to ber own bosom. "No, Winnie; no, my darling ā
I am not sucb a poor soul as tbat. I bave bad my
c^ay."
And it was tbiis tbat tbe cloud rolled off, or seemed
to roll off, and tbat even in the midst of tbat sharp
reminder of tbe pain which life might still have in
store for ber, the touch of nature came to heal and
lielp. The enemy who knew all about it might have
come in bringing with him sickening suggestions of
horrible barm and mischief; but anything be could do
would be in vain here, where everybody knew more
about ber still; and to bave gained as she thought ber
little sister's heart, was a wonderful solace and con-
solation. Thus Mary's faith was revived again at tbe
moment when it was most sorely shaken, and she began
to feel, with a grateful sense of peace and security, tbe
comfort of being, as Aunt Agatha said, among her
own friends.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The announcement of Winnie's engagement made,
as was to be looked for, a considerable commotion
among all the people connected with ber. Tbe very
next morning Sir Edward himself came down to the
Cottage with a very serious face. He had been dis-
posed to play with tbe budding affection and to take
pleasure in tbe sight of the two young creatures as
they drew towards each other; for Percival, though in
love, was not without prudence (bis friend thought),
and Winnie, though very open to impressions, was ca-
224 MADONNA MARV.
piicious and fanciful, and not the kind of girl, Sir Ed-
ward imagined, to say Yes to the first man who asked
her. Thus tlie only sensible adviser on the spot had
wilfully blinded himself It had not occurred to him
that Winnie might think of Percival , not as the first
man who had ever asked her, but as the only man
whom she loved; nor that Percival, though prudent
enough, liked his own way, and was as liable to bo
carried away by passion as a better man. These re-
flections had not come into Sir Edward's head, and con-
sequently he had rather encouraged the growing tender-
ness, which now all at once had turned into earnest,
and had become a matter of responsibility and serious
concern. Sir Edward came into Miss Seton's pretty
drawing-room with care on his brow. The young-
people had gone out together to Kirtell-side to visit the
spot of their momentous interview, and doubtless to go
over it all again, as people do at that foolish moment,
and only Aunt Agatha and Mrs. Ochterlony were at
home. Sir Edward went in, and sat down between
the two ladies, and offered his salutations with a pen-
sive gravity which made Mary smile, but brought a
cloud of disquietude over Aunt Agatha's gentle coun-
tenance. He sighed as he said it was a fine day. He
even looked sympathetically at the roses, as if he knew
of some evil that was about to befall them; ā and his
old neighbour knew his ways and knew that he meant
something, and with natural consciousness divined at
once what it was.
"You have heard what has happened," said Aunt
Agatha, trembling a little, and laying down her work.
"It is so kind of you to come over at once; but I do
hope that is not why you are looking so grave?"
MADONNA MARY. 225
"Am I looking- grave?" said Sir Edward, clearing
np in an elaborate way, "I did not mean it, I am sure.
I suppose we ought to have seen it coming and been
prepared; but these sort of things always take one by
surprise. I did not think Winnie was the girl to ā to
make up her mind all at once , you know ā the
very first man that asked her. I suppose it was my
mistake."
"If you think it was the very first that asked her!"
cried Aunt Agatha, who felt this reproach go to her
heart, "it is a mistake. She is only eighteen ā a mere
child ā but I was saying to Mary only yesterday, that
it was not for want of being admired "
"Oh, yes," said Sir Edward, with a little wave of
his hand, "we all know she has been admired. One's
eyes alone would have proved that; and she deserves
to be admired ; and that is generally a girl's chief
stronghold, in my opinion. She knows it, and learns
her own value, and does not yield to the first fellow
who has the boldness to say right out "
"I assure you, Sir Edward," said Aunt Agatha,
growing red and very erect in her chair, and assuming
a steadiness which was unfortunately quite contradicted
by the passionate quiver of her lip, "tliat you do
"Winnie great injustice ā so far as being the first
goes "
"What does it matter if he were the first or the
fiftieth, if she likes him?" said Mary, who had begun
by being much amused, but who had ended by being
a little indignant; for she had herself married at eighteen
and never had a lover b\it Hugh Ochterlony, and felt
liorself disapproved of along with her sister.
Upon which Sir Edward shook his head.
Mmluiiwt Mary. I. l-J
226 MADONNA MARY.
"Certainly, my dear Mary, if she likes him," said
the Baronet; "but the discouraging thing is, that an
inexperienced girl ā a girl so very well brought up as
Winnie has been ā should allow herself, as I have
said, to like the very first man who presents himself.
One would have thought some sort of introduction was
necessary before such a thought could have penetrated
into her mind. After she had been obliged to receive
it in that way ā then, indeed ā ā But I am aware
that there are people who have not my scruples," said
Sir Edward, with a sigh; for he was, as all the neigh-
bourhood was aware , a man of the most delicate
mind.
"If you think my dear, pure-minded child is not
scrupulous. Sir Edward!" cried poor Aunt Agatha ā
but her emotion was so great that her voice failed her;
and Mary, half amused and half angry, was the only
champion left for Winnie's character, thus unexpectedly
assailed.
"Poor child, I think she is getting very hard
measure," said Mary. "I don't mean to blame you,
but I think both of you encouraged her up to the last
moment. You let them be always together, and smiled
on them; and they are young, and what else could you
expect? It is more delicate to love than to flirt," said
Mrs. Ochterlony. She had not been nearly so well
brought up as her sister, nor with such advanced
views, and what she said brought a passing blush upon
her matron cheek. Winnie could have discussed all
about love without the shadow of a blush, but that was
only the result of the chronological difference, and had
nothing to do Avith purity of heart.
"If we have had undue confidence," said Sir Ed-
MADONNA MARY. 227
ward, with a sigli, "we will Lave to pay for it. Mary-
speaks ā as I have heard many women speak ā with-
out making any consideration of the shock it must be
to a delicate young girl; and I think, after the share
which I may say I have myself had in Winnie's educa-
tion, that I might be permitted to express my surprise;
and Percival ought to have shown a greater regard for
the sacredness of hospitality. I cannot but say that I
was very much vexed and siirprised."
It may Av^ell be supposed that such an address, after
poor Aunt Agatha's delight and exultation in her child's
joy, and her willingness to see with Winnie's eyes and
accept Winnie's lover on his own authority, was a most
confounding utterance. She sat silent, poor lady, with
her lips apart and her eyes wide open, and a kind of
feeling that it was all over with Winnie in her heart.
Aunt Agatha was ready to fight her darling's battles
to her last gasp, but she was not prepared to be put
down and made an end of in this summary way. She
had all sorts of pretty lady-like deprecations about their
youth and Winnie's inexjierience ready in her mind,
and had rather hoped to be assured that to have her
favourite thus early settled in life was the very best
that anybody would desire for her. Miss Setou had
been so glad to think in former days that Sir Edward
always understood her, and she had thought Winnie's
interests were as dear to him as if she had been a child
of his own; and now to think that Sir Edward regarded
an event so important for Winnie as an evidence of
indelicacy on her part, and of a kind of treachery on
her lover's! All that Aunt Agatha could do was to
throw an appealing look at Mary, who had hitherto
been the only one dissatisfied or disapproving. She
15*
228 MADONNA MAKY.
knew more about Captain Percival than any one.
Would not she say a word for them now'r*
"He must have thought that was what you meant
when you let them be so much together," said Mary.
"I think, if you will forgive me, Sir Edward, that it
is not their fault."
Sir Edward answered this reproach only by a sigh.
He was in a despondent rather than a combative state
of mind. "And you see I do not know so much as I
should like to know about him," he said, evading the
personal question. "He is a very nice fellow; but I
told you the other day I did not consider him a paladin ;
and whether he has enough to live upon, or anything
to settle on her ā My dear Mary, at least you will
agree with me, that considering how short a time they
have known each other, things have gone a great deal
too far."
"I do not know how long they have known each
other," said Mary, who now felt herself called upon ab-
solutely to take Aunt Agatha's part.
"Ah, / know," said Sir Edward, "and so does your
aunt; and things did not go at rail-road speed like this
in our days. It is only about six weeks, and they are
engaged to be married! I suppose you know as much
about him as anybody ā or so he gave me to under-
stand at least; and do yoii think him a good match for
your young sister?" added Sir Edward, Avith a tone of
superior virtue which went to Mary's heart.
Mary was too true a woman not to be a par-
tisan, and had the feminine gift of putting her own
private sentiments out of the question in comparison
with the cause which she had to advocate; but still it
was an embarrassing question, especially as Aimt Agatha
MADONNA MARY. 229
was looking" at her witli the most pathetic appeal iu her
eyes.
"I know very little of Captain Percival," she said;
"I saw him once only in India, and it was at a mo-
ment very painful to me. But Winnie likes him ā
and you must have approved of him, Sir Edward, or
you would not have brought him here."
Upon which Aunt Agatha rose and kissed Mary,
recognising perfectly that she did not commit herself on
(he merits of the case, but at the same time sustained
it by her support. Sir Edward, for his part, turned a
deaf ear to the implied reproach, but still kept up his
melancholy view of the matter, and shook his head.
"He has good connexions," he said; "his mother
was a great friend of mine. In other circumstances,
and could we have made up our minds to it at the
])roper moment, she might have been Lady . But
it is vain to talk of that. I think we might push him
a little if he would devote himself steadily to his pro-
fession; but what can be expected from a man who
wants to marry at five-and-twenty? I myself," said Sir
lOdward, with dignity, "though the eldest son ā "
"Yes," said Aunt Agatha, unable to restrain herself
longer, "and see what has come of it. You are all by
yourself at the Hall, and not a soul belonging to
you; and to see Francis Ochterlony with his statues
and nonsense! ā Oh, Sir Edward! when you might
have had a dozen lovely children growing up round
you ā "
"Heaven forbid!" said Sir Edward, piously; and
then he sighed ā perhaps only from the mild mel-
ancholy which possessed him at the moment, and was
occasioned by Winnie's indelicate haste to fall in love;
230 MADONNA MARY.
perhaps, also, from some toucb of personal feeling. A
dozen lovely children might be rather too heavy an
amount of happiness , while yet a modified bliss would
have been sweet. He sighed and leant his head upon
his hand, and withdrew into himself for the moment in
that interesting way Avhich was habitual to him, and
had gained him the title of "poor Sir Edward." It
might be very foolish for a man (who had his own way
to make in the world) to marry at five-and-twenty; but
still, perhaps it was rather more foolish when a man
did not marry at all, and was left in his old age all
alone in a great vacant house. But naturally, it was
not this view of the matter which he displayed to his
feminine companions, who were both women enough to
have triumphed a little over such a confession of failure.
He had a fine head, though he was old, and his hand
was as delicate and almost as pale as ivory, and he
could not but know that he looked interesting in that
particular attitude, though, no doubt, it was his soli-
citude for these two indiscreet young people which
chiefly moved him. "I am quite at a loss what to do,"
he said. "Mrs. Percival is a very fond mother, and
she will naturally look to me for an account of all tliis;
and there is your Uncle Penrose, Mary ā a man I
could never bear, as you all know ā he will come in
all haste, of course, and insist upon settlements and so
forth; and why all this responsibility should come on
me, who have no desire in this world but for tranquillity
and peace ā "
"It need not come on you," said Mrs. Ochterlony;
"we are not very great biasiness people, but still, with
Aunt Agatha and myself ā ā "
Sir Edward smiled. The idea diverted him so much
JFADONNA MARY. 231
that he raised his head from his hand. "My dear
Mar}'," he said, "I have the very highest opinion of
your capacity; but in a matter of this kind, for in-
stance ā And I am not so utterly selfish as to forsake
my old neighbour in distress."
Here Aunt Agatha took up her own defence. "I
don't consider that I am in distress," she said. "I must
say, I did not expect anything like this. Sir Edward,
from you. If it had been Mr. Penrose, with his mer-
cenary ideas ā I was very fond of Mary's poor dear
mamma, and I don't mean any reflection on her, poor
darling ā but I suppose that is how it always happens
with people in trade. Mr. Penrose is always a trial,
and Mary knows that; but I hope I am able to bear
something for my dear child's sake," Aunt Agatha con-
tinued, growing a little excited; "though I never
thought that I should have to bear ā " and then the
poor lady gave a stifled sob, and added in the midst of
it, "this from you!"
This was a kind of climax which had arrived be-
fore in the familiar friendship so long existing betAveen
the Hall and the Cottage. The two principals knew
how to make it up better than the spectator did who
was looking on with a little alarm and a little amuse-
ment. Perhaps it was as well that Mary was called
away to her o^vn individiaal concerns, and had to leave
Aunt Agatha and Sir Edward in the height of their
misunderstanding. Maiy went away to her children,
and perhaps it was only in the ordinary course of
human nature that when she went into the nursery
among those three little human creatures, who were so
entirely dependent upon herself, there should be a
smile upon her face as she thought of the two old
232 JIADONNA MARY,
people she had left. It seemed to her, as perhaps it
seems to most women in the presence of their own
children, at sight of those three boys ā who were
"mere babies" to Aunt Agatha, but to Mary the most
important existences in the world ā as if this serio-
comic dispute about Winnie's love affairs was the most
quaintly-ridiculous exhibition. When she was con-
scious of this thought in her own mind, she rebuked it,
of course; but at the first glance it seemed as if Winnie's
falling in love was so trivial a matter ā so little to be
put in comparison with the grave cares of life. There
are moments when the elder women, who have long
passed tlirough all that, and have entered upon another
stage of existence, cannot but smile at the love-matters,
without considering that life itself is often decided by
the complexion of the early romance, which seems to
belong only to its lighter and less serious side. Sir
Edward and Aunt Agatha for their part had never,
old as they both were, got beyond the first stage ā
and it was natural it should bulk larger in their eyes.
And this time it was they who were right, and not
Mary, whose children were but children, and in no
danger of any harm. Whereas, poor Winnie, at the
top of happiness ā gay, reckless, daring, and assured
of her own future felicity ā was in reality a creature
in deadly peril and wavering on the verge of her
fate.
But when the day had come to an end, and Cap-
tain Percival had at last retired, and Winnie, a little
languid after her lover's departure, sat by the open
window watching, no longer with despite or displeasure,
the star of light which shone over the tree-tops from
the Hall, there occurred a scene of a different descrip-
MADONNA MARY. 233
tion. But foi* die entire change In Winnie's looks and
manner, the absence of the embroidery frame at which
she had worked so violently, and the languid softened
grace with which she had thrown herself down upon a
low chair, too happy and content to feel called upon
to do anything, the three ladies were just as they had
been a few evenings before; that is to say, that Aunt
Agatha and Mary, to neither of whom any change was
possible, were just as they had been before, while to
the girl at the window, everything in heaven and earth
had changed. The two others had had their day and
were done Avith it. Though Miss Seton was still
scarcely an old woman, and Mary was in the full
vigour and beauty of life, they were both ashore high
up upon the beach, beyond the range of the highest
tide; while the other, in her boat of hope, was playing
with the rippling incoming waters, and preparing to
put to sea. It was not in nature that the two who had
been at sea, and knew all the storms and dangers,
should not look at her wistfully in her happy ignorance,
perhaps even they looked at her with a certain envy
too. But Aunt Agatha was not a woman who could
let eitlier well or ill alone ā and it was she who dis-
turbed the household calm which might have been pro-
found that night, so far as "Winnie was concerned.
"My dear love," said Aunt Agatha, with a timidity
which implied something to tell, " Sir Edward has been
here. Captain Percival had told him, you know ā "
"Yes," said "Winnie, carelessly, "I know."
"And, my darling," said Miss Seton, "I am sure
it is what I never could have expected from him, who
was always such a friend; but I sometimes think he
gets a little strange ā as he gets old, you know ā "
234 MADONNA MARY.
This was what the unprincipled woman said, not
caring in the least how much she slandered Sir Edward,
or anybody else in the world, so long as she gave a
little comfort to the child of her heart. And as for
Winnie, though she had been brought up at his feet,
as it were, and was supposed by himself and others to
love him like a child of his own, she took no notice of
this unfounded accusation. She was thinking of quite
a different person, just as Aunt Agatha was thinking
of her, and Mary of her boys. They were women,
each preoccupied and absorbed in somebody else, and
they did not care about justice. And thus Sir Edward
for the moment fared badly among them , though , if
any outside assailant had attacked him, they would all
have fought for him to the death.
"Well!" said Winnie, still very carelessly, as Miss
Seton came to a sudden stop.
"My dear love!" said Aunt Agatha, "he has not a
word to say against Captain Percival, that I can
see ā "
"Against Edward?" cried Winnie, raising herself
up. "Good gracious, Aunt Agatha, what are you
thinking of? Against Edward! I should like to know
what he could say. His own god-father ā and his
mother was once engaged to him ā and he is as good
as a relation, and the nearest friend he has. What
could he possibly have to say? And besides, it was
he who brought him here; and we think he will leave
us the most of his money," Winnie said, hastily ā and
then was very sorry for what she had said, and blushed
scarlet and bit her lips, but it was too late to draw
back.
"Winnie," said Miss Seton, solemnly. "If he has
MADONNA MARY. 235
been calculating upon what people will leave to him
when they die, I will think it is all true that Sir Ed-
ward said."
"You said Sir Edward did not say anything," cried
Winnie. "What is it you have heard? It is of no
use trying to deceive me. If there has been anything
said against him, it is Mary who had said it. I can
see by her face it is Mary. And if she is to be heard
against /i/wĀ«," cried AVinnie, rising up in a blaze of
wrath and indignation, "it is only just that he should
be heard on the other side. He is too good and too
kind to say things about my sister to me; but Mary is
only a woman, and of course she does not mind what
she says. She can blacken a man behind his back,
though he is ftir too honourable and too ā too delicate
to say what he knows of her!'"
This unlocked for assault took Mary so entirely by
surprise, that she looked up with a certain bewilder-
ment, and could not lind a word to say. As for Aunt
Agatha, she too rose and took Winnie's hands, arid
put her arms round her as much as the angiy girl
would permit.
"It was not Mary," she said. "Oh, Winnie, my
darling, if it was for your good, and an ease to my
mind, and better for you in life ā if it was for your
good, my dear love ā that is what we are all think-
ing of ā could not you give him up?"
It was, perhaps, the boldest thing Aunt Agatha
had ever done in all her gentle life ā and even Win-
nie could not but be influenced by such unusual reso-
lution. She made a wild effort to escape for the first
moment, and stood with her hands held fast in Aunt
Agatha's hands, avcrtiug her angry face, and refusing
236 MADONNA MAllY.
to answer. But when she felt herself still held fast,
and that her fond guardian had the courage to hold to
her question, Winnie's anger turned into another kind
of passion. The tears came pouring to her eyes in a
sudden violent flood, which she neither tried to stop
nor to hide. "No!" cried Winnie, Avith the big thunder-
drops falling hot and heavy. "What is my good with-
out him? If it was for my harm I shouldn't care.
Don't hold me, don't look at me, Aunt Agatha! I
don't care for anything in the world but Edward. I
would not give him up ā no, not if it was to break
everybody's heart. What is it all to me without Ed-
ward?" cried the passionate girl. And when Miss
Seton let her go, she threw herself on her chair again,
with the tears coming in floods, but still facing them
both throiigh this storm-shower with crimson cheeks
and shining eyes. As for poor Aunt Agatha, she too
tottered back to her chair, frightened and abashed, as
well as in distress; for young ladies had not been in
the habit of talking so freely in her days.
"Oh, Winnie ā and we have loved you all your
life; and you have only known him a few weeks," she
said, faltering, and with a natural groan.
"I cannot help it," said Winnie; "you may think
me a wretch, but I like him best. Isn't it natural I
should like him best? Mary did, and ran away,
and nobody was shocked at her; and even you your-
self "
"I never, never, could have said such a thing all
my life!" cried Aunt Agatha, with a maiden blush
upon her sweet old cheeks.
"If you had, you would not have been a as
you are now," said the dauntless Winnie; and she re-
MADONNA MARY. 237
covered in the twinkling of an eye, and wiped away
her tears, and was lierself again. Possibly what she
had said was trne and natural, as she asserted; bnt it
is an xinqnestionable fact, that neither her annt nor
her sister could have said it for their lives. She was
a young lady of the nineteenth century, and she acted
accordingly; but it is a certain fact, as Aunt Agatha
justly observed, whatever people may think now, that
girls did not speak like that in oiw day.
CHAPTER XIX.
The few weeks which ensued were the most stormy
and troublous period of all Miss Seton's life; and through
her there was naturally a considerable disturbance of
the peace of the Cottage. Though she lived so quietly,
she had what is called in the country "a large circle,"
and had dwelt among her own people all her life, {ind
was known to everybody about. It was a quiet neigh-
bourhood, but yet there never was a neighbourhood so
quiet as not to have correspondents and relations living
out in the world, to whom all news went, and from
whom all news came. And there were a number of
"families" about Kirtell, not great people certainly,
but very respectable people, gentry, and well-connected
persons hanging on by various links to the great world.