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The days that followed Mrs. Otway's journey to
London, the easy earning by good old Anna of a
florin for Alfred Head's brief sight of Jervis Blake's
letter, and the exchange of confidences between the
mother and daughter, were comparatively happy,
peaceful days at the Trellis House.
Her visit to 20, Arlington Street, had greatly
soothed and comforted Mrs. Otway. She felt sure
somehow that those kind, capable people, and especially
the unknown woman who had been so very good
and -- and so very understanding, would soon send her
the tidings for which she longed. For the first time,
too, since she had received Major Guthrie's letter
she forgot herself, and in a measure even the man she
loved, in thought for another. Rose's confession had
moved her greatly, stirred all that was maternal in her
heart. But she was far more surprised than she would
have cared to admit, for she had always thought that
Rose, if she married at all, would marry a man considerably
older than herself. With a smile and a sigh,
she told herself that the child must be in love with
love!
Jervis and the girl were both still so very young --
though Rose was in a sense much the older of the two,
or so the mother thought. She was secretly glad
that there could be no talk of marriage till the end of
the War. Even then they would probably have to
wait two or three years. True, General Blake was a
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