DEATH OF AUNT ANNE
Maggie, after that flight, faced her empty room with a sense of horror.Was there, truly, then, something awful about her? The child (for she was indeed nothing more) looked into her glass, standing on tip-toe that she might peer sufficiently and saw her face, pale, with its large dark eyes rimmed by the close-clipped hair.Was she then awful? First her father, then her aunts, then the Warlocks, now Grace and Paul--not only dislike but fright, terror, alarm!
Her loneliness crushed her in that half-hour as it had never crushed her since that day at Borhedden.She broke down altogether, kneeling by the bed and her head in her pillow sobbing: "Oh, Martin, I want you! Martin, I want you so!"When she was calmer she thought of going down to Paul and ****** another appeal to him, but she knew that such an appeal could only end in his asking her to change herself, begging her to be more polite to Grace, more careful and less forgetful, and of course to give up such people as the Toms and Caroline, and then there would come, after it all, the question as to whether she intended to behave better to himself, whether she would be more loving, more...Oh no! she could not, she could not, she could not!
She saw the impossibility of it so plainly that it was a relief to her and she washed her face and brushed her hair and plucked up courage to regard herself normally once more."I'm not different,"she said to the looking-glass."There's no reason for Grace to make faces." She saw that the breach between herself and Grace had become irreparable, and that whatever else happened in the future at least it was certain that they would never be friends again.
She went downstairs prepared to do battle...
Next morning she paid her visit to Caroline.It was a strange affair.The girl was sitting alone in her over-gorgeous house, her hands on her lap, looking out of the window, an unusual position for her to be in.
Caroline was at first very stiff and haughty, expecting that Maggie had come to scold her."I just looked in to sec how you were," said Maggie.
"You might have come before," answered Caroline."It's years since you've been near me.""I didn't like all those people you had in your house," said Maggie.
"I like it better now there's no one in it."That was not, perhaps, very tactful of her.Caroline flushed.
"I could have them all here now if I wanted to ask them," she answered angrily.
"Well, I'm very glad you'd rather be without them," said Maggie.
"They weren't worthy of you, Caroline."
"Oh! What's the use going on talking like this!" Caroline broke out.
"Of course you've heard all about everything.Every one has.I can't put my nose outside the door without them all peering at me.I hate them all--all of them--and the place too, and every one in it.""I expect you do--" said Maggie sympathetically.
"Nasty cats! As though they'd never done anything wrong all their days.It was mostly Alfred's fault too.What does he expect when he leaves me all alone here week after week eating one's heart out.One must do something with one's time.Just like all men! At first there's nothing too good for you, then when they get used to it they can't be bothered about anything.I wonder what a man thinks married life is? Then to listen to Alfred, you'd think we were still living in the days of the Good Queen Victoria--you would indeed.Wouldn't let me go up to London alone! There's a nice thing for you.And all because he did let me go once and I meant to stay with mother and mother was away.So I had to sleep at a hotel.Why shouldn't I sleep at a hotel! I'm not a baby.And now he keeps me here like a prisoner.Just as though I were in jail.""Is he unkind to you?" asked Maggie.
"No, he isn't.It's his horrible kindness I can't stand.He won't divorce me, he won't let me go away, he just keeps me here and is so kind and patient that I could kill him.I shall one day.I know Ishall." She stood for a moment, pouting and looking out of the window.Then suddenly she turned and, flinging her arms around Maggie, burst into tears.
"Oh, Maggie! I'm so miserable...I'm so miserable, Maggie! Why did I ever come here? Why did I ever marry? I was so happy at home with mother."Maggie comforted her, persuading her that all would soon be well, that people very quickly forgot their little pieces of scandal, and that so long as she did not run away or do anything really desperate all would come right.Maggie discovered that Caroline had escaped from her crisis with an increased respect and even affection for her husband.She was afraid of him, and was the sort of woman who must be afraid of her husband before her married life can settle into any kind of security.
"And I thought you'd altogether abandoned me!" she ended.
"I wasn't coming while all those people were about," said Maggie.
"You darling!" cried Caroline, kissing her."Just the same as you used to be.I was angry I can tell you when month after month went by and you never came near me.I used to tell people when they asked me that you were odd.'She's not a bit like other people,' I would say; 'not a bit and it's no use expecting her to be.She's always been queer.I used to know her in London.' They do think you odd here, darling.They do indeed.No one understands you.So odd for a clergyman's wife.Well, so you are, aren't you? I always tell them you had no bringing up."Caroline in fact very quickly recovered her flow.As soon as she found that Maggie was not shocked she reasserted her old superiority.Before the visit was over she had rather despised Maggie for not being shocked.At Maggie's departure, however, she was very loving.
"You will come soon again, darling, won't you? It's no use asking you to dinner because, of course, your husband won't come.But look in any afternoon--or we might go for a drive in the motor.Good-bye--good-bye."
