He sat for a minute in complete silence and close thought; then he rose.
"I should like to see Millie, if she is awake," he said, very quietly.
Bert looked at him piercingly. Had there been one shade of arrogance in his tone, or had he seemed to suggest that he doubted Bert's assent, there might have been open war. But he gave no handle; and the master of the house, after a very brief hesitation, rose and tapped at the parlour door.
Anna peeped out, and admitted them, with an anxious glance from one face to the other. Mayne walked in, and Bert followed him, with his bunch of flowers in his hand.
The waxen-white Millie lay with her flaxen hair loose upon the pillows. Her eyes were wide open, and flashed restlessly. Her whole mien otherwise was so still that one would have hardly thought her living. A look of expectancy kindled for a moment upon her face when she saw Mayne, but it soon died down.
He went over and sat down by her, with the naturalness of manner which frequent visits to sick-chambers give to the priest. Bert felt a pang of envy; he himself was so completely a fish out of water.
"I am grieved indeed to hear of the way you have been treated," said Mayne gently. "Poor girl! I wish you had gone away to Leitersdorp as I suggested."
"So do I," said Millie, under her breath.
"You thought yourself so secure," he went on regretfully, looking at her bandaged arm.
"Well, I'm paying for it," said the girl distinctly, "and got to go on doing that all the rest of my life, so I hear."