A faint smile crossed Miss Merivale's pale face as she saw him. It was
what she had been hoping for.
She left the talk during tea-time to him and Rhoda, who had plenty to say
to each other. They were both enthusiasts about a garden, and found it
intensely interesting to compare notes. After tea, Tom was eager to show
Rhoda some white violets in the wood close by. He found she had never seen
any.
They went off together, and Miss Merivale could hear their eager, happy
voices as they searched about the wood looking for the violets, just like
two children. She leant back in her chair, closing her eyes. For the
moment the ache at her heart was stilled. She was hoping that all might
yet come right.
Rhoda went home that evening feeling like a different creature. Mrs.
M'Alister had a jealous pang or two as she listened to her account of the
happy time she had had.
"Don't you trust too much to her promises, child," she said anxiously.
"She's taken a sudden fancy to you, that's clear enough; but it mightn't
last. She might take a fancy to somebody else next week, and forget all
about you. I have heard of people like that."
"I don't think Miss Merivale is a bit like that," returned Rhoda stoutly.
"Hasn't she a sweet, kind face, Aunt Mary? I wish she didn't look so ill."
"Don't rest your hopes on her too much," repeated Mrs.
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