Mavis complied. She would have opened her heart to her aunt before, if she had ever had the least encouragement to make her her confidante. By-and-by, she became aware that there were tears in the sunken eyes which were watching the varying expressions of her countenance, and she ceased speaking abruptly.
"You must have been very lonely and sad, child," Mrs. John said. "I never realized you felt the parting from your mother so much. I wish I had known; but I thought—"
She paused, and did not explain what she had thought. She was beginning to understand that she had misjudged Mavis, and the knowledge that she had done so humiliated her, whilst she was conscious that she had allowed her jealous heart to prejudice her against the child. "I might have been kinder to you, my dear," she admitted, with a sigh.
"Oh, Aunt Lizzie, you have always been kind to me," Mavis said gratefully, unaware that Mrs. John's conscience was reminding her not so much of actions as of thoughts.
"I don't know what I have said to make you cry," she added, as a tear ran down her aunt's pale cheek. She wiped the tear away with her handkerchief as she spoke, and kissed the invalid. She had never felt greatly drawn towards her before, always having been a little in awe of her, but at that moment the barrier of misunderstanding which had stood between them was swept aside.
"I have not heard you singing lately," Mrs. John remarked, by-and-by. "Rose tells me you have been fearful of disturbing me. You need not be now, for I believe it will cheer me greatly to hear you singing again. Our song-bird has been silent long enough."
Mavis smiled, and kissed her once more, and shortly after that, the nurse, who had been absent, returned, and confidential conversation was at an end.
The young people had been back to school for several weeks before the mistress of the Mill House was about again, and it was some time before she was well enough to undertake her accustomed duties. But with the lengthening days, she gained strength more rapidly, and the doctor said she needed only the spring sunshine to make her well.
In the meanwhile, Mavis continued to receive cheering news from her mother, who wrote every mail. Miss Dawson was much better, and there was now every reason to hope that she would return to England completely restored to health. But when that would be, Mrs. Grey had not yet said, though in one letter she had remarked that perhaps it would be sooner than Mavis expected. The little girl's heart had thrilled with happiness when she had read that.
Almost the first news Mrs. John was told when she was about again after her illness, was that Richard Butt, who had taken a cottage in the village, had been allowed a few days' holiday, and the loan of a waggon, on which he had conveyed his household furniture and his wife and baby from Woodstock to their new home.