e periods of the burial service: her heart was
with her boy. The present was as much as she could endure; she was
nerving herself for the time when she should leave the church. Till
now, she felt that her baby was part of this life and herself; then,
without further ado, he would be torn from her cognisance to be put out
of sight in the ground.

The inexorable minutes passed. Mavis stood before the open grave. Miss
Toombs, ashamed of her earlier timidity, stood beside her. Windebank,
erect and bare-headed, was a little behind. As the box containing her
baby disappeared, Mavis felt as if the life were being mercilessly
drawn from her. It was as if she stood there for untold ages. Then it
seemed as if her heart were torn out by the roots. Blinded with pain,
she found herself being led by Miss Toombs towards the carriage in
which she had been driven from Melkbridge. But Mavis would not get into
this. Followed by her friend, she struck into a by-path which led into
a lane. Here she walked dry-eyed, numbed with pain, in a world that was
hatefully strange. Then Miss Toombs made brave efforts to talk
commonplaces, while tears streamed from her eyes. The top of Mavis's
head seemed both hot and cold at the same time; she wondered if it
would burst. Then, with a sharp bark of delight, Jill sprang from the
hedge to jump delightedly about her mistress. Mavis knelt down and
pressed her lips to her faithful friend's nose. At the same moment, the
wind carried certain sounds to her ears from the direction of
Melkbridge. Mavis looked up. The expression of fear which Miss Toombs's
face wore confirmed her suspicions. Suddenly, Miss Toombs flung herself
upon Mavis, and clapped her hands against the suffering woman's ears.

"Don't listen! don't listen!" screamed Miss Toombs.

But Mavis thrust aside the other woman's arms, to hear the sound of
wedding bells, which were borne to her by the wind.

Mavis listened intently for some moments, the while Miss Toombs
fearfully watched her. Then, Mavis placed her hands to her head, and
laughed and laughed and laughed, till Miss Toombs thought that she was
never going to stop.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

A VISIT

Mavis's ride to Pennington was her last appearance out of doors for
many a long day. For weeks she lay at Mrs Trivett's on the borderland
of death. For nights on end, it was the merest chance whether or not
she would live to see another dawn; but, in the end, youth, aided by
skilful