She sat up and rubbed them. There was the strangest feeling in them—not pain now; indeed it was, though strange, a beautiful feeling. They felt drawn upwards, upwards to something or some one, and a new light and strength seemed to fill them, light and strength and colour such as Ruby had never before even imagined. And the some one—yes, it was the lovely gracious figure, with the exquisite never-, once seen, to-be-forgotten eyes, of Winfried’s princess. Ruby saw her at last!
A smile overspread the sweet face; the blue eyes shone with gladness.
“How often I have hoped for this,” she murmured. “No, Ruby, you will never know how often. Darling, shut your eyes, you must not strain them; shut your eyes and think of Mavis, and trust yourself to me.”
Ruby obeyed; she had not even looked round to see where she was; she only felt that she was lying on something soft and warm and dry; oh, how nice it was to feel dry again. For now the distant, long-ago sensation began to fade, and she remembered everything clearly as if it had happened, say, yesterday or the day before at farthest. The naughty mischief she and Bertrand had been planning, the strange little boat, the deserted cottage, the hurricane, and the misery about Mavis, the plunge in search of her into the sea, even to the loss of the forget-me-nots, which had been her only comfort, all came back; and with it a wonderful delightful feeling of hope and peace and trust, such as she had never known before. She gave herself up to the kind strong arms that clasped her round! “She will take me to Mavis,” she thought; “and oh, I will try never, never to be selfish and unkind and naughty again.”
Then, still wrapped in the soft warm mantle or rug she had felt herself lying upon, she was lifted upwards, upwards still, she knew not and cared not whither, for Ruby’s eyes were closed and she was fast asleep, and this time her sleep was dreamless.
“Ruby, my own little Ruby,” were the first words she heard. They awoke her as nothing else would have done.
“Mavis,” she whispered.
Yes, it was Mavis. She was leaning over the couch on which Ruby lay. Never had Ruby seen her so bright and sweet and happy-looking.
“Mavis,” Ruby repeated. “And you weren’t drowned, darling? At least;” and as she raised herself a little she looked round her doubtfully, “at least, not unless this is heaven? It looks like it—only,” with a deep sigh, “it can’t be, for if it were, I shouldn’t be in it.”
“No, darling, it isn’t heaven, but it’s a beautiful place, and I think it must be a little on the way there. It’s one of the homes of our princess; she won’t tell me the name, but I call it Forget-me-not Land. Isn’t that a good name? Look all about, Ruby.”