From Geraldine, Mildred had learned what Mr. Thornton said, and that he would probably wish to see her in the morning. This swept away the last lingering hope, and with a kind of nervous terror she awaited his visit, trembling when she heard him in the hall, and looking fearfully round for some means of escape.
“Here, Milly,” said the Judge, bustling up to her and forcing a levity he did not feel, “here’s your grandfather come to see you.”
“No, no, no,” sobbed Mildred, creeping closer to the Judge and hiding her white face in her hands.
“There, Bobum,” said the Judge, smoothing her disordered hair and dropping a tear upon it. “You see she don’t take kindly to her new grandad. Better give it up, for I tell you it’s a big lie.”
“Mildred,” said Mr. Thornton, seating himself upon the side of the bed, and taking one of the little feverish hands in his, “there can be no doubt that what we have heard is true, and if so, you are my child, and as such very dear to me. You are young yet, darling, and though your disappointment, as far as Lawrence is concerned, is terrible, you will overcome it in time. The knowing he is your uncle will help you so to do, and you will be happy with us yet. Don’t you think so, dear?”
“Bobum, you’ve made a splendid speech,” returned the Judge, when he had finished. “Couldn’t have done better myself, but it fell on stony ground, for look,” and lifting up the beautiful head, he showed him that Mildred had fainted.
“Poor girl, poor girl,” whispered Mr. Thornton; and the tears of both of those hard old men dropped on Mildred’s face, as they bent anxiously over her.
It was, indeed, a dreadful blow to Mildred, for turn which way she would, there shone no ray of hope. Even Oliver deserted her as far as comfort was concerned, for he had none to offer.
A day or so brought Lilian to Beechwood,—all love, all sweetness, all sympathy for Mildred, whom she cousined twenty times an hour, and who shrunk from her caresses just as she did from both Geraldine and Mr. Thornton.
“Oh, if I could go away from here for a time,” she thought, “I might get over it, perhaps; but it will kill me to see Lawrence when he comes. I can’t, I can’t; oh, isn’t there somewhere to go?”