The worst was said,—­and when it was once said, it was soon known.  Maryllia was not to die—­not yet.  Fate had willed it otherwise.  But she was to be a cripple for life.  That was her doom.  Never again would her little feet go tripping through the rose gardens and walks of her beloved home,—­never would her dainty form be borne, a weightless burden, by ‘Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt’ through the flowering woods of spring,—­from henceforth she would have to be carried by others up and down, to and fro, a maimed and helpless creature, with all the physical and healthful joys of living cut away from her at one cruel blow!  And yet—­it was very strange!—­she herself was not stricken with any particular horror or despair at her destiny.  When, after the doctor had left, Cicely came in, trembling and afraid,—­Maryllia smiled at her with quite a sweet placidity.

“I know all about myself now,”—­she said, quietly—­“I’m sorry in a way,—­because I shall be so useless.  But—­I have escaped Roxmouth for good this time!”

“Oh my darling!” wept Cicely—­“Oh my dear, beautiful Maryllia!  If it were only me instead of you!”

Maryllia drew the dark head down on the pillow beside her.

“Nonsense!  Why should it have been you!” she said, cheerfully—­“You will be a delight to the world with your voice, Cicely,—­whereas I am nothing, and never have been anything.  I shall not be missed—–­”

Her voice faltered a moment, as the thought of John Walden suddenly crossed her mind.  He would perhaps—­only perhaps—­miss her!  Anon, a braver and purely unselfish emotion moved her soul, and she began to be almost glad that she was, as she said to herself, ‘laid aside.’

“For now,”—­she mused—­“they can say nothing at all about him at my expense.  Even Roxmouth’s tongue must stop calumniating me,—­for though many people are very heartless, they do draw the line at slandering a crippled woman!  It’s all for the best,—­I’m sure it’s all for the best!”

And a serene contentment took possession of her,—­a marvellous peace that brought healing in its train, for with the earliest days of February, when the first snowdrops were beginning to make their white way through the dark earth, she was able to be moved from her bed, and carried down to the morning room, where, lying on her couch, near a sparkling fire, with a bunch of early flowering aconites opening their golden eyes in a vase beside her, she looked almost as if she were getting well enough soon to rise and walk again.  She was bright and calm, and quickly managed to impart her own brightness and calmness to others.  She summoned all the servants of the household to her in turn, and spoke to them so kindly, and thanked them so sweetly for the trouble and care they had taken and were taking on her behalf that they could scarcely hide their tears.  As for poor Mrs. Spruce, who had nervously hesitated to approach her for fear of breaking down in her presence, she no sooner made her appearance than Maryllia stretched out her arms like a child, with a smile on her face.