eagerly for Ned Fairfax, found him soon at her side, where indeed her face beckoned him; and they had a short chat. Her consequent high spirits, somewhat later, were rather dashed, when she saw him deep in talk with Merryl, showing at least as much interest as when he had been with her. An independent observer would have said that he showed much more interest, but Magda was not an independent observer.