Three days before it was arranged that Mavis should leave Southampton
with Harold, her resolution faltered. The prospect of leaving her home,
which she had grown to love, increased its attractions a thousand-fold.
The familiar objects about her, some of which she had purchased, had
enabled her to sustain her manifold griefs. Cattle in the stables (many
of which were her dear friends), with the passage of time had become
part and parcel of her lot. A maimed wild duck, which she had saved
from death, waited for her outside the front door, and followed her
with delighted quacks when she walked in the gardens. All of these
seemed to make their several appeals, as if beseeching her not to leave
them to the care of alien hands. Her dearly loved Jill she was taking
with her. Another deprivation that she would keenly feel would be the
music her soul loved. Whenever she was assailed by her remorseless
troubles in London, she would hasten, if it were possible, to either
the handiest and best orchestral concert, or a pianoforte recital where
Chopin was to be played. The loneliness, sorrowings, and longings of
which the master makers of music (and particularly the consumptive
Pole) were eloquent, found kinship with her own unquiet thoughts, and
companionship is a notorious assuager of griefs.

Physical, and particularly mental illness, was hateful to her. If the
truth be told, it was as much as she could do to overcome the
repugnance with which her husband's presence often inspired her,
despite the maternal instinct of which her love for Harold was, for the
most part, composed. In going with him abroad, she was, in truth,
atoning for any wrong she may have done him.

Two days later, Mavis occupied many hours in saying a last farewell to
her home. It was one of the October days which she loved, when
milk-white clouds sailed lazily across the hazy blue peculiar to the
robust ripe age of the year. This time of year appealed to Mavis,
because it seemed as if its mellow wisdom, born of experience,
corresponded to a like period in the life of her worldly knowledge. The
prize-bred Jersey cows grazed peacefully in the park grounds. Now and
again, she would encounter an assiduous bee, which was taking advantage
of the fineness of the day to pick up any odds and ends of honey which
had been overlooked by his less painstaking brethren. Mavis, with heavy
heart, visited stables, dairies, poultry-runs. These last were well at
the back of the