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Updated: April 30, 2025
Phil burst into tears; Phil himself laid down his brush and changed color; Mollie silently clung to Tod as a refuge, and looked up with trembling lips. Mrs. Phil was the first to speak. "You may as well tell us the worst," she said; "but it is easy enough to guess what it is, without being told." "It is almost the very worst," answered Aimée. "Miss MacDowlas wants me to go to them at once.
But the effort seemed to tire her very much, and when all was done and her restless excitement had died out, she looked less like herself than ever. She could talk no more, and was so weak and prostrate that Aimée was alarmed into summoning Miss MacDowlas. But Miss MacDowlas could only shake her head. "We cannot do anything to rouse her," she said. "It is often so.
Perhaps she will not live to come home again." "You mean Dolly?" he said. "Yes," hysterically. "Miss MacDowlas says " But she could get no further. This was what Miss MacDowlas said: "I cannot think it would be right to hide from you that your sister is very ill, though she does not complain, and persists in treating her increasing weakness lightly.
"I saw you at the little church, though you did not see me, because, of course, we sit in the most disagreeable part, just where we can't see or be seen at all. And though I only saw you at a distance, and through your veil, and half behind a pillar, I knew you, and knew Miss MacDowlas. I think I knew Miss MacDowlas most because she wasn't behind the pillar.
"It would make me so much happier. You have been so kind to me, I am sure you will be kind to him, poor Grif, poor fellow!" Miss MacDowlas bent over her, touched to the heart. "My dear," she said, "he shall never want help again. He must have been worthy of so much love, or he would never have won it. I owe him some recompense, too.
Gradually, during the long weary weeks of her illness she had learned to place much confidence in Miss MacDowlas. Her affectionate nature had clung to her. In telling anecdotes of life in Vagabondia, she had talked of Grif, Vagabondia would not have been Vagabondia without Grif, and there was always a thrill of faithful love in her simplest mention of him.
Miss MacDowlas was in her own room writing to Aimée; so the place seemed very quiet, and it was its quietness, perhaps, which so stirred Phemie to sorrowful thoughts and fear. Upon her brightly flowered chintz cushions Dolly lay like the shadow of her former self.
If personal appearance was to be relied upon, Miss MacDowlas was not a promising subject for diplomatic beguiling. "We have no need to depend upon her," was Dolly's mental decision. "One glimpse of life in Vagabondia would end poor Griffith's chances with her. I wonder what she would think if she could see Tod in all his glory when 'Toinette and Phil are busy painting."
It is a very fortunate thing for us that we are of Vagabondian antecedents, Griffith, just see how we might trouble ourselves, and wear our patience out over Miss MacDowlas, if we troubled ourselves about anything. This being utterly free from the care of worldly possessions makes one touchingly disinterested. Since we have nothing to expect, we are perfectly willing to wait until we get it."
The cheerful tone gave way to a more dubious one; Dolly's whimsical messages were fewer and farther between, and sometimes Miss MacDowlas seemed to be on the verge of hinting that her condition was a weaker and more precarious one than even she herself had at first feared. Ralph Gowan, on making his friendly calls, and hearing this, was both anxious and puzzled.
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