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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Your old schoolmistress!" remarked Miss Spraggs. "I didn't know she was alive," went on Mrs Devitt. "She writes from Brandenburg College, Aynhoe Road, West Kensington Park, London, asking me to do something for her." "Of course!" commented the agreeable rattle. "How did you know?" asked Mrs Devitt, looking up from the letter she was reading with the help of glasses.
After luncheon the womenfolk moved to the drawing room; when Victoria presently went to sit with her invalid brother, Mrs Devitt assumed a business-like manner as she requested Mavis to sit by her. The latter knew that her fate was about to be decided. They sat by the window where, but for the intervening foliage, Mavis would have been able to see her old home.
Mavis said good-bye to the others, including Victoria, who joined her for this purpose, from whom the girl learned that Harold was asleep. As Devitt conducted Mavis to the door, which the fat butler held open, she heard the snorting of a motor; the next minute, a superb car, driven by Lowther, pulled up before the front door. She got in beside Lowther, waved her hand to Devitt and was gone.
"It is: that you should take her part in the way you do, Montague," retorted his wife. "I'm sorry if you're upset," her husband replied. "But I knew Miss Keeves as a little girl, when she was always laughin' and happy. It's all very, very sad." Mrs Devitt moved to a window, where she stood staring out at the foliage which, just now, was looking self-conscious in its new finery.
Now I am punished, as the wicked always are, punished over and over again. Why did I do it? Why? Why?" Here a look of terror came into her eyes; these looked helplessly about the room, as if nothing could save her from the torment that pursued her. "He is ill; very ill. His doctor told me. How long do you think he will live?" "Pritchett?" asked Devitt. "Yes, when he came down to Swanage.
Memories of the long-drawn agony which had followed upon her boy's death crowded into her mind. Mavis hardened her heart. Upon a day on which the trees and hedges were again frocked in spring finery in honour of approaching summer, Mrs Devitt was sitting with her sister in the drawing-room of Melkbridge House.
The manager conducted Mavis to the board room, where she found Mr Devitt standing before the fire. Directly he saw her, he came forward with outstretched hand. "Good morning, Miss Keeves. Why " He paused, to look at her with some concern. "What's the matter?" she asked. "You're different. If I may say so, you look so much more grown up." "I've had rather a rough time since I last saw you."
She had fought and had been vanquished; there was nothing left for her to do but to write to Mrs Devitt and ask if the offer, that had been mentioned in her last letter to Miss Mee, still held good. During all these weeks of weary effort, Mavis had been largely kept up by the thought that she was a sparrow, who could not fall to the ground without the knowledge of the Most High.
"She promised to be an awfully pretty girl. Is she?" "I haven't seen her. But if she comes down you might care to call." "Thanks," replied Windebank. "When you see her, you might mention I asked after her." "I will." "Although I don't suppose she'll remember me after all these years." Devitt had left Windebank and gone about his business.
Mr Poulter, doubtless, thought that dear Mrs Harold Devitt, while she was about it, might just as well have gilded "Turpsichor's" head and face.
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