Tea came in, and, with tea, Aunt Anne.It was the first time that day that Maggie had seen her, and now, conscious of the news that Martin had given her, she felt a movement of sympathy, of pity and affection.Aunt Anne had been in her room all day, and she seemed as she walked slowly to the fire to be of a finer pallor, a more slender body than ever.Maggie felt as though she could see the firelight through her body, and with that came also the conviction that Aunt Anne knew everything, knew about Martin and the posted letter and the thoughts of escape.Maggie herself was tired with the trial of her waiting day, she was exhausted and was beating, with all her resolve, against a disappointment that hammered with a thundering noise, somewhere far away in the recesses of her soul.So they all drew around the fire and had their tea.
Aunt Anne, leaning back in her chair, her beautiful hands stretched out on the arms, a fine white shawl spread on her knees, asked Maggie about last night.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself, dear." "Very much, Aunt Anne.Uncle Mathew was very kind.""What did you do?"
Maggie flushed.It was deceit and lies now all the time, and oh! how she hated lies! But she went on:
"Do you know, Aunt Anne, I think Uncle Mathew is so changed.He's younger and everything.He talked quite differently last night, about his business and all that he's doing.He's got his money in malt now, he says.""Whose money?" asked Aunt Anne.
"His own, he says.I never knew he had any.But he says yes, it's in malt.It's not a nice hotel, though, where he lives.""Not nice, dear?"
"No, I didn't like it.But it's only for men really of course.""I think he'd better take you somewhere else next time.I'll speak to him.By the way, Maggie dear, Martha tells me you went out yesterday afternoon all alone--into the Strand.I think it would be better if you were to tell us."Maggie's cheeks were hot.She set back her shoulders.
"How does Martha know?" she asked quickly."I only went for a moment--only for a little walk.But I'm grown up, Aunt Anne.Surely I can go out by myself if..." she stopped, looking away from them into the fire.
"It isn't that, dear," Aunt Anne said very gently."It's only that you've been so little a time in London that you can't know your way about yet.And London's a strange place.It might be unpleasant for you alone.I'd rather that you told us first."Then Maggie delivered her challenge.
"But, aunt, I won't be always here.I'm going off to earn my living soon, aren't I?"Aunt Elizabeth drew her breath in sharply.Aunt Anne said quietly:
"You are free, dear, quite free.But whilst I am not quite myself--Idon't want to be selfish, dear--but you are a great comfort to us, and when I am stronger certainly you shall go...even now if you wish, of course...but my illness."Even as she spoke--and it was the first time that she had ever mentioned her illness--she caught at her breast and pressed her hand there as though she were in great pain.Maggie sprang to her side.
She caught the girl's hand with hers and held her.Maggie could feel her swift agonized breathing.Then with a little sigh the moment had passed.Maggie still knelt there looking up into her aunt's face.
Martha's voice was heard at the door.
"Mr.Martin Warlock, Miss.Could you see him?...""Yes, Martha," said Aunt Anne, her voice calm and controlled."Ask him to come up."She had abandoned so completely any idea that he might still come that she could not now feel that it was he.She withdrew from her aunt's side and stood in the shadow against the wall.
Although her heart beat wildly her whole mind was bent upon composure, upon showing nothing to her aunts, and on behaving to him as though she scarcely knew him, but so soon as he entered the room some voice cried in her: "He is mine! He is mine!" She did not stir from her wall, but her eyes fastened upon him and then did not move.
He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday; his tie was different, it had been black and now it was dark blue.He looked quiet and self-possessed and at his ease.His rough stiff hair was carelessly brushed as always; good-humour shone from his eyes, he smiled, his walk had the sturdy broad strength of a man who is absolutely sure of himself but is not conceited.He seemed to have no trouble in the world.
He greeted the aunts, then shook hands with Maggie.He gave her one glance and she, suddenly feeling that that glance had not the things in it that she had wanted, was frightened, her confidence left her, she felt that if she did not have a word alone with him she would die.
He sat down near Aunt Anne.
"No, thank you, I won't have any tea," he said."We're dining very early to-night because Father and Amy have a meeting right away over Golders Green way somewhere.It's really on a message from him that I came."He did not look at her, placed like a square shadow against the dusky wall.He sat, leaning forward a little, his red-brown hand on his knee, his leg bulging under the cloth of his trouser, his neck struggling behind his collar--but his smile was pleasant and easy, he seemed perfectly at home.
"My father wonders whether you will mind some friends of Miss Avies sitting with you in your pew to-morrow evening.She has especially asked--two of them...ladies, I believe.But it seems that there will be something of a crowd, and as your pew is always half empty--He would not have asked except that there seems nowhere else."Aunt Anne graciously assented.
"But, of course, Mr.Warlock, Maggie will be going with us, but still there will be room.Mr.Crashaw is going to speak after all, Ihear.I was afraid that he would have been too ill."Martin laughed."He is staying with us, you know, and already he is preparing himself.He's about the oldest human being I've ever seen.
He must be a hundred."
"He's a great saint," said Aunt Anne.