Richard did not answer for a minute, his thoughts had suddenly taken a new turn.
'I never could tell how it was she read me so correctly,' he said at last; 'her telling my father, and not me, was so incomprehensible.'
'She did not dare to speak to you, and she was so unhappy; but, Richard, even Olive does not hold the clue to all this trouble.'
He started nervously, changed colour, and plucked the blades of grass restlessly. But in his present softened mood, Mildred knew he would not repulse her; trouble might be near at hand, but at least he would not refuse her sympathy any longer.
'Dear Cardie, your difficulty is a very real one, and only time and prayerful consideration can solve it; but beware how you let the wishes of your dead mother, dear and binding as they may be to you, prove a snare to your conscience. Richard, I knew her well enough to be sure that was the last thing she would desire.'
The blood rushed to Richard's face, eager words rose to his lips, but he restrained them; but the grateful gleam in his eyes spoke volumes.
'That is your real opinion, Aunt Milly.'
'Indeed it is. Unready hands, an unprepared heart, are not fit for the sanctuary. I may wish with you that difficulties had not arisen, that you could carry out your parents' dedication and wish; but vocation cannot be forced, neither must you fall into Olive's mistake of supposing self-sacrifice is the one thing needful. After all, our first duty is to be true to ourselves.'
'Aunt Milly, how wise you are!' he exclaimed in involuntary admiration. 'No one, not even my father, put it so clearly. You are right, I do not mean to sacrifice myself unless I can feel it my duty to do so. But it is a question I must settle with myself.'
'True, dear, only remember the brave old verse—