"Uncle, I want to get away--out of this--at once.No, they aren't horrid to me.Every one's been very kind.But I'm afraid of it all--of never getting out of it--and I want to be independent..." She stopped with a little breathless gasp because she heard the hall-door close."Ah, they're here! Don't tell them anything.We'll talk afterwards..."His eyes glittered with satisfaction."I knew you would, my dear.
I knew you wouldn't be able to stand it...I'll get you out of it...Trust me!"The door opened and Aunt Anne came in.She had been prepared by Martha for her visitor, and she came forward to him now with the dignity and kindly patronage of some lady abbess receiving the miscreant and boorish yokel of a neighbouring village.And yet how fine she was! As Maggie watched her, she thought of what she would give to have some of that self-command and dignity and decision.Was it her religion that gave her that? Or only her own self-satisfaction? No; there was something behind Aunt Anne, something stronger than she, something that Mr.Warlock also knew...and it was this something that Uncle Mathew met with his own hostility as he looked up now at his sister and greeted her:
"Why, Mathew! You never told us.I would have hurried back, and now Elizabeth, I'm afraid, has gone on to see some friends.She will be so disappointed.But at least you've had Maggie to entertain you."A quick glance was exchanged between uncle and niece.
"Yes," he said, "we've had a talk, Anne, thank you.And it doesn't matter about Elizabeth, because I'm staying close here in Henrietta Street, and I'll be in again if I may.I just looked in to ask whether Maggie might come and have dinner with me at my little place to-night.It's a most respectable place--I'll come and fetch her, of course, and bring her back afterwards."Of course Aunt Anne could not refuse, but oh! how Maggie saw that she wanted to! The battle that followed was silent.Uncle Mathew's eyes narrowed themselves to fiery malicious points; he dropped them and moved his feet restlessly on the soft carpet.
"Quite respectable!" he repeated.
Aunt Anne smiled gently."Why, of course, Mathew.I know you'll look after Maggie.It will be a change for her.She's been having rather a dull time here, I'm afraid."Then there was silence.Maggie wanted to speak, but the words would not come, and she had the curious sensation that even if she did find them no one would hear them.
Then Uncle Mathew suddenly said good-bye, stumbled over his boots by the door, shot out, "Seven o'clock, Maggie"--and was gone.
"Well, that will be nice for you, Maggie," said Anne, looking at her.
"Yes," said Maggie."You don't mind, do you?""No dear, of course not."
"What do you want me to do?" Maggie broke out desperately."I know I'm not satisfying you and yet you won't say anything.Do tell me--and I'll try--anything--almost anything..."Then the sudden memory of her own posted letter silenced her.Was that readiness to do "anything"? Had that not been rebellion? And had she not asked Uncle Mathew to help her to escape? The consciousness of her dishonesty coloured her cheek with crimson.
Then Aunt Anne, very tenderly, put her hand on her shoulder.
"Will you really do anything--for me, Maggie--for me?" Her voice was gentle and her eyes had tears in them."If you will--there are things very close to my heart--"Maggie turned away, trembling.She hung her head, then with a sudden movement walked to the door.
"You must tell me," she said, "what you want.I'll try--I don't understand."Then as though she was aware that she was fighting the whole room which had already almost entrapped her and that the fight was too much for her, she went.
When she came to her own room and thought about her invitation she wished, with a sudden change of mood, that she had a pretty frock or two.She would have loved to have been grand to-night, and now the best that she could do was to add her coral necklace and a little gold brooch that years ago her father had given her, to the black dress that she was already wearing.She realised, with a strange little pang of loneliness, that she had not had one evening's fun since her arrival in London--no, not one--and she would not have captured to-night had Aunt Anne been able to prevent it.
Then as her mind returned back to her uncle she felt with a throb of excited anticipation that perhaps after all this evening was to prove the turning-point of her life.Her little escape into the streets, her posting of the letter, had been followed so immediately by Uncle Mathew's visit, and now this invitation!
"No one can keep me if I want to go," and the old cuckoo-clock outside seemed to tick in reply:
"Can no one keep her if she wants to go?"She finished her preparations; as she fastened the coral necklace round her neck the face of Martin Warlock was suddenly before her.
He had been perhaps at her elbow all day.
"I like him and I think he likes me," she said to the mirror."I've got one friend," and her thought still further was that even if he didn't like her he couldn't prevent her liking him.
She went down to the drawing-room and found Uncle Mathew, alone, waiting for her.
"Here I am, Maggie," he said."And let's get out of this as quick as we can.""I must go and say good-night to the aunts," she said.
She went upstairs to Aunt Anne's bedroom.Entering it was always to her like passing into a shadowed church after the hot sunshine--the long, thin room with high slender windows, the long hard bed, of the most perfect whiteness and neatness, the heavy black-framed picture of "The Ascension" over the bed, and the utter stillness broken by no sound of clock or bell--even the fire seemed frozen into a glassy purity in the grate.
Her aunt was sitting, as so often Maggie found her, in a stiff-backed chair, her hands folded on her lap, staring in front of her.
