"Yes, you have been very selfish; but you will be better now. If you only knew how I love you for telling me all this, Maud! I have still so many faults. Life is not easy. We must help each other; we must be real sisters, not half-hearted ones. And one thing more—we will not lose courage about our dear boy;" and then, after a few more words, and a tearful embrace from Maud, they separated.
If Averil's limbs ached and her head felt weary, there was thankfulness in her heart. At last the barrier was removed between her and Maud; the patient endurance of years was reaping its fruits of reward. Averil's generosity had already forgiven everything. Hers was the charity which "hopeth all things."
Maud was very quiet and subdued the next day. She looked ill, but nothing would induce her to spare herself.
"My mother likes to have me with her," she said, in answer to an affectionate remonstrance from Averil. "Why should Annette be troubled?" And Averil was obliged to let her have her way.
Frank kept his promise, and came early, but he could give little comfort. There was no news of Rodney, and Mr. Townley still lay in the same precarious state. He came again in the evening, and stayed to dinner. It seemed a relief to Averil to have him with them, and his cheery influence had a brightening effect on the dejected household.
Annette told him frankly that she was glad to see him, only she blushed a little at his evident delight in learning that fact. "Was I wrong to say that?" she thought; but she would not confess this doubt to Lottie.
"It is an ill wind that blows no one any good." Frank might have felt this, if he had been been in the mood for proverbs; but he was too full of sympathy for his friends, too anxious on Rodney's account, to consider any personal benefit. His father's touch of gout was certainly in his favor: still, he condoled with him dutifully on his return from Redfern House. He sent a line by a messenger the next morning to tell Averil that Mr. Townley was certainly better. "Doctor Robertson has hopes of him now," he wrote. "My father is still incapacitated for business, though he is in less pain, so I am up to my ears in work; but I will contrive to look in on you at dinner-time. I shall possibly spend the night in town, as I have an early appointment for to-morrow."
Averil carried these good tidings to Maud, who was obliged to own herself ill. She had been seized with faintness while dressing, and Lottie had summoned Averil in alarm. Averil took things into her own hands very quietly; she made Maud lie down again, and put her under Unwin's care. When Dr. Radnor came to see Mrs. Willmot she would just give him a hint to prescribe for Maud, too. Secret trouble and want of sleep were telling even on her fine constitution. She wanted care, rest, and, above all, freedom from anxiety. Averil did her best for her. She prevented Mrs. Willmot invading her daughter's room, by representing to her that Maud was trying to sleep. She and Annette mounted guard over the poor, distracted woman, who could not be induced to employ herself or to do anything but wander about aimlessly, bemoaning herself to every one who had time to listen to her.
Maud could at least be in the cool, shaded room that Unwin kept so quiet, and brood over her wretchedness in peace. Now and then Averil came to her side with a gentle word, or Lottie, in a subdued voice, asked how she felt. For the first time in her life, Maud felt it was a luxury to be ill. No one expected her to make efforts. When every one looked so grave and sad, there was no need for her to try and hide her misery.
When Frank came that night he was shocked at Averil's wan looks. The suspense of these three days was telling on her. She shook her head at his first kind speech.