ne of the letters brought home to her, she fell to thinking
of the daffodils as though they were the unselfish nurses of the other
flowers, insomuch as they risked their frail lives in order to see if
the world were yet warm enough for the other blossoms now abed snugly
under the earth. The least important of the two letters was from Major
Perigal; it had been forwarded on from Melkbridge. In his cramped, odd
hand, he expressed further admiration for Mavis's conduct; he begged
her to let him know directly she returned to Melkbridge, so that he
might have the honour of calling on her again. The other letter was
from Windebank, in which he briefly asked Mavis if she would honour him
by becoming his wife. Mavis was much distressed. However brutally her
heart had been bruised by the events of the last few months, she
sometimes believed (this when the sun was shining) that some day it
would be possible for her to conjure up some semblance of affection for
Windebank, especially if she saw much of him. His mere presence
radiated an atmosphere of protection. It offered a welcome harbourage
after the many bufferings she had suffered upon storm-tossed seas. If
she could have gone to him as she had to Perigal, she would not have
hesitated a moment. Now, so far as she was concerned, there was all the
difference in the world. Although she knew that her soul was not
defiled by her experience with Perigal, she had dim perceptions of the
way in which men, particularly manly males, looked upon such
happenings. It was not in the nature of things, after all that had
occurred, for Windebank to want her in a way in which she would wish to
be desired by the man of her choice. Here was, apparently, no
overmastering passion, but pity excited by her misfortunes. Mavis had
got out of Mrs Trivett (who had long since left for Melkbridge) that it
was Windebank who had insisted on paying the expenses of her illness
and stay at Swanage, in spite of Major Perigal's and his son's desire
to meet all costs that had been incurred. Mavis also learned that
Windebank and Charles Perigal had had words on the subject--words which
had culminated in blows when Windebank had told Perigal in unmeasured
terms what he thought of his conduct to Mavis.

As Mavis recalled Windebank's generosity with regard to her illness, it
seemed to her that this proposal of marriage was all of a piece with
his other behaviour since her baby had died. Consideration for her, not
love,