And for her, if the man had only been a husband to her, nothing on earth would have shaken her resolution, or weakened her will power. But that he was not, and her state of widowhood proved exceedingly painful to one of Medora’s sanguine temperament, though this was the last thing in her heart she could confess to Kellock. She panted in fact for a lover sometimes; yet the consciousness that Jordan never panted for anything of the sort made it impossible to hint at such a human weakness.
She found the line of least resistance was humble surrender to Kellock’s high qualities. She abased her spirit at thought of his sacrifice and really saw aright in the question of his love for her. About that she could not make any mistake, for she had a mind quick enough in sundry particulars and sufficiently realised that she had won a man who would never fail her—a tower of strength—even though the tower threw rather a heavy shadow. Her own nature was subdued to what it had to work in; she wandered far from herself under these excitations. She was, indeed, so little herself that she did not want to be herself any more. But that ambition could not last. She felt herself moving sometimes—the love of laughter and pleasure, the need for stimulus, the cry for something to anticipate with joy. There was no room for these delights, at any rate at present, in the purview of Kellock. He continued solemn and staid, patient and wise, sometimes quite inscrutable. He was magnificent, but not life—as Medora saw life. Living with Jordan almost suggested living in church; and church never had been Medora’s life, but rather an occasional interlude, depending for its charm on the clothes she was wearing at the time. She became a good deal depressed at this season and wept many secret tears.
Then a little relaxation offered of the mildest. Mrs. Trivett was able to report that Mary Dolbear and her husband had forgiven Medora, and she and Kellock were invited to tea at Priory Farm.
He agreed to go and assured her that here promised the beginning of better times.
“The people are coming to see the light of truth,” he said. “You can always count on the natural good feeling of your fellow creatures, Medora, if you’ll only be patient with them and give them time.”
They arrived upon a Sunday afternoon in Spring and Jordan improved the occasion as they walked through the green lanes.
“The Spring teaches us that nothing is an end to itself, but everything a beginning to something else,” he said. “You realise that more in the Spring than the Summer, or Winter, and yet it’s just as true all the year round.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Medora.
“And so with our present situation. It’s not complete in itself.”
“Good Lord, no; I hope not.”