was, I thought — I supposed you might have some
interest — I thought you might like to know "
"Oh, if that is all," said Sir Ed^vard, "of course I
take a great interest — but I thought you meant
something of the same kind might be going on here.
You must never think of that. I would never forgive
myself if I were twice to be the occasion "
"I was thinking nothing about Captain Percival,"
said Aunt Agatha, with tears of vexation in her eyes;
"nor — nor anything else — 1 was talking for the sake
of conversation: I was thinking perhaps you might
like to hear "
Madonna Mnnj. I. *^
19-i MADONNA MARY.
"May I sliow you my boys, Sir Edward?" said
Mary, ringing tlie bell — "I should like you to see
them; and I am going to ask you, by-and-by, what I
must do with them. My brother-in-law is very much
a recluse — I should be glad to have the advice of
somebo
"Ah, yes, let us see the boys," said Sir p]dward.
''''All boys are they? — that's a pity. You shall have
the best advice 1 can give you , my dear Mary — and
if you are not satisfied with that, you shall have better
advice than mine; there is nothing so important as
education; come along, little ones. So these are all? —
three — I thought you had more than three. Ah, I
beg your pardon. How do you do, my little man? I
am your mamma's old friend — I knew her long before
you were born — come and tell me your name."
And while Sir Edward got at these particulars, and
took the baby on his knee, and made himself agreeable
to the two sturdy little heroes who stood by, and stared
at him, Aunt Agatha came round behind backs, and
gave Mary a quiet kiss — half by way of consolation,
half by way of thanks — for, but for that happy in-
spu'ation of sending for the children, there was no tell-
ing what bog of unfortunate talk Miss Seton might
not have tumbled into. Sir Edward was one of those
men who know much, too much, about everybody —
everything, he himself thought. He could detect al-
lusions in the most careless conversation, and never
forgot anything even when it was expedient and better
that it should be forgotten. He was a man who had
been unlucky in his youth, and who now, in his old
age, though he was as well off as a man living all
alone, in forlorn celibacy, could be, was always called
MADONNA MARV. 195
poor Sir Edward. Tlic very cottagers called him so,
â– who might well have looked upon his life as a kind
of paradise; and being- thus recognised as an object of
pity, Sir Edward had on the whole a very pleasant
life. lie knew all about everybody, and was apt at
times to confuse his neighbours sadly, as he had just
done Aunt Agatha, by a reference to the most private
hits of their individual history; but it was never done
with ill-nature — and after all the^'e is a charm about
a person who knows everything about everybody.
He was a man Avho could have told you all about the
Gretna Green marriage, which had cost poor Major
Ochterlony so much trouble, as well, or perhaps even
better, than if he had been present at it; and he was
favourable to marriages in general, though he had
never himself made the experience, and rather liked to
))reside over a budding- inclination like that between
Winifred Seton and yoinig Percival. He took little
Wilfrid on his knee when the children were thus
brought upon the scene, in a fatherly, almost grand-
fatherly Avay, and was quite ready to go into Mary's
])lans about them. lie thought it was quite right, and
the most suitable thing she could do, to settle some-
where whore there was a good grammar-school; and he
had ah-eady begun to calculate where the best gram-
mar-schools were situated, and which would be the best
plan for Mrs. Ochterlony, when the voices in the gar-
den were heard approaching. Aunt Agatha had escaped
from her embarrassment by going out to the young-
people, and was now bringing them in to present the
young man for 3Iary's apjtroval and criticism. j\Iis
Seton came first, and there was anxiety in her faces
and after her Winnie stepped in at the window, with;
1 '•> Â¥â–
196 MADONNA MARY.
a little flusli upon lier pretty clieok, and an unusual
llglit in her eye; and after lier — but at that moment
the whole party were startled by a sudden sound of
surprise, the momentary falling back of the stranger's
foot from the step, and a surprised, half-suppressed ex-
clamation. "Oh! — Mrs. Ochterlony!" exclaimed Sir
Edward's young friend. As it happened all the rest
were silent at that moment, and his voice was distinctly
audible, though pea-haps he had not meant it to be so.
He himself was half hidden by the roses which
clambered all over the cottage, but Mary naturally
turned round, and turned her face to the window,
when she heard her own name — as indeed they all did
— surprised at the exclamation, and still more at the
tone. And it was thus under the steady gaze of four
pairs of eyes that Captain Percival came into the
room. Perhaps but for that exclamation Mary might
not have recognised him; but her ear had been trained
to quick understanding of that inflection, half of amuse-
ment, half of contempt, which she had not heard for
so long. To her ears it meant, "Oh, Mrs. Ochterlony!
— she who was married over again, as people pre-
tended — she who took in the Kirkmans, and all the
people at the station." Captain Percival came in, and
he felt his blood run cold as he met all those astonished
eyes, and found Mary looking so intently at him.
What had he done that they should all stare at him
like that? for he was not so well aware of what he
had given utterance to, nor of his tone in giving ut-
terance to it, as they were. "Good heavens, what is
the matter?" he said; "you all look at me as if I
were a monster. Miss Seton, may I ask you to in-
troduce me "
MADONNA MARY. 197
"We liave met before, I tliink," Mary said, quietly.
"When I heard of Captain Percival I did not know it
was the same T used to hear so much about in India.
I tliiuk, when I saw you last, it was at "
She wanted by sudden instinct to say it out and
set herself right for ever and ever, here where every-
thing about her was known; but the words seemed to
choke her. In spite of herself she stopped short; how
could she refer to that, the only great grievance in her
life, her husband's one great wrong against her, now
that he was in his grave, and she left in the world the
defender and champion of all his acts and ways? She
could not do it — she was obliged to stop short in the
middle, and swallow the sob that would have choked
her with the next word. And they stood all gazing at
her, wondering what it was.
"Yes," said the young man, with a confidential air
— "I remember it very well indeed — - I heard all
about it from Askell, you know; — but I never
imagined, when I heard you talking of your sister,
that it was the same IVfrs. Ochterlony," he added, turn-
ing to Winnie, who was looking on with great and
sudden interest. And then there was a pause — such
a pause as occurs sometimes when there is an evident
want of explanation somewhere, and all present feel
that they are on the borders of a mystery. Somehow
it changed the character of the assembled company.
A few minutes before it had been the sad stranger, in
her widow's ca]), who was the centre of all, whom all
present paid, willingly or not, a certain homage to, and
to Avhom the visitors had to be presented in a half
apologetic way, as if to a queen. Aunt Agatha, in-
deed, had been quite anxious on the subject, pondering
198 MADONNA MARY.
how slie could best bring Sir Edward's young friend,
Winnie's admirer, under Mrs. Ocliterlony's observation,
and liave her opinion of him; and now in an instant
the situation was reversed, and it was Mary and Cap-
tain Percival alone who seem to know each other, and
to have recollections in common! Mary felt her cheeks
flush in spite of herself, and Winnie grew pale with
incipient jealousy and dismay, and Aunt Agatha fliit-
tered about in a state of the wildest anxiety. At last
both she and Sir Edward burst out talking at the same
moment, with the same visible impulse. And they
brought the children into the foreground, and lured
them into the utterance of mvich baby nonsense, and
even went so far as to foster a rising quarrel between
Hugh and Islay, all to cover up from each other's eyes
and smother in the bud this mystery, if it was a
mystery. It was a singular disturbance to bring into
such a quiet house; for how could the people who
dwelt at home tell what those two strangers might have
known about each other in India, how they might have
been connected, or what secret might lie between them?
— no more than people could tell in a cosy sheltered
curtained room what might be going on at sea, or even
on the dark road outside. And here there was the
same sense of insecurity — the same distrust and fear.
Winnie stood a little apart, pale, and with her delicate
curved nostril a little dilated. Captain Percival was
younger than Mary, and Mary up to this moment had
been hedged round with a certain sanctity, even in the
eyes of her discontented young sister. But there was
some intelligence between them, something known to
those two which was known to no one else in the
party. This was enough to set off the thoughts of a
MADONNA MAKY. 199
self-willed girl, upon whose patli Mary liad thrown tlie
first shadow, wildly into all kinds of suspicions. And
to tell the truth, the elder people, who should have
knoAvn better, were not much wiser than Winnie,
'i'hus, while Iluji'h and Islay had a momentary strugj^-le
in the foreground, which called for tlieir mother's active
interference, the one ominous cloud of her existence
once more floated up upon the dim firmament over
Clary's head; though if she had hut finished her sen-
fence it would have been no cloud at all, and might
never have come to anything there or thereafter. But
this did not occur to Mrs. Ochterlony. What did oc-
cur to her in her vexation and pain was that her dead
Hugh would be hardly dealt Avith among her kindred,
if the stranger should tell her story. And she was
glad, heartily glad, that there was little conversation
afterwards, and that very soon the two visitors Avent
aAvay. But it was she who was the last to be aware
that a certain doiibt, a new and painful element of un-
certainty stayed behind them in Aunt Agatha's pretty
cottage after tlicy were gone.
CHAPTER XVr.
Tii.vr night was a painful night for Winnie. The
girl was self-willed and self-loving, as has been said.
But she was not incapable of the more generous emo-
tions, and when she looked at her sister she could no
more suspect her of any wrong or treachery than she
could suspect the sun sliining OA'er their heads. And
her interest in the young soldier had gone a great
length. She thought he loved her, and it Avas very
200 MADONNA MARY.
hard to tliiuk that lie was kept apart from her by a
reason which was no reason at all. She roved about
the garden all the evening in an unsettled way, think-
ing he would come again — thinking he could
not stay away — explaining to herself that he
must come to explain. And when she glanced in-
doors at the lamp which was lighted so much earlier
than it needed to be, for the sake of Mary's sewing,
and saw Mary seated beside it, in what looked like
perfect composure and quietness, Winnie's impatience
got the better of her. lie was to be banished, or con-
fined to a formal morning call, for Mary's sake, who
sat there so calm, a woman for whom the fret and
cares of life were over, while for Winnie life was only
beginning, and her heart going out eagerly to welcome
and lay claim to its troubles. And then the thought
that it was the same Mrs. Ochterlony came sharp as a
sting to Wliuiie's heart. AVhat could he have had to
do with Mrs. Ochterlony V what did she mean coming
home in the character of a sorroAvfal widow, and
shvitting out their visitors, and yet awakening some-
thing like agitation and unquestionable recognition in
the first stranger she saw? Winnie wandered through
the garden, asking herself those questions, while the
sweet twilight darkened, and the magical hour passed
by, Avhich had of late associated itself with so many
dreams. And again he did not come. It was impos-
sible to her, when she looked at Mary, to believe that
there could be anything inexplainable in the link
which connected her lover with her sister — but still
he ought to have come to explain. And when Sir Ed-
ward's windows were lighted once more, and the
certainty that he was not coming penetrated her mind,
MADONNA MARV. 201
Winnie clenched her pretty hands, and went crazy
for the moment with despite and vexation. Anotlier
long dull weary evening, with all the expectation and
hope quenched out of it; another lingering night;
another day in Avhich there was as much doubt as hope.
And next week he was going away! And it Avas all
Mary's fault, however you took it — - whether she had
known more of him than she would allow in India, or
whether it was simply the fault of that widow's cap
whicli scared people away? This was what was going
on in Winnie's agitated mind while the evening dews
fell upon the banks of Kirtell, and the soft stars came
out, and the young moon rose, and everything glistened
and shone with the sweetness of a summer night. This
fair young creature, who was in herself the most
beautiful climax of all the beauty around her, wandered
among her flowers with her small hands clenched, and
the s])irit of a little fury in her heart. She had nothing
in the world to trouble her, and yet she was very un-
liappy, and it was all Mary's foult. Probably if Mary
could but have seen into Winnie's heart she would
have tliought it preferable to stay at Eurlston, where
the Psyche and the Venus were highly indifferent, and
had no hearts, but only arms and noses that could be
broken. Winnie was more fragile than the Etruscan
vases or tlie Henri 11. porcelain. They had escaped
fracture, but she had not; but fortunately this thought
did not occur to IMrs. Ocliterlony as she sat by the
lamp working at Hugh's little blouses in Aunt Agatha's
chair.
And Aunt Agatha, more actively jealous than Win-
nie herself, sat by knitting little socks — an occupa-
tion which she had devoted herself to, heart and soul,
202 MADONNA MARY.
from tlie moment wlien slie first knew the little Ochter-
lonys were coming home. She was knitting with the
prettiest yarn and the finest needles, and had a model
before her of proportions so shapely as to have filled
any woman's soul with delight; hut all that was eclipsed
for the time by the doubt which hung over Mary, and
the evident unhappiness of her favourite. Aunt Agatha
was less wise than Winnie, and had not eyes to per-
ceive that people were characteristic even in their
wrong-doing, and that Captain Percival of himself
coxild have nothing to do with tlie shock which Mary
had evidently felt at the sight of him. Probably Miss
Seton had not been above a little flirtation in her own
day, and she did not see how that would come unna-
tural to a woman of her own flesh and blood. And she
sat accordingly on tlie other side of the lamp and
knitted, with a pucker of anxiety uj)on her fair old
brow, casting wistful glances now and then into the
garden where Winnie Avas.
"And I suppose, my dear, you know Captain Per-
cival very Avell?" said Aunt Agatha, with that anxious
look on her face.
"I don't think I ever saw him but once," said
Mary, who was a little impatient of the question.
"But once, my dear love! and yet you both were
so surprised to meet," said Aunt Agatha, with reason-
able surprise.
"There are some moments when to see a man is to
remember him ever after," said Mary. "It was at such
a time that I saw Sir Edward's friend. It would be
best to tell you about it. Aunt Agatha. There was a
time when my poor Hugh "
"Oh, Mary, my darling, you can't think I want to
MADONNA MARY. 203
vex you," cried Aunt Agatha, "or make you go back
again upon anytliing tliat is painful. I am quite satis-
fied, for my ])art, wben you say so. And so would
Winnie be, 1 am sure."
"Satisfied?" said Mary, -wondering, and yet with a
smile-, and then she forgot the wonder of it in the
anxiety. "I should be sorry to think that Winnie
cared much for anything that could be said about
(3aptain Percival. I used to hear of him from the
Askells who were friends of his. Do not let her have
anything to do with him. Aunt Agatha; I am sure
he could bring her nothing but disappointment and
pain."
"I — JMary? — Oh, my dear love, what can I
do?" cried Miss Seton, in sudden confusion; and then
she paused and recovered herself. "Of course if he
was a wicked young man, I — I would not let Winnie
have anything to do with him," she added, faltering;
"but — do you think you are sure, Mary? If it should
be only that you do not — like him; or that you have
not got on — or something "
"I have told you that I know nothing of him.
Aunt," said Mary, "I saw him once at the most pain-
ful moment of my life, and spoke half-a-dozen Avords
to him in my own hoiise after that — but it is what
I have heard the gentlemen say. I do not like him. I
think it was unmannerly and indelicate to come to my
house at such a time "
"My darling!" said Aunt Agatha, soothing her
tenderly. JMiss Seton was thinking of the major's
death, not of any pain that miglit have gone before;
and ]\Iary by this time in the throng of recollections
204 MADONNA MARY.
that came upon her had forgotten that everybody diil
not know.
"But that is not the reason," Mrs. Ochterlony said,
composing herself: "the reason is that he couhl not,
unless he is greatly changed, make Winnie other-
wise than unhappy. I know the reputation he had.
The Ileskeths would not let him come to their
house after Annie came out; and I have even heard
Hugh "
"My dear love, you are agitating yourself," cried
Aunt Agatha. "Oh, Mary, if you only knew how
anxious I am to do anything to recall — — "
"Thank you," said Mrs. Ochterlony, with a faint
smile: "it is not so far off that I should require any-
thing to recall all that has happened to me — but for
Winnie's sake — - — "
And it was just at that monent that the light
suddenly appeared in Sir Edward's window, and
brought Winnie in, white and passionate, with a
thunder-cloud full of tears and lightnings and miserable
headache and self-reproach, lowering over her brilliant
eyes.
"It is very good of Mary, I am sure, to think of
something for my sake," said Winnie. "What is it,
Aunt Agatha? Everything is always so unpleasant
that is for one's good. I should like to know what it
was."
And then tliere was a dead silence in the pretty
room. Mary bent her head over her work, silenced by
the question, and Aunt Agatha, in a flutter of un-
certainty and tribulation, turned from one to the
other, not knowing which side to take nor what to
say.
MADONNA MARY. 205
"Mary has come among us a stranger," said Win-
nie, "and I suppose it is natural that slic sliould think
slic kuows our business better than we do. I suppose
that is always how it seems to a stranger; but at the
same time it is a mistake, Aunt Agatha, and I wish
you would let Mary know that we are disposed to
manage for ourselves. If we come to any harm it is
we who will have to suffer, and not Mary," the im-
petuous girl cried, as slie drew that unhappy embroidery
frame out of its corner.
And then another pause, severe and startling, fell
upon the little party. Aunt Agatha fluttered in her
chair, looking from one to another, and Winnie dragged
a violent needle through her canvas, and a great night
moth came in and circled about them, and dashed itself
madly against the globe of light on the table. As for
JMary, she sat working at Hugh's little blouse, and for
a long time did not speak.
"j\[y dear love!" Aunt Agatha said at last,
trembling, "you know there is nothing in the world I
would not do to please you, Winnie, — nor Mary
either. Oh, my dear children, there are only you two
in the world. If one says anything, it is for the other's
good. And here we are, three women together, and
we are all fond of each other, and surely, surely,
nothing ever can make any unpleasantness!" cried the
poor lady, with tears. She had her heart rent in two,
like every mediatrix, and yet the larger half, as was
natural, went to her darling's side.
"Winnie is right enough," Mary said, quietly. "I
am a stranger, and I have no right to interfere; and
very likely, even if I were permitted to interfere, it
would do no good. It is a shame to vex you, Aunt
206 MADONNA MARY.
Agatha. My sister must submit to bear my opinion
one time, but I am not going to disturb the peace of
the house, nor yours."
"Oh, Mary, my clear, it is only that she is a little,
impatient, and has always had her own way," said
Aunt Agatha, whispering across the table. And then
no more was said. Miss Seton took up her little socks,
and "Winnie continued to labour hotly at her em-
broidery, and the sound of Iut work, and the rustle oi'
Mary's arm at her sewing, and the little click of Aunt
Agatha's knitting-needles, and the mad dashes of the
moth at the lamp, were all the sounds in the room,
except, indeed, the sound of the Kirtell, flowing softly
over its pebbles at the foot of the brae, and the sigh-
ing of the evening air among the trees, which were
sadly contradictory of the spirit of the scene within;
and at a distance over the woods, gleamed Sir Ed-
ward's window, with the ill-disposed light Avhich was,
so to speak, the cause of all. Perhaps, after all, if
Mrs. Ochterlony had stayed at Earlston, where the
Psyche and the Venus were not sensitive, and there
was nothing but marble and china to jar into discord,
it might have been better; and what would have been
better still, was the grey cottage on the roadside, with
fire on the hearth and peace and freedom in the house;
and it was to that, with a deep and settled longing,
that Mary's heart and thoughts Avent always back.
When Mrs. Ochterlony had withdraAvn, the scene
changed much in Aunt Agatha's drawing-room. But
it was still a pretty scene. Then Winnie came and
poured out her girlish passion in the ears and at the
feet of her tender guardian. She sank down upon the
carpet, and laid her beautiful head upon Aunt Agatha's
MADONNA MARY. 207
knee, autl clasped her slender arms around her. "To
think she should come and drive every one I care for
away from the house, and set even you against me!"
cried Winnie, with sobs of vexation and rage.
"Oh, Winnie! not me! Never me, my darling,"
cried Aunt Agatha; and they made a group which a
painter would have loved, and which would have con-
veyed the most delicate conception of love and grief
to an admiring pixhlic, had it been painted. Nothing
less than a broken heart and a blighted life would have
been suggested to any innocent fancy by the abandon-
ment of misery in Winnie's attitude. And to tell the
truth, she was very unhappy, furious with Mary, and
with herself, and with her lover, and everybody in the
wide world. The braids of her beautiful hair got loose,
and the net that confined them came off, and the glisten-
ing silken flood came tumbling about her shoulders.
Miss Seton could not but take great handfuls of it as
she tried to soothe her darling; and poor Aunt Agatha's
licart was rent in twain as she sat with this lovely bur-
den in her lap, thinking, Oh, if nobody had ever come
to distract Winnie's heart with love-making, and bring
such disturbance to her life; oh, if Hugh Ochterlony
liad thought better of it, and had not died! Oh, if
^lary had never seen Captain Percival, or seeing him,
had approved of him , and thought him of all others
the mate she would choose for her sister ! The reverse
of all these wishes had happened, and Aunt Agatha
could not but look at the combination with a certain
despair.
"What can I do, my dear love?" she said. "It
is my fault that Mary has come here. You know your-
self it Avould have been unnatural if she had gone any-
208 MADONNA MARY.
Avhere else: and how could we go on having people,
with her in such deep mourning? And as for Captain
Percival, my darling — ^"
"I was not speaking of Captain Percival," said
Winnie, with indignation. "What is he to me? — or
any man? But what I will not bear is Mary interfering.
She shall not tell us what we are to do. She shan't
come in and look as if she understood everything