"It is so delicious to see mother living in ease and comfort at last," Marion went on. "Of course she's sad still, and sometimes I think grudges herself the little luxuries she can have, because of the thought of my father and of all that he had to be denied. But she is taking increasing interest in the children, and she loves helping the poor in the village and continuing Aunt Caroline's village charities. I often thank God that you were led to live with my aunt. If you had not gone, how different things would have been with us I don't believe she would have left any money to mother at all, because she was so angry that she refused to be helped for so many years."
"I think it was rather quixotic of her," said Rowena.
"Perhaps it was; but she felt my aunt's marriage was everything that was sinful, and she would have nothing to do with it. I think she and my father were rather too strict in their judgments. You lived with her, and loved her, before she changed her life so."
"Yes," said Rowena thoughtfully. "I do not regret it, though, perhaps, I would not advise others to do the same. The life we lived was very deadening to the soul. I do not know what it was, but the very first day I saw your aunt, there was something peculiarly childish and appealing in her face. I felt she was one who wanted a real friend. And then I soon discovered that underneath all her gaiety and love of fun she was really an unhappy woman. I determined to help her if I could; and that determination helped me in many a bad time when I felt inclined to run away and leave it all."
"You were wonderful!" exclaimed Marion.
"Not at all. I undertook a job, and I stuck to it, just as you are sticking to your job now."
The conversation ended, and Marion took up the lessons happily. She was, as she said, only too happy in the present life to wish to change it, and Mysie adored her.
[CHAPTER IV]
WINTER IN THE GLEN
Oh Winter ruler of the inverted year ...
... Thou hold'st the sun
A prisoner in the yet undawning East,
Short'ning his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him impatient of his stay
Down to the rosy West; but kindly still
Compensating his loss with added hours
Of social converse and instructive ease,
And gathering at short notice in one group
The family dispersed, and fixing thought
Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares.
Cowper.