“Dear father, of course I came,” said May, gently.
“And madam? She is still there, I hear; but remember, May, you’re mistress now, so don’t be put upon by any of them.”
“Oh! she is very kind.”
“Kind! I should think so; why should she not be kind? But you’re the squire’s wife, you know, now, May, and you must show her that you quite understand this. And how is your husband?”
“He is looking much better again; he has gone out for a ride with Mrs. Temple this morning.”
“Humph! Well, you should ride with him yourself, May. No one has a smarter seat on horseback than you, and I’d let them all see this.”
And during the rest of May’s visit Mr. Churchill constantly harped on this point. She was to assert herself, but May knew that, even had she wished to do so, she would have found it very difficult.
For the night before, when they were alone, John Temple had spoken to his wife on the subject of Mrs. Temple’s position in the house.
“You see, May,” he had said, “I came here and became heir of this property under very peculiar circumstances. I stepped into the place of Mrs. Temple’s only child, and therefore I feel that to disturb her in any way as mistress of the house, where she would have remained mistress had her boy lived, would be at once ungentlemanly and ungrateful of me. This is why I took her to the head of the table to-night, and I am sure you have the good taste and the good feeling to understand my wishes on the subject.”
“Then is she going to live here always?” May ventured to ask.