?" sobbed
Mrs Trivett.

Mavis's face hardened. She repressed an inclination to laugh. Then she
became immersed in a stupor of despair. She knew that it would have
done her a world of good if she had been able to shed tears; but the
founts of emotion were dry within her. She felt as if her heart had
withered. Then, it seemed as if the walls and ceiling of the room were
closing in upon her; she had difficulty in breathing; she believed that
if she did not get some air she would choke. She got up without saying
a word, opened the door, and went out. Trivett, at a sign from his
wife, rose and followed.

The night was warm and still. Mavis soon began to feel relief from the
stifling sensations which had threatened her. But this relief only
increased her pain, her sensibilities being now only the more capable
of suffering. As Mavis walked up the deserted Broughton Road, her eyes
sought the sky, which to-night was bountifully spread with stars. It
occurred to her how it was just another such a night when she had
walked home from Llansallas Bay; then, she had fearfully and, at the
same time, tenderly held her lover's hand. The recollection neither
increased nor diminished her pain; she thought of that night with such
a supreme detachment of self that it seemed as if her heart were
utterly dead. She turned by the dye factory and stood on the stone
bridge which here crosses the Avon. The blurred reflection of the stars
in the slowly moving water caused her eyes again to seek the skies.

Thought Mavis: "Beyond those myriad lights was heaven, where now was
her beloved little one. At least, he was happy and free from pain, so
what cause had she, who loved him, to grieve, when it was written that
some day they would be reunited for ever and ever?"

Mavis looked questioningly at the stars. It would have helped her much
if they had been able to betray the slightest consciousness of her
longings. But they made no sign; they twinkled with aloof indifference
to the grief that wrung her being. Distraught with agonised despair,
and shadowed by Trivett, she walked up the principal street of the
town, now bereft of any sign of life. Unwittingly, her steps strayed in
the direction of the river. She walked the road lying between the
churchyard and the cemetery, opened the wicket gate by the church
school, and struck across the well-remembered meadows. When she came to
the river, she stood awhile on the bank and watched the endless
processi