“Mavis,” he repeated, “come here and give me your hand. I can’t see you. Oh the pain, the pain!” Then Mavis came forward, and the others drew back in a group to the door.
“Try and find out what it is; surely it is not another naughty trick that he is playing,” said Miss Hortensia anxiously.
“No, no. I am sure it isn’t. Don’t be afraid, dear cousin,” said the little girl.
Chapter Twelve.
Opened Eyes.
“The world that only thy spirit knows
Is the fairest world of the three.”
Three Worlds.
“Mavis,” whispered Bertrand, when he was sure the others were out of earshot, “you can understand; they would think I was mad. Listen—stoop down—it is she. You know who I mean. She made me see her, and oh, the pain is too awful. It isn’t only in my eyes, it goes down into my heart somehow. What shall I do? Can’t you make her come to take it away? I’ve been crying and crying to her, but she won’t.”
“Perhaps it is that you must bear it,” said Mavis. “Think that way, and see if that makes it any better.” The boy gasped, but did not speak. After a moment or two he went on again.