Miss Lawson let her remove her bonnet and cloak and push her with affectionate hand into an easy-chair in the inner room, close to a blazing fire. With undisguised pleasure her eyes rested on the girlish figure. It was not until Margery had gone from the village that the rectory governess realized how deeply the waif had crept into her heart.
“You are not surprised to see me?” she said, after a while, as Lady Court seated herself on a stool at her feet.
“I have been thinking of you so much and so often that you seem part of my life. You are come to stay with me, dear Miss Lawson? Yes, yes, you must stay; I shall not let you go.”
“I must return to-morrow; Mrs. Carr will expect me. I left Hurstley on purpose to see you, Margery.”
“How good of you!” exclaimed Margery, warmly, fondling the worn hand between her two soft palms. “This is just what I wanted to complete everything.”
“You are happy?” asked Miss Lawson, abruptly.
“I am content,” answered the girl, and her great blue eyes met the gray ones with a steadfast look. “And now tell me all the news. Am I quite forgotten in the village? Do none of them ask for me in Hurstley?”
“Margery, I will be candid with you. When you first went I heard very little about you, you know—I seldom go into the village—but in a very short time the news came that you had gone to Australia with Reuben and Robert Bright. The people were hard, dear, and blamed you. The Brights are heartbroken at Robert’s leaving them, and all the fault is laid at your door. They do not speak kindly of you, child, and, when I first heard them, I had great difficulty in holding my tongue. But you had begged for secrecy and silence, and I had given my word. I meant to have written to or seen you, but then came poor Lady Enid’s death, your marriage, and your illness. I could do nothing but wait. I have waited, and now, Margery, I have come here for the very purpose of asking you to take the seal from my lips, that I may explain to the village and silence slander.”
Margery had risen to her feet, her hands pressed to her bosom, her face deadly pale.
“How cruel the world is,” she murmured, bitterly, “how terribly cruel! They know nothing, yet they speak harshly. They do not know how I begged, how I entreated Robert to go back to his home. You remember how stunned I was when first I learned that he had joined Reuben?”