"He should have been shut up somewhere," she said."It's disgraceful letting him walk about everywhere just like any one else.""Shut up!" cried Maggie."Oh, no! I don't think any one ought to be shut up for anything.""My dear Maggie!" said Paul in his fatherly protecting voice."No prisons? Think what would become of us all.""Oh!" said Maggie impatiently, "I'm not practical of course, I don't know what one should do, but I do know that no one should be shut up.""Chut-chut--" said Grace.
Now this "Chut, chut," may seem a very little thing, but very little things are sometimes of great importance.Marriages have been wrecked on an irritating cough and happy homes ruined by a shuffle.
Grace had said "Chut, chut," for a great many years and to many people.It expressed scorn and contempt and implied a vast store of superior knowledge.Grace herself had no idea of the irritating nature of this exclamation, she would have been entirely amazed did you explain to her that it had more to do with her unpopularity in Skeaton than any other thing.She had even said "Chut, chut," to Mrs.Constantine.
But she said it to Maggie more than to any other person.When she had been in the house a few days she said to her brother:
"Paul, Maggie's much younger than I had supposed.""Oh, do you think so?" said Paul.
"Yes, I do.She knows nothing about anything.She's been nowhere.
She's seen nobody...Poor child."
It was the "poor child" position that she now, during these first weeks, adopted.She was very, very kind to Maggie.As she explained to Mrs.Maxse, she really was very fond of her--she was a GOOD girl.
At the same time...Well!...Mrs.Maxse would understand that Paul can hardly have known what he was marrying.Ignorance!
Carelessness! Strange ideas! Some one from the centre of Africa would have known more...and so on.Nevertheless, she was a GOODgirl...Only she needed guidance.Fancy, she had taken quite a fancy to poor Mr.Toms! Proposed to call on his sister.Well, one couldn't help that.Miss Toms was a regular communicant...
Nevertheless...she didn't realise, that was it.Of course, she had known all kinds of queer people in London.Paul and Grace had rescued her.The strangest people.No, Maggie was an orphan.She had an uncle, Grace believed, and two aunts who belonged to a strange sect.Sex? No, sect.Very queer altogether.
Mrs.Maxse went home greatly impressed.
"The girl's undoubtedly queer," she told her husband.
"The parson's got a queer sort of wife," Colonel Maxse told his friends in the Skeaton Conservative Club."He rescued her from some odd sort of life in London.No.Don't know what it was exactly.
Always was a bit soft, Trenchard."
Maggie had no idea that Skeaton was discussing her.She judged other people by herself.Meanwhile something occurred that gave her quite enough to think about.
She had understood from Grace that it was expected of her that she should be at home on one afternoon in the week to receive callers.
She thought it a silly thing that she should sit in the ugly drawing-room waiting for people whom she did not wish to see and who did not wish to see her, but she was told that it was one of her duties, and so she would do it.No one, however, had any idea of the terror with which she anticipated these Friday afternoons.She had never been a very great talker, she had nothing much to say unless to some one in whom she was interested.She was frightened lest something should happen to the tea, and she felt that they were all staring at her and asking themselves why her hair was cut short and why her clothes didn't fit better.However, there it was.It was her duty.
One Friday afternoon she was sitting alone, waiting.The door opened and the maid announced Mrs.Purdie.Maggie remembered that she had been told that Mr.Alfred Purdie was the richest man in Skeaton, that he had recently married, and was but now returned from his honeymoon.
Mrs.Purdie entered and revealed herself as Caroline Smith.For a moment, as Maggie looked upon that magnificent figure, the room turned about her and her eyes were dim.She remembered, as though some one were reminding her from a long way off, that Caroline had once told her that she was considering the acceptance of a rich young man in Skeaton.
She remembered that at the time she had thought the coincidence of Caroline and Paul Trenchard strange.But far stronger than any such memory was the renewed conviction that she had that fate did not intend to leave her alone.She was not to keep the two worlds apart, she was not to be allowed to forget.
The sight of Caroline brought Martin before her so vividly that she could have cried out.Instead she stood there, quietly waiting, and showed no sign of any embarrassment.
Caroline was dressed in peach-coloured silk and a little black hat.
She was not confused in the least.She seized Maggie's hand and shook it, talking all the time.
