John did know this, and he knew also that there was not much probability of pleasantness for some days to come. His mother's last words to him on the preceding evening, as he was leaving her after having told his story, did not give much promise of pleasantness for Margaret. "John," she had said, "nothing on earth shall induce me to live in the same house with Margaret Mackenzie as your wife. If you choose to break up everything for her sake, you can do it. I cannot control you. But remember, it will be your doing."
Margaret then asked him what she was to do, and where she was to live. She would fain have asked him when they were to be married, but she did not dare to make inquiry on that point. He told her that, for the present, she must remain at the Cedars. If she went away it would be regarded as an open quarrel, and moreover, he did not wish that she should live by herself in London lodgings. "We shall be able to see how things go for a day or two," he said. To this she submitted without a murmur, and then Lady Ball came into the room.
They were both very nervous in watching her first behaviour, but were not at all prepared for the line of conduct which she adopted. John Ball and Margaret had separated when they heard the rustle of her dress. He had made a step towards the window, and she had retreated to the other side of the fire-place. Lady Ball, on entering the room, had been nearest to Margaret, but she walked round the table away from her usual place for prayers, and accosted her son.
"Good-morning, John," she said, giving him her hand.
Margaret waited a second or two, and then addressed her aunt.
"Good-morning, aunt," she said, stepping half across the rug.
But her aunt, turning her back to her, moved into the embrasure of the window. It had been decided that there was to be an absolute cut between them! As long as she remained in that house Lady Ball would not speak to her. John said nothing, but a black frown came upon his brow. Poor Margaret retired, rebuked, to her corner by the chimney. Just at that moment the girls and children rushed in from the study, with the daily governess who came every morning, and Sir John rang for the servants to come to prayers.
I wonder whether that old lady's heart was at all softened as she prayed? whether it ever occurred to her to think that there was any meaning in that form of words she used, when she asked her God to forgive her as she might forgive others? Not that Margaret had in truth trespassed against her at all; but, doubtless, she regarded her niece as a black trespasser, and as being quite qualified for forgiveness, could she have brought herself to forgive. But I fear that the form of words on that occasion meant nothing, and that she had been delivered from no evil during those moments she had been on her knees. Margaret sat down in her accustomed place, but no notice was taken of her by her aunt. When the tea had been poured out, John got up from his seat and asked his mother which was Margaret's cup.
"My dear," said she, "if you will sit down, Miss Mackenzie shall have her tea."
"I will take it to her," said he.