But, nevertheless, her heart sank at the prospect before her; she would not see him perhaps for weeks, she would only see Mildred by snatches, she would be debarred from Dr. Heriot's society; it was a dreary thought for the affectionate girl, but her resolution did not falter, things would look brighter by the morning light as Mildred told her, and she fell asleep, planning occupation for her solitary days.
Dr. Heriot's watch had been a satisfactory one, and he was able to report favourably of the invalid. Roy still suffered greatly from the accelerated and oppressed breathing and distressing cough, but the restlessness and fever had abated, and towards morning he had enjoyed some refreshing sleep, and he was able to leave him more comfortably to Mildred and Richard.
He took Polly for a long walk after breakfast, which greatly brightened the girl's spirits, after which Richard and he had a long talk while pacing the lawn under the mulberry trees; both of them looked somewhat pale and excited when they came in, and Richard especially seemed deeply moved.
Polly moped somewhat after Dr. Heriot's departure, but Richard was very kind to her, and gave her all his leisure time; but he was obliged to return to Oxford before many days were over.
Polly had need of all her courage then, but she bore her solitude bravely, and resorted to many ingenious experiments to fill up the hours that hung so heavily on her hands. She wrote daily letters to Olive and Dr. Heriot, kept the studio in dainty order, gathered little inviting bouquets for the sickroom, and helped Mrs. Madison to concoct invalid messes.
By and by, as she grew more skilful, all Roy's food was dressed by her hands. Polly would arrange the tray with fastidious taste, and carry it up herself to the alcove in defiance of all Mildred's warnings.
'I will step so lightly that he cannot possibly recognise my footsteps, and I always wear velvet slippers now,' she said, pleadingly; and Mildred, not liking to damp the girl's innocent pleasure, withdrew the remonstrance in spite of her better judgment.
Dr. Heriot had strictly prohibited Polly's visits to the sickroom for the present, as he feared the consequences of any great excitement in Roy's weakened condition. Polly would stand listening to the low weak tones, speaking a word or two at intervals, and Mildred's cheerful voice answering him; now and then the terrible cough seemed to shatter him, and there would be long deathlike silences; when Polly could bear it no longer, she would put on her hat, coaxing Sue to follow her, and take long walks down the Finchley Road or over Hampstead Heath.
There was a little stile near The Hollies where she loved to linger; below her lay the fields and the long, dusty road; all manner of lights gleamed through the twilight, the dark lane lay behind her; passers-by marvelled at the girl standing there in her soft furs with the dog lying at her feet; the air was full of warm dampness, a misty moon hung over the leafless trees.
'I wonder what Heriot is doing,' she would say to herself; 'his letters are beautiful—just what I expected; they refresh me to read them; how can he care for mine in return, as he says he does! Roy liked them, but then——'