“P. S.—Above all things say nothing to your mother.
“J. T.”
CHAPTER XLIV.
MAY’S NEW HOME.
One evening nearly a fortnight after Mrs. Temple had received the letter from John Temple announcing his marriage to May, the windows of Woodlea Hall were all alight in expectation of their return.
Mrs. Temple had been in a state of great, though suppressed, excitement all day. The rooms were bright with flowers, and by her orders the whole place was arranged to appear to the best advantage. As for Mrs. Temple herself she wore an evening dress of black velvet, having discarded her deep mourning in honor of the occasion.
Yet she was feeling far from happy. This girl, this stranger, who was coming to take her place, she thought, she naturally regarded with hidden though deep resentment. John Temple could not have acted otherwise, she told herself, but this did not lessen the bitterness of her heart.
And when at last the carriage which contained John Temple and his young wife drove up to the entrance of the Hall, Mrs. Temple went forward, pale, handsome, and agitated, to receive them. She clasped John’s hand first, who warmly shook hers, and then—as though half-unwillingly—she looked at the fair girlish face by his side.
“This is May,” said John Temple, in kindly tones. “May, my dear, this is Mrs. Temple, my poor uncle’s widow.”
The two women shook hands after this, and exchanged a few remarks on the journey and the weather. May felt embarrassed and slightly overawed by this handsome woman who looked at her so coldly. It was not like going to her own home, somehow, she felt. John indeed referred to Mrs. Temple about everything, and showed his uncle’s widow the greatest consideration and respect.