"I will do better than that: I will take you home with me."
"Oh, no!" said Marion, shrinking a little; "that can not be. It is like you, dear Helen, to propose it; but I do not think my aunt would like—stop! I know she would be kind, and try not to show what she felt; but I should be aware of it—aware that she has no respect for me in her heart, and I should be more ill at ease there than here. This is my home for the present; it may not be so long, and I may never have another. So let me keep it while I may. Find me some good, quiet woman—you know everyone in Scarborough—to stay with me; and come yourself whenever you can, and I shall be content."
"There will be no difficulty in finding such a person as you want," said Helen. "But I think my plan is best."
Marion shook her head. "No," she insisted. "I abused your hospitality once. I can never forget that; and I do not think that, kind and good as she is, my aunt will ever forget it; so do not let us talk of my going to you. Some day, perhaps, if I have no other refuge in the world, I may come and ask you for a shelter, but not now."
She was immovable in this, even when Mrs. Dalton seconded Helen's invitation; and so they did what she asked—found a pleasant, quiet, elderly lady to stay with her; and let her have her own way.
It was a strange time, the period of waiting which followed—a kind of interlude, a breathing space, as it were, between the rush of events which had reached this conclusion, and other events which were to follow and change life yet again, in what degree no one could say. It seemed to Marion that she could hardly be said to live during these weeks. She merely existed—in a state partly of expectation, partly of that lassitude which follows a high degree of mental as well as physical tension. She had passed rapidly through many experiences, many intense emotions; and now, menaced by others of which she could not see the end, she suddenly sank down to rest, like a soldier on the field of battle.
She had but two sources of pleasure during this time: one was Helen's companionship, which she had never before valued or appreciated; the other, the services of the Catholic church. The plain little chapel, which had at first repelled her, began to seem to her like a true home of the soul; religious influences sank more and more deeply into her heart; and dimly, as new ideas shape and present themselves, there began to dawn on her the meaning of Helen's simple words. "It certainly would not be happiness if it did not have God's blessing on it," Helen had said. Was it because no blessing of God had been on her happiness that, in every form, it had so quickly eluded her grasp? She asked herself this question, and when a soul has once asked it the answer is not long in coming. But whether or not it will be heeded when it comes, is too often a matter of doubt. Impressions pass quickly, the sway of the world is hard to break, and who can tell how far the poor soul may be swept into storm and darkness before it is brought safe into port at last?
CHAPTER XXIV.
The period of waiting ended very abruptly one day. It was by this time soft, Indian-summer weather; and Marion was seated in the garden with Helen one afternoon, mellow sunshine and brilliant masses of flowers all around them, when a servant appeared with the intelligence that Mr. Singleton was in the house and wished to see her.