“I don’t tell you this for selfishness, nor yet because you’d leave a house of mourners and break a lot of young, innocent hearts, if you was to go. I tell you this, because I do believe your high nature wouldn’t brook another man, or return into the wedded state with comfort after all these widowed years of freedom. I can’t see you happy so; and I can’t see any nice man wishing to take you out of this house.”
Lydia rose to retire.
“As to that, Polly, it’s all the point of view. Nobody can fairly quarrel with the man. He’s all right.”
“I’m sure I hope you don’t think of it all the same, after hearing my wife, Lydia,” murmured Tom, now subdued.
“I must think of it. I owe it to him. I’m sorry you can’t trust a woman of my age to behave sensibly; but I dare say that’s natural. Only be sure I’ve no wish to give either of you a pang. You know what I think of you and the children, and how happy I’ve been to see them come into the world so full of promise and hope. And if you look back, Polly, you’ll see I’ve always tried to be on the side of discipline and sense, and never lost a chance to strengthen your hand and win all proper obedience for you and Tom.”
“We know all that,” answered her brother. “You mustn’t think because I’m a man of slow speech that my heart’s slow likewise. Far from it. I like for everything to go smooth and peaceful; I hate change; and if changes are coming, all I can say is I haven’t deserved ’em and more’s my poor wife.”
“Good night, Lydia. God bless you,” said Mary, mopping her eyes. Then Mrs. Trivett left them and retired to the peace of her own sanctum. It was true that Jenny at present shared this ark, but Jenny had at last gone to sleep and Lydia meditated without interruption about her future.
She came to a preliminary conclusion that, for once, duty was not directly involved. It seemed at a first glance that her own inclination might reasonably be considered, and that no choice between right and wrong awaited her. To marry was a very reasonable step, whatever Mary might say, for she was not old, and Mr. Knox could be trusted to make a worthy spouse and treat her with all due respect and consideration. She liked him and felt it quite possible to share his life and devote herself to his comfort and welfare. But to refuse him would be no more difficult than to accept him. Her present life, that looked so grey seen from the outside, was agreeable enough to her. She loved work and she loved children, especially her brother’s children. She had been largely responsible for their up-bringing and they owed much to her. Moreover they loved her quite as much as their mother. Indeed she was the sun to their mother’s moon, and she very well knew what a disaster her departure must be in the eyes of Milly and Bobby, Jenny and Clara.
Nor could she well see her own life separated from theirs. She had not decided when she went to sleep, but there was little doubt in her subconscious mind as to how she would decide. Mary’s attitude had also influenced her. The real terror in Mary’s eyes, when the threat of departure broke upon her, Lydia could not easily forget. She dwelt on these things and did not allow her sister-in-law’s craft, or her brother’s anger and selfishness to influence her.
As for Mr. and Mrs. Dolbear, they lay awake till dawn, racking their brains to devise means by which Lydia might be preserved alive to them.