rn in the direction from which it
came, to see Mrs Trivett, tearful, distraught, standing in the doorway.
Mavis's eyes expressed a fearful inquiry.

"Don't come back! don't come back," wailed the woman.

Thus, almost in the same breath, Mavis learned how she had lost both
lover and child.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

Mavis never left the still, white body of her little one. She was
convinced that they were all mistaken, and that he must soon awaken
from the sleep into which he had fallen. She watched, with
never-wearying eyes, for the first signs of consciousness, which she
firmly believed could not long be delayed. Now and again she would hold
its cold form for an hour at a stretch to her heart, in the hope that
the warmth of her breasts would be communicated to her child. Once,
during her long watch, she fancied that she saw his lips twitch. She
excitedly called to Mrs Trivett, to whom, when she came upstairs, she
told the glad news. To humour the bereaved mother, Mrs Trivett waited
for further signs of animation, the absence of which by no means
diminished Mavis's confidence in their ultimate appearance. Her faith
in her baby's returning vitality, that never waned, that nothing could
disturb, was so unwaveringly steadfast, that, at last, Mrs Trivett
feared to approach her. Letters arrived from Miss Toombs, Perigal,
Windebank, and Montague Devitt, Mavis did not open them; they
accumulated on the table on which lay her untasted food. The funeral
had been fixed for some days later (Mavis was indifferent as to who
gave the orders), but, owing to the hot weather, it was necessary that
this dread event should take place two days earlier than had originally
been arranged. The night came when Mavis was compelled to take a last
farewell of her loved one.

She looked at his still form with greedy, dry eyes, which never
flinched. By and by, Mrs Trivett gently touched her arm, at which Mavis
went downstairs without saying a word. The change from the room
upstairs to the homely little parlour had the effect of making her, in
some measure, realise her loss: she looked about her with wide, fearful
eyes.

"My head! my head!" she suddenly cried.

"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs Trivett.

"Hold it! Hold it, someone! It's going to burst."

Mrs Trivett held the girl's burning head firmly in her hands.

"Tighter! tighter!" cried Mavis.

"Oh, deary, deary! Why isn't your husband here to comfort you