The Captives [107]
too hard," decided Maggie, who had habits of making up her mind at once about people.
"Well, there's no one to be frightened about here," she decided. And indeed there was not! It was as though they had all some especial reason for being nice to her. Perhaps they saw that she was not in her own world here. And yet they did not make her feel that. She drank in the differences with great gulps of appreciation, but it was not they who insisted.
Here were light and colour and space above all--rest. Nothing was about to happen, no threat over their heads that the roof would fall beneath one's feet, that the floor would sink. No sudden catching of the breath at the opening of a door, no hesitation about climbing the stairs, no surveillance by the watching Thomas, no distant clanging of the Chapel bell. How strange they all seemed, looking back from this safe harbour. The aunts, the Warlocks, Thurston, Mr. Crashaw, Caroline--all of them. There the imagination set fire to every twig--here the imagination was not needed, because everything occurred before your eyes.
She did not figure it all out in so many words at once, but the contrast of the two worlds was there nevertheless. Why had she been so anxious, so nervous, so distressed? There was no need. Had she not known that this other world existed? Perhaps she had not. She must never again forget it . . .
Katherine Mark was so kind and friendly, her voice so soft and her interest so eager, that Maggie felt that she could tell her anything. But their talk was not to come just yet--first there must be general conversation.
The clergyman with the white hair and the rosy face laughed a great deal in a schoolboy kind of way, and every time that he laughed his sister, who was like a pippin apple with her sunburnt cheeks, looked at him with protecting eyes.
"She looks after him in everything," said Maggie to herself. He was called Paul by them all.
"He's my cousin, you know, Miss Cardinal," said Mrs. Mark. "And yet I scarcely ever see him. Isn't it a shame? Grace makes everything so comfortable for him . . ."
Grace smiled, well pleased.
"It's Paul's devotion to his parish . . ." she said in calm, happy, self-assured voice, as though she'd never had a surprise in her life.
"I'm sure it isn't either of those things," thought Maggie to herself. "He's lazy."
Lazy but nice. She had never seen a clergyman so healthy, so happy so clean and so kind. She smiled across the table at him.
"Do you know Skeaton?" he asked her. Skeaton! Where had she heard of the place? Why, of course, it was Caroline!
"Only yesterday I heard of it for the first time," she said. "A friend of mine knows some one there."
"Beastly place," said Mr. Mark. "Sand always blowing into your eyes."
Mr. and Mrs. Trenchard got up to go.
He stood a moment holding Maggie's hand. "If ever you come to Skeaton, Miss Cardinal," he said, "we shall be delighted . . ." His eyes she noticed were light blue like a baby's. She felt that he liked her and would not forget her.
"Come, Paul," said Miss Trenchard, rather sharply Maggie fancied.
Soon afterwards Philip departed. "Must finish that beastly thing," he assured his wife.
"It's an article," Katherine Mark explained. "He's always writing about politics. I hate them, so he pretends to hate them too. But he doesn't really. He loves them."
"I know nothing about politics," said Maggie with profound truth. "Your husband must be very clever."
"He's better than that," said Katherine with pride; "I hate perfect people, don't you?"
"Oh, indeed I do!" said Maggie from the bottom of her heart. They then came to her particular business.
"I would like to get some work to do," said Maggie, "that would make me independent. I have three hundred pounds of my own."
"What can you do?" asked Katherine.
"I don't know," said Maggie.
"Can you shorthand and type?"
"No, I can't," said Maggie; "but I'll learn."
"Must you be independent soon?" asked Katherine. "Are you unhappy where you are?"
Maggie paused.
"Don't tell me anything
"Well, there's no one to be frightened about here," she decided. And indeed there was not! It was as though they had all some especial reason for being nice to her. Perhaps they saw that she was not in her own world here. And yet they did not make her feel that. She drank in the differences with great gulps of appreciation, but it was not they who insisted.
Here were light and colour and space above all--rest. Nothing was about to happen, no threat over their heads that the roof would fall beneath one's feet, that the floor would sink. No sudden catching of the breath at the opening of a door, no hesitation about climbing the stairs, no surveillance by the watching Thomas, no distant clanging of the Chapel bell. How strange they all seemed, looking back from this safe harbour. The aunts, the Warlocks, Thurston, Mr. Crashaw, Caroline--all of them. There the imagination set fire to every twig--here the imagination was not needed, because everything occurred before your eyes.
She did not figure it all out in so many words at once, but the contrast of the two worlds was there nevertheless. Why had she been so anxious, so nervous, so distressed? There was no need. Had she not known that this other world existed? Perhaps she had not. She must never again forget it . . .
Katherine Mark was so kind and friendly, her voice so soft and her interest so eager, that Maggie felt that she could tell her anything. But their talk was not to come just yet--first there must be general conversation.
The clergyman with the white hair and the rosy face laughed a great deal in a schoolboy kind of way, and every time that he laughed his sister, who was like a pippin apple with her sunburnt cheeks, looked at him with protecting eyes.
"She looks after him in everything," said Maggie to herself. He was called Paul by them all.
"He's my cousin, you know, Miss Cardinal," said Mrs. Mark. "And yet I scarcely ever see him. Isn't it a shame? Grace makes everything so comfortable for him . . ."
Grace smiled, well pleased.
"It's Paul's devotion to his parish . . ." she said in calm, happy, self-assured voice, as though she'd never had a surprise in her life.
"I'm sure it isn't either of those things," thought Maggie to herself. "He's lazy."
Lazy but nice. She had never seen a clergyman so healthy, so happy so clean and so kind. She smiled across the table at him.
"Do you know Skeaton?" he asked her. Skeaton! Where had she heard of the place? Why, of course, it was Caroline!
"Only yesterday I heard of it for the first time," she said. "A friend of mine knows some one there."
"Beastly place," said Mr. Mark. "Sand always blowing into your eyes."
Mr. and Mrs. Trenchard got up to go.
He stood a moment holding Maggie's hand. "If ever you come to Skeaton, Miss Cardinal," he said, "we shall be delighted . . ." His eyes she noticed were light blue like a baby's. She felt that he liked her and would not forget her.
"Come, Paul," said Miss Trenchard, rather sharply Maggie fancied.
Soon afterwards Philip departed. "Must finish that beastly thing," he assured his wife.
"It's an article," Katherine Mark explained. "He's always writing about politics. I hate them, so he pretends to hate them too. But he doesn't really. He loves them."
"I know nothing about politics," said Maggie with profound truth. "Your husband must be very clever."
"He's better than that," said Katherine with pride; "I hate perfect people, don't you?"
"Oh, indeed I do!" said Maggie from the bottom of her heart. They then came to her particular business.
"I would like to get some work to do," said Maggie, "that would make me independent. I have three hundred pounds of my own."
"What can you do?" asked Katherine.
"I don't know," said Maggie.
"Can you shorthand and type?"
"No, I can't," said Maggie; "but I'll learn."
"Must you be independent soon?" asked Katherine. "Are you unhappy where you are?"
Maggie paused.
"Don't tell me anything