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The suspense filled her soul with a sickening dread. Work at Melkbridge now promised alluring possibilities, qualities that had never presented themselves to her mind in the days when she believed that a letter from her would secure from Mr Devitt what she desired.
But Mavis scarcely listened to the girl's questions; she was wondering why, first of all, Miss Toombs and then Windebank should be against her going to Melkbridge. Her renewed faith in Perigal prevented her from believing that any act of his was responsible for their anxiety in the matter.
Mr Devitt, being told of this decision, sent Jill up in charge of a maid, who asked that its collar and chain might be returned to Melkbridge House. Mavis took Jill in her arms, when it would seem by the dog's demonstrations of delight as if it had long been a stranger to affectionate regard. "Be you agoing to keep un?" asked the maid. "Why not?" "I shouldn't. Hev a good look at un."
During this time, Mavis had seen him once or twice, when he had paid hurried visits to Melkbridge, and had heard from him often. Although his letters made copious reference to the never-to-be-forgotten joys they had experienced at Polperro, she scanned them anxiously, and in vain, for any reference to his marrying her now, or later.
The only people Mavis was at all friendly with were Mr and Mrs Medlicott, whom she often visited on Sunday evenings, when they would all sing Moody and Sankey's hymns to the accompaniment of the cabinet piano. When she had been some months at Melkbridge, a new interest had come into her life.
Mavis set out for the Pennington end of Melkbridge, where, after some inquiry, she found that Mrs Farthing lived in an old-world cottage, which was situated next door to a farm. The girl's knock brought Mrs. Farthing, first to the window, then to the door, whereupon Mavis explained her errand, not forgetting to mention who had recommended her to come. "Please to come inside," said Mrs. Farthing.
She guessed that she was not being driven to Melkbridge; she wondered with an almost impersonal curiosity whither they were bound. She had been told, but she had not listened. She had reached such depths of suffering indeed, she had quite touched bottom that it now needed an event of considerable moment to make the least impression on her mutilated sensibilities.
Little by little, Harold recovered strength, till he was able to get about Melkbridge on a self-propelled tricycle; any day since the year of the accident his kindly, distinguished face might be seen in the streets of the town, or the lanes of the adjacent country, where he would pull up to chat with his many friends.
When she presently heard the postman's knock at the door, her heart beat painfully; she lay in an immense suspense, with her hands pressed against her throbbing head. To her unspeakable relief, it was in Perigal's handwriting, and bore the Melkbridge postmark. She tore it open, to read the following: "MY DEAREST GIRL, Why no letter? Are you well?
"What?" asked Mavis, seriously alarmed by the deadly earnestness of her friend's manner. "Miss Hunter!" "What of her?" "First tell me, where was it you went for your your honeymoon?" "Polperro. Why?" "That's one of the places she's been to." "And you think ?" "Her manner's so funny. And you wondered why I was so jolly keen on your not coming to Melkbridge!"
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