Miss Katharine too was smiling and happy in these early spring days. She had never forgotten the face of the mother who had left her two children in her charge nearly six years ago. That young and agonized face had haunted her dreams; some words which those poor trembling lips had uttered had recurred to her over and over.
“It breaks my heart to part with the children,” the mother had said, “but if in no other way I can provide for their future, I sacrifice myself willingly. I am willing to obliterate myself for their sakes.”
Miss Katharine had felt, when these words were wrung from a brave and troubled heart, that pride was indeed demanding a cruel thing; but for Miss Griselda she would have said:
“Come here with your children. You are Valentine’s wife, and for his sake we will be good to you as well as them.”
Miss Katharine had longed to say these words, but fear of her elder sister had kept her silent, and ever since her heart had reproached her. Now she felt cheerful, for she knew that on Rachel’s birthday the mother of the children would return, and she knew also that when she came she would not go away again.
Rachel’s charming little face had lost a good deal of its watchful and unrestful expression during the last few weeks. She had seen Nancy White more than once, and Nancy had so strongly impressed on her the fact that on the 5th of May the lady of the forest would reveal herself, and all the mystery of her secret and her seclusion be explained, that the little girl grew hopeful and bright and fixed her longing eyes on that birthday which was to mean so much to so many. Kitty too looked forward to the 5th of May as to a delightful general holiday; in short, every one was excited about it, except the child to whom it meant the most of all. Little Phil alone was unconcerned about the great day—little Phil alone lived happily in the present, and, if anything, rather put the future out of sight. To him the thought of the inheritance which on that day was to be forced upon him was felt to be a heavy burden; but, then, those little shoulders were already over-weighted, and God knew and little Phil also knew that they could not bear any added burden.
Of late little Phil had been very glad to feel that God knew about his secrets and his cares, and in his own very simple, childish little way he used lately to ask him not to add to them; and now that he was sure God knew everything, he ceased to trouble his head very much about all that was to happen on Rachel’s birthday.
Thus every one at Avonsyde, with the exception of little Phil, was happy in the future, but he alone was perfectly happy in the present. His collection of all kinds of natural curiosities grew and multiplied, and he spent more and more time in the lovely forest. The delicious spring air did him good, and his mother once more hoped and almost believed that health and strength lay before him.
One day, quite toward the end of April, Kitty, his constant companion, had grown tired and refused to stay out any longer. The day was quite hot, and the little boy wandered on alone under the shade of the trees. As usual when quite by himself, he chose the least-frequented paths, and as usual the vague hope came over him that he might see the lovely green lady of the forest. No such exquisite vision was permitted to him, but instead he came suddenly upon Nancy White, who was walking in the forest and picking up small dry branches and sticks, which she placed in a large basket hung over her arm. When she saw Phil she started and almost dropped her basket.
“Well I never!” she exclaimed. “You has gone and given me a start, little master.”