"I am glad, yes, I am really glad you are going with her—glad for her sake, you know."
"It pleases me to hear you say that. Come, dear, let us kneel down and say our prayers together, and ask God's blessing."
Accordingly, mother and daughter knelt side by side and poured out their hearts to God. The tears rose to Mavis' eyes, but she resolutely blinked them away and would not let them overflow, for she was most anxious not to distress her mother more than she could help.
Shortly after they had arisen from their knees, the breakfast-bell rang, and they went downstairs. Mavis perceived that every one was looking at her very sympathetically, and no remarks were made when her appetite failed her and she left her breakfast almost untasted on her plate.
As soon as the meal was over, Rose and Bob said good-bye to their aunt, and betook themselves to school. And not long afterwards, Mr. Grey strolled out into the yard to order the horse to be put in the gig to convoy his sister-in-law to Oxford.
It had been previously arranged that Mavis was to say good-bye to her mother at the Mill House. She would have liked to accompany her to the railway-station, but Mrs. Grey herself had negatived that idea.
We will not linger over the moments of farewell when the mother and daughter clung to each other in grief too deep for words. The last good-bye kisses were exchanged, and Mrs. Grey took her place in the gig by her brother-in-law's side, whilst Mavis, between her aunt and Jane, stood outside the wicket-gate, struggling to keep calm.
"Good-bye," Mrs. John said. "We shall hear from you before you sail."
"Good-bye, ma'am," said Jane. "God bless you!"
"Good-bye, mother, dear, dear mother!" cried Mavis, trying to smile.