It came to a rougher place, to deeper, swifter rapids, in the ensuing spring.
Through all these months of separation she and Charlie had kept up a correspondence, though at somewhat irregular and infrequent intervals. A much longer time than usual had now passed, and yet her last letter to him remained unanswered. She was secretly very much disturbed in mind, sorely troubled lest some evil had befallen him, though not permitting herself to doubt for a moment that his love for her remained as strong and fervent as ever.
At last a letter came. Rupert brought it from the office at noon, and handed it to her with a meaning smile, a twinkle of fun in his eyes.
"Something to brighten this dull, rainy day for you, sis," he said gayly.
"Thank you," she returned, flushing rosy red, and her heart giving a joyous bound as she slipped the missive into her pocket.
"What! not going to read it after the long journey it has taken to reach you?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows in mock astonishment.
"Not now, it will keep; and I must get mother's toast and tea ready for her—there'll be barely time before father comes in to dinner."
"How is she?"
"Better, but not able to be up yet. These bad headaches always leave her weak, and I shall try to persuade her to lie still all the afternoon."
With the last word Mildred hurried away to the kitchen.