Mildred herself was experiencing that strong reaction which often follows great effort. Now that her ordeal was over, she felt how severe had been the strain of those weeks of unaccustomed hard work. She flagged visibly, and her pale cheeks and listless manner drew comment at home.
"No, I'm not ill really, Tantie," she replied to her aunt's enquiries. "It's only that I'm tired of everything just at present. I think I want a change."
And a change was coming to her--something so utterly unexpected and unthought-of that if anyone could have told her of it beforehand she would scarcely have believed it to be possible. It began with a letter--an innocent, inoffensive-looking letter. She had brought it herself to Dr. Graham, and had noticed the crest on the envelope, and then thought no more about it than she had done of the many others which were received daily at the house, and which did not concern her in the least. That her uncle and aunt seemed to have many earnest conversations together, which they broke off abruptly when she entered the room; that they were even more affectionate to her than usual, and looked at her sometimes with a kind of wistfulness in their eyes, did not strike her particularly at the time, though she remembered it well afterwards; and it was not until Mrs. Graham broached the subject one afternoon that she had any idea of the strange new plans which were being discussed for her future.
"There's something I wish to speak to you about, Mildred. It's a question your uncle and I have been weighing very anxiously. I believe we've looked at it from every side, and I trust and hope that we've come to a right decision. I have told you before that your mother's father, Sir John Lorraine, disowned her at her marriage. He never saw her again; and although we wrote to tell him of her death and of your birth, he took no notice, and made no enquiries about you afterwards. There was no mention of you in his will, all his property being left to his son Sir Darcy, who is the present owner of The Towers, as you know. Your uncle and I adopted you from the very first, and we have never had any communication with your mother's relations, who for nearly sixteen years have given no sign that they wished to remember you. You can imagine, then, our astonishment at receiving a letter from Sir Darcy Lorraine. It contained what seemed to us a very startling offer, which at first we thought it impossible to accept, until, after talking the matter over, we think it ought at least to be considered. But before you can understand me, I must read you the letter. It is dated from The Towers, Castleford, and addressed to your uncle: