ars old! And perhaps, dear, just because we couldn't go out in the
sunshine to pick the dear flowers, because we had to stay indoors and be
quiet and patient, we learnt something, found out something, that helped
us along, and made us fitter for the haven. I'm very stupid--I can't
explain--"

"Dear Miggles, you are very wise! I am fortunate to have you. Be
patient with me, and love me a little bit in spite of my naughty words."

"A little bit! Indeed, my dear, I have grown to love you with all my
heart. After Jean, I really believe you are my dearest on earth."

After Jean! That stung. Jean had so much. She might surely have
spared the first place in one old woman's heart; and what a sweetness it
would have been to come first to just one person in the world! Vanna's
sense of justice pointed out that it was not reasonable to expect a few
months' devotion to eclipse the association of a lifetime; but though
reason may convince the brain, it leaves the heart untouched.

Jean had Robert; Miggles had a whole family of adopted children; Mrs
Rendall had her son; Piers had--a sharp stab of pain penetrated through
the dull misery of her mood, a stab which had pierced her at every
recollection of Jean's light words--"Always at the Van Dusens'--such a
pretty daughter--I believe he is in love."

Was it true? and if so, how did it affect herself? Vanna went out into
the garden and seated herself in her favourite seat, at the edge of the
cliff, whence the winding steps cut out in the face of the chalk
descended steeply to the shore. The tide was out, and a few village
children scrambled barefoot over the slippery boulders, searching for
treasures in the pools between; the sound of their happy voices floated
up to her ears.

What was it to her if Piers Rendall loved and wedded another woman? He
was her friend; during the last few months he had given a hundred signs
of his care for her, his anxiety to help and cheer her life. She in
return must be equally generous. She must rejoice over his happiness,
and pray for its coming. Why not? It was no loss to her. She herself
might never marry. Piers Rendall could be nothing to her. Vanna threw
back her head and burst into a peal of high, unnatural laughter. The
children playing on the rocks glanced up in amaze, and stood staring at
the strange spectacle of "The Cottage Lady" laughing all to herself, and
Vanna laughed on and on, with ever harder, higher notes. Piers