CHAPTER VII. THE RED ROSE. FTER the departure of Fraulein, the school settled down again into its usual routine, but Milly did not find it the same as at first. All the girls, except Bertie Moore, were cold to her, and she found their cold looks and unkind words very hard to bear. Sometimes she was sorely tempted to speak angrily in return, as she felt she did not deserve their treatment of her, but she remembered the crown of roses, and said to herself, 'If I don't try very hard, I shall not find the red rose, and then I sha'n't win my crown: I must try to be patient, as well as true.' So she would not make the angry answer which rose to her lips, and even tried not to think an unkind thought of those who behaved so badly to her. But she found it very hard. She had to watch herself so carefully, or an impatient word would slip out almost before she knew it, and sometimes she was quite disheartened, and thought she should never find the red rose. Bertie said to her one day,-'If I were you, Milly, I would have it out with Hetty Ravensworth; she is the one who leads on all the others to tease you, and I can't think why you put up with it.' 'Oh! I think it is better to wait patiently till she sees how wrong she is,' Milly replied. 'It takes two to make a quarrel, and I am determined I won't be one of them. It would only make me more unhappy to have a quarrel with anyone; I never did, and, if possible, I never will.' So she went on quietly with her work, trying hard to get on, and making good progress with all her studies, though she no longer carried so light a heart as she used to do, and so the work seemed harder. After some time Milly began to feel as if she could not do her lessons; she had often bad headaches, and her feet felt so heavy somehow, when she walked, she could hardly get up and down stairs. At first she thought it was only because she had been so worried lately, but soon she began to fear she must be going to be ill, and her fears were correct, for soon poor Milly was quite ill, and obliged to give up all her work and stay in bed. She had caught a fever which was then prevalent in the neighbourhood, and the doctor said she had been rendered susceptible to it by the worry and distress of mind she had of late been subject to. For a few days Milly hardly knew anything that was going on around her, but it proved to be only a mild attack of the fever, and she was soon in a fair way to recovery. It was then that she first began to feel her illness. She was very weak, and unable to amuse herself, and the days did seem so large in that large bare infirmary room. The silent form of the nursing sister gliding about spectre-like, the only living being she had to look at in her dreary solitude. How Milly thought of her dear, distant home, and pictured to herself her sunny little school-room, from which she could stroll through the window, on to the terrace, so gay with brilliant flowers. How she longed for the sight of her father and mother, and thirsted for the sound of the dearly loved voices of home. Then her weakness made her feel cross and irritable, and it seemed a sort of relief to her to speak in a snappish way to the sister who nursed her, but she remembered the red rose she was so anxious to find, and restrained the cross impatient words as often as she could. Of course Mr and Mrs Grey were sent to when Milly was taken ill, but it unfortunately happened that Mrs Grey also was ill at the same time; and though she begged her husband to leave her and go to Milly, he would not do so, while the accounts of his daughter represented her illness as not serious. But Milly knew her parents had been written to, and she could not help longing that her father at least might come and see her. Every morning she longed for the post to come, and every evening she fretted because she had had no tidings of his coming. It was so hard to be patient. Milly was not allowed to see Bertie or any of the other girls for fear of infection, and the days did seem so long. She often amused herself by thinking over all the wonders she had seen in Fairyland years ago; and when she thought of the beautiful crown, she found it easier to be patient and to wait. Milly had been in the infirmary about three weeks. She was fast getting better, but she had often bad, restless nights, which made her weak and ill in the mornings. It happened one night that she had been peculiarly uneasy and restless all the night, but as morning dawned she fell into a sound sleep, which lasted so long, that the sister who was nursing her began to be anxious, and was almost inclined to wake her; but seeing her sleeping so peacefully, she would not disturb her, and Milly slept on till after eleven o'clock. She woke with a sort of consciousness that something unusual was happening, and as she opened her eyes, she saw the sister go quietly out of the room. She soon returned, bringing Milly's breakfast, and in reply to her invariable question, 'Is there a letter for me?' she said, smiling. 'I have something better than a letter for you this morning, but you must not be too excited. You have been so good and patient through all your trouble. Now we shall see how wisely you can bear a joyful surprise.' Milly started up in bed, exclaiming,— Oh, do tell me what is it!' But the sister had not time to answer, for the door opened to admit Mr Gray, and Milly was soon clasped in her father's arms. After the first joyful greetings were over, he took a small box out of his pocket, and gave it to her, saying,'Your mother sent you this with her best love. I will leave you to look at it while I see Madame.' Milly opened the box, and there, covered carefully in cotton wool, she saw a lovely crimson rose. 'It can't be the red rose for my crown,' she said to herself, as she gazed admiringly at the velvet petals. 'It is your red rose,' said the fairy voice she had so often heard before; 'and well you have earned it, for you have learned to be patient as well as true.' And then she sung, in her sweet, tiny voice, these words, |