In this way Winnie's engagement, which nobody wanted
to conceal, came to be known far and wide, as such
facts are so apt to get known. And a great many
people out in the world, who had once known Miss
Seton, wrote letters to her, in which they suggested
that perhaps she had forgotten them, but hoped that
238 MADONNA MARY.
she would excixse tliem, and attribute it to the regard
which they had never ceased to feel for her, if they
asked, Did she know Captain Percival very well, who
was said to be engaged to her pretty niece? Had she
heard what happened in the Isle of Man when his
regiment was stationed there? and why it was that he
did not go out to Gibraltar after he had got that ap-
pointment? Other people, who did not know Aunt
Agatha, took what was after all the more disagreeable
step of writing to their friends in the jjarish about the
young man, whose career had certainly left traces, as
it appeared, upon the memory of his generation. To
rise every morning with a sense, that such an epistle
might be awaiting her on the breakfast-table ā or to
receive a visitor with the horrible conviction that she
had come to look into her face, and hold her hand,
and be confidential and sympathetic, and deliver a
solemn warning ā was an oi'deal which Aunt Agatha
found it hard to bear. She was a woman who never
forgot her character as a maiden lady, and liked to be
justified by precedents and to be approved of by all
the world. And these repeated remonstrances had no
doubt a great effect upon her mind. They filled her
with terrible misgivings and embittered her life, and
drove her noAV and then into so gTeat a panic that she
felt disposed to thrust Captain Percival out of the house
and forbid his reappearance there. But then, Winnie.
Winnie was not the girl to submit to any such violent
remedies. If she could not see her lover there, she
would find means to see him somewhere else. If she
could not be married to him with stately propriety in
her parish church, she Avould manage to marry him
somehow in any irregular way, and she would by no
MADONNA MARY. 239
means hesitate to say so or shrink from the respon-
sibility. And if it must be done, would it not be bet-
ter that it should be done correctly, than incorrectly,
and with all things decent and in order? Thus poor
Aunt Agatha would muse as she gathered up her
bundle of letters. It might have been all very well
for parents to exercise their authority in the days when
their children obeyed them-, but what was the use of
issuing commands to which nobody would pay any
attention? AVinnic had very plainly expressed her
preference for her own happiness rather than her aunt's
peace of mind; and though J\Iiss Seton would never
have consented to admit that Winnie was anything less
than the most beautiful character, still she was aware
that unreasoning obedience was not her faculty. Besides,
another sentiment began to mingle with this prudential
consideration. Everybody was against the poor young
man. The first letters she received about him made
her miserable; but after that there was no doubt a
revulsion. Everybody was against him, poor fel-
low! ā and he was so young, and could not, after
all, have done so much harm in the world. "He
has not had the time, Mary," she said, with an appeal
to Mrs. Ochterlony for support. "If he had been doing-
wrong from his very cradle, he could not have had the
time." She could not refuse to believe what was told
her, and yet notwithstanding her belief she clung to
the culprit. If he had found any other advocate it
might have been different; but nobody took the other
side of the question: nobody wrote a pretty letter to
say what a dear fellow he was, and how glad his
friends were to think he had found some one worthy
240 MADONNA MAllY.
of him ā not even bis mother 5 and Aunt Agatha's
lieart accordingly became the avvocato del diavolo. Fair
play was due even to Captain Percival. It was im-
possible to leave him assailed as be was by so many
without one friend.
It was a curious sight to see how she at once re-
ceived and ignored all the information thus conveyed
to her. A woman of a harder type would probably,
as women do, have imputed motives, and settled the
matter with the general conclusion that "an enemy
hath done this;" but Aunt Agatha could not help, for
the moment at least, believing in everybody. She
could not say right out, "It is not true," even to the
veriest impostor who deceived and got money from her,
and their name was legion. In her own innocent soul
she had no belief in lies, and could not understand
them ; and it was easier for her to give credence to the
wildest marvel than to believe that anybody could tell
her a deliberate falsehood. She would have kissed the
ladies who wrote to her of those stories about Captain
J^ercival, and cried and wrung her hands, and asked,
What could she do? ā and yet her heart was by no
means turned against him, notwithstanding her belief
in what everybody said; which is a strange and novel
instance, well enough known to social philosophers,
but seldom remarked upon, of the small practical in-
fluence of belief upon life. "How can it be a lie, my
dear child? what motive could they all have to tell
lies?" she would say to Winnie, mournfully; and yet
ten minutes after, when it was Mrs. Ochterlony she
was speaking to, she would make her piteous appeal
for him, poor fellow! ā "Everybody is against him;
MADONNA MARV. 241
and lie is so youug still; and ob, IMaiy, liow miicli he
must need looking after," Aunt Agatha would say, "if
it is all true!"
Perhaps it was stranger still that Mary, who did
not like Caj^tain Percival, and was convinced of the
truth of all the stories told of him, and knew in her
heart that he was her enemy and would not scruple to
do her harm if the chance should come in his way ā
was also a little moved by the same argument. Every-
body was against him. It was the Cottage against the
world, so far as he was concerned; and even Mrs.
Ochterlony, though she ought to have known better,
could not help feeling herself one of a "side," and to a
certain extent felt her honour pledged to the defence
of her sister's lover. Had she, in the very heart of this
stronghold which was standing out for him so stoutly,
lifted up a testimony against him, she would have felt
herself in some respects a domestic traitor. She might
be silent on the subject, and avoid all comment, but
she could not utter an adverse opinion, or join in with
tlie g(>neral voice against which Aunt Agatha and
Winnie stood forth so steadfastly. As for Winnie, every
word that was said to his detriment made her more
determined to adhere to him. What did it matter
whether he was good or bad, so long as it was indis-
putably he? There was but one Edward Percival in
the world, and he would still be Edward Percival if
he had committed a dozen murders, or gambled twenty
fortunes away. Such was Winnie's defiant way of
treating the matter which concerned her more closely
than anybody else. She carried things with a high
hand in those days. All the world was against her,
and she scorned the world. She attributed motives,
Madonna Mary. I. lo
.MADONNA MARY.
tliougli Aunt Agatha did not. She said it was envy
and jealousy and all the evil passions. She made wild
counter-acciisations, in the style of that literature which
sets forth the skeleton in every man's closet. Who
could tell what little incidents could be found out in
the private history of the ladies who had so much to
say about Captain Percival? This is so ordinary a
mode of defence, that no doubt it is natural, and
Winnie went into it with good will. Thus his standard
was planted upon tlie Cottage, and however unkindly
people might think of him outside, shelter and su}>port
were always to be found within. Even Peggy, though
she did not always agree with her mistress, felt, as
Mrs. Ochterlony did, that she was one of a side, and
became a partisan with an earnestness that was impos-
sible to Mary. Sir Edward shook his head still, but
he was disarmed by the close phalanx and the deter-
mined aspect of PercivaFs defenders. "It is true love,"
he said in his sentimental way; "and love can work
miracles when e-A'^erything else has failed. It may be
his salvation." This was Avhat he wrote to Percival's
mother, who, up to this moment, had been but doubt-
ful in her approbation, and very anxious, and uncer-
tain, as she said, whether she ought not to tell Miss
Seton that Edward had been "foolish." He had been
"foolish," even in his mother's opinion; and his other
critics were, some of them, so tolerant as to say "gay,"
and some "wild," while a few used a more solemn
style of diction; ā but everybody was against him,
whatever terms they might employ; everybody except
the ladies at the Cottage, who set up his standard, and
accepted him with all his initjuities upon his head.
It may be worth while at this point, before Mr.
MADONNA MAKY. 243
Penrose arrives, who played so important a part in tlie
business, to say a word about the poor yonng man who
was thus universally assailed. He was five-and-twenty
and a yonng man
spent every ftirthing which came to himself at his
majority, and a good deal more than that, still his
mother had a nice estate, and Sir Edward was his god-
father, and the world was full of obliging tradespeople
and other amiable persons. He was a handsome fel-
low, nearly six feet high, with j)lenty of hair, and a
moustache of the most charming growth. The hair
was of dull brown, which was rather a disadvantage to
him, but then it went perfectly well with his pale com-
plexion, and suited the cloudy look over the eyes,
which was the most characteristic point in his face.
The eyes themselves were good, and had, when they
chose, a sufficiently frank expression, but there lay
about the eyebrows a number of lurking hidden linos
Avliich looked like mischief ā lines which could be
brought into action at any moment, and could scowl,
or lower, or brood, according to the fancy of their
owner. Some people thought this \incertainty in his
face was its greatest charm-, you could nOAer tell whrt
a moment might bring forth from that moveable aid
changing forehead. It was suggestive, as a great man}'
persons thought ā suggestive of storm and thunder,
and sudden disturbance, or even in some eyes of
cruelty and gloom ā though ho was a fine young
man, and gay and fond of his pleasure. Winnie, as
may be supposed, was not of this latter opinion. She
even loved to bring out those hidden lines, and call the
shadows over his face, for the pleasure of seeing hov/
they melted away again, according to the use and wont
244 MADONNA MARY.
of young ladles. It was a sort of uncertainty that was
permissible to him, who had been a spoiled child, and
whom everybody, at the beginning of his career, had
petted and taken notice of; but possibly it was a qua-
lity which would not have called forth much admira-
tion from a wife.
And with Winnie standing by him as she did ā
clinging to him closer at every new accusation, and
proclaiming, without faltering, her indiflFerence to any-
thing tliat could be said, and her conviction that the
worse he was the more need he had of her ā Captain
Percival, too, took matters very lightly. The two
foolish young creatures even came to laugh, and make
fun of it in their way. "Here is Aunt Agatha coming
with another letter; I wonder if it is to say that I poi-
soned my grandmother, this time?" cried the young
man; and they both laughed as if it was the best joke
in the world. If ever there was a moment in which,
when they were alone, Winnie did take a momentary
thought of the seriousness of the position, her gravity
soon dissipated itself. "I know yovi have been very
naughty," she would say, clasping her pretty hands
upon his arm; "but you will never, never do it again,"
and the lover, thus appealed to, would make the ten-
derest and most eager assurances. What temptation
could he ever have to be "naughty" with such an
angel by his side? And Winnie was pleased enough
to play the part of the angel ā though that was not,
perhaps, her most characteristic development ā and
went home full of happiness and security; despising the
world which never had understood Edward, and think-
ing with triumph of the disappointed women less happy
than herself, who, out of revenge, had no doubt got up
MADONNA MARY. 245
this outcry against him. "For I don't mean to defend
him out and out," she said, her eyes sparkling with
malice and exultation; "I don't mean to say that he
has not hehaved very badly to a great many people:"
and there was a certain sweet self-glorification in the
thought which intoxicated Winnie. It was wicked, but
somehow she liked him better for having behaved badly
to a great many people: and naturally any kind of
reasoning was entirely ineffectual with a foolish girl
who had taken such an idea into her mind.
Thus things went on; and Percival went away and
returned again, and paid many flying visits, and, pre-
sent and absent, absorbed all Winnie's thoughts. It was
not only a first love, but it was a first occupation to
the young woman, who had never felt, up to this time,
that she had a sufficient sphere for her energies. Now
she could look forward to being married, to receiving
all the presents, and being busy about all the busiiiess
of that important moment; and beyond lay life ā life
without any one to restrain her, without even the bon-
dage of habit, and the necessity of taking into consi-
deration what people would think. Winnie said frankly
that she would, go with him anywhere, that she did not
mind if it was India, or even the Cape of Good Hope;
and her eyes sparkled to think of the everything new
which would replace to her all the old bonds and limits:
though, in one point of view, this was a cruel satisfac-
tion, and very wounding and injurious to some of the
other people concerned.
"Oh, Winnie, my darling! and what am I to do
without you?" Aunt Agatha would cry; and the girl
would kiss her in her laughing way. "It must have
come, sooner or later," she said; "you always said so
246 MADONNA MARY.
yourself. I dou't see wby you should not get married
too, 'Aunt Agatlia; you are perfectly beautiful some-
times, and a great deal younger than ā many people;
or, at least, you will have Mary to be your husband,"
Winnie would add, with a laugh, and a touch of affec-
tionate S]3ite: for the two sisters, it must be allowed,
were not to say fond of each other. Mary had been
brought up differently, and was often annoyed, and
sometimes shocked, by Winnie's ways: and Winnie ā
though at times she seemed disposed to make friends
with her sister ā could not help thinking of Mary as
somehow at the bottom of all that had been said about
Edward. This, indeed, was an idea which her lover
and she shared: and Mary's life was not made plea-
santer to her by the constant implication that he, too,
could tell something about her - ā which she despised
too much to take any notice of, but which yet was an
offence and an insult. So that on the whole ā even
before the arrival of Mr. Penrose ā the Cottage on
Kirtell-side, though as bowery and fair as ever, was, in
reality, an agitated and even an uncomfortable home.
CHAPTER XX.
Mr. Penrose was the uncle of Mary and Winnie,
their mother's only brother. Mrs. Seton had come from
Liverpool originally, and though herself very "nice,"
had not been, according to Aunt Agatha's opinion, "of
a nice class." And -her brother shared the evil condi-
tions, without sharing the good. He was of his class
soul and body, and it was not a nice class ā and, to
MADONNA MARY. 247
tell tlie truth, his nieces had been brought up to ignore
lather than to take any pleasure in him. lie was not
a man out of whom, under the best circumstances,
much satisfaction could be got. lie was one of the
men who always turn up when something about money
is going on in a honso. He had had to do Avith all
the wills and settlements in the family, though they
were of a very limited description; but Mr. Penrose did
not despise small things, and was of opinion, that even
if you had only a hundred pounds, you ought to know
all about it, and how to take care of it. And he had
once been very kind to Aunt Agatha, who was always
defective in her arithmetic, and who, in earlier days,
wliile she still thought of a possible change in her con-
dition, had gone beyond the just limit of her income,
and got into difiiculties. Mr. Penrose had interfered
at that period, and had been very kind, and set her
straight, and had given her a very telling address upon
the value of money: and though Miss Seton was not one
of the people who take a favour as an injui-y, still she
could have forgiven him a great many ill turns sooner
than that good one. He had been very kind to her
;ind had ruflled all her soft plumes, and rushed up
against her at all her tender points; and the very sound
of his name was a lively irritant to Aunt Agatha.
But he had to be acquainted with Winnie's engage-
ment, and when he received the information, he lost no
time in coming to see about it. He was a largo,
portly, well-to-do man, with one of his hands always
in his pocket, and seemed somehow to breathe money,
and to have no ideas which did not centre in it; and
yet he had a good many ideas, and was a clever man
in his wny. With him, as with many people in the
248 MADONNA MARY.
world, there was one thing needful, and that one thing
was money. He thought it was a duty to possess some-
thing ā a duty Avhich a man owed absolutely to him-
self, and to all who belonged to him ā and if he did
not acquit himself well on this point, he was, in Mr.
Penrose's opinion, a very indifferent sort of person.
There is something immoral to most people in the fact
of being poor, but to Mr. Penrose it was a crime. He
was very well off himself, but he was not a man to
communicate of his goods as he did of his advice; and
then he had himself a family, and could not be ex-
pected to give anything except advice to his nieces ā
and as for that one good thing, it was at their com-
mand in the most liberal way. He came to the Cot-
tage, which was so especially a lady's house, and per-
vaded the whole place with his large male person, dif-
fusing through it that moral fragrance which still
betrays the Englishman, the man of business, the
Liverpool man, wherever he may happen to bless the
earth. Perhaps in that sweet-smelling dainty place, the
perfume Avhich breathed from Mr. Penrose told more
decidedly than in the common air. As soon as you
went in at the garden-gate you became sensible that
the atmosphere was changed, and that a Man was
there. Perhaps it may be thought that the presence of
a man in Aunt Agatha's maiden bower was not what
might be called strictly proper, and Miss Seton herself
had doubts on the subject; but then, Mr. Penrose never
ajked for any invitation, and it would have been very
difficult to turn him out; and Mary was there, who at
least was a married lady. He came without any invita-
tion , and asked which was his room as if it had been
his own house ā and he complained of what he called
MADONNA MARY. 249
"the smell" of the roses, and declared he would tear
down all the sickly jasmine from the side of the house
if it belonged to him. All this Miss Setou endured
silently, feeling it her duty, for Winnie's sake, to
keep all her connexions in good humour; but the poor
lady suffered terribly under the process, as everybody
could see.
"I hope it is only a conditional sort of engagement,"
Mr. Penrose said, after he had made himself comfort-
able, and had had a good dinner, and came into the
drawing-room the first evening. The lovers had seized
the opportunity to escape to Kirtell-side, and Mary was
with her boys in the garden, and poor Aunt Agatha, a
martyr of civility, was seated alone, awaiting the re-
appearance of her guest, and smiling upon him with
anxious politeness. He threw himself into the largest
and most solid chair he could find, and spread himself,
as it seemed, all over the room ā a Man, coarse and
undisguised, in that soft feminine paradise. Poor Sir
Edward's graceful presence, and the elegant figure of
Captain Percival, made no such impression. "I hope
you have not settled it all without consulting any-
body. To be sure, that don't matter very much; but
I know you ladies have a summary way of settling
such affairs."
"Indeed, I ā I am afraid ā I ā I hope ā it is
all settled," said Aunt Agatha, with tremulous dignity.
"It is not as if there was a great deal of money to
settle. They are not ā not rich, you know," she
added, nervously. This was the chief thing to tell, and
she was anxious to get it over at once.
"Not rich?" said Mr. Penrose. "No, I suppose
not. A rich fellow would not have been such a fool
250 MADONNA MARY.
as to entangle liimself with Winnie, avIio lias only her
pretty face; but he has something, of course. The first
thing to ascertain is, what they will have to live on,
and what he can settle upon her. I suppose you have
not let it go so far without having a kind of idea on
these points?"
"Oh, yes," said Aunt Agatha, with a very poor
pretence at composure; "oh, yes, Mr. Penrose, that is
all quite right. He has very nice expectations. I have
always heard that Mrs. Percival had a charming little
jiroperty; and Sir Edward is his godfather, and very
fond of him. You will see it will come all right about that."
"Yes," said Mr. Penrose, who was nursing one of
his legs ā a colossal member, nearly as big as his
liostess ā ā¢ in a meditative way, "I hope it will wlien /
come to look into it. But Ave must have something
more than expectations. What has he of his own? ā
and what do his mother and Sir Edward mean to do
for him? We must have it in pounds, shillings, and
pence, or he shan't have Winnie. It is best tliat he
should make up his mind about that."
Aunt Agatha drew a frightened, panting breath;
but she did not say anything. She had known what
she would have to brave, and she was aware that
Winnie would not brave it, and that to prevent a
breach with her darling's only rich relation, it was ne-
cessary and expedient as long as she was alone to have
it all out.
"Let me see," said Mr. Penrose, "you told me what
he was in your letter ā Captain, ain't he? As for his
pay, that don't count. Let us go systematically to
work if we are to do any good. I know ladies are
very vague about lousiness matters, but still you must
MADONNA MARY. 251
know somelliiug'. What sort of a fellow is he, and
what has he got of his own?"
"Oh, he is very nice," cried Aunt Agatha, consoled
to find a question she could answer; "very, very nice.
I do think you will like him very much-, such a fine
j-oung fellow, and with what you gentlemen call no
nonsense about him," said the anxious woman; "and
with excellent connexions," she added, faltering again,
for her enthusiasm awoke no answer in Mr. Penrose's
face.
"My dear Miss Agatha," he said in his offensive
way ā and he always called her Miss Agatha, which
Avas very trying to her feelings ā "yon need not take
the trouble to assure me that a handsome young fellow
who pays her a little attention, is always very nice to
a lady. I was not asking whether he was nice; I was
asking what were his means ā which is a very much
more important part of the subject, though you may
not think so," Mr. Penrose added. "A charming little
house like this, for instance, where you can have every-
tliing within yourself, and can live on honey and dew
I suppose, may be kept on nothing ā though you and
I, to be sure, know a little different "
"Mr. Penrose," said Aunt Agatha, trembling with
indignation, "if you mean that the dinner was not par-
ticubu* enough "
"It was a charming little dinner," said Mr. Pen-
rose, "just what it ought to have been. Nothing could
have been nicer than that white soup; and I think I
am a judge. I was speaking of something to live on;
a pretty house like this, I was saying, is not an ana-
logous case. You have everything within yourself ā
^^^i'y, and vegetables, and fruit, and your butter and
252 MADONNA MARY.
milk so cheap. I wish we could get it like that in
Liverpool, and ā pardon me ā -no increase of family
likely, you know."
"My niece Mary and her three children have come
to the Cottage since you were last here, Mr. Penrose,"
said Aunt Agatha, with a blush of shame and displea-