"A pity she won't take you; but she'll never take anybody. She's cut out for the single state," declared Constance.
"How can you say that? Was ever a finer woman seen in Sheepstor?"
"Womanhood's a matter of heart, not body, my dear. To the eye she's female, to the mind she's male--that, or neither one nor t'other. I know all about her through my daughter. Not that I don't wish with all my heart you could have her, and take her long ways off. Not a word of unkindness do I mean; but 'twould be better every way, and better for Madge if she lived somewhere else."
"Yes--I understand that," he said. "David never can be everything to Madge while he thinks such a deuce of a lot of Rhoda. They're all good friends, however."
"Good friends enough. But 'tisn't the home it might be. You don't see, and strangers don't see; but I see, because my mother's eyes can't be blinded."
"I see too--I know very well what you mean."
"If you do, then say nought," she answered; "for 'tisn't for you--nor me neither--to stand between a man and his wife. D'you know what Madge said to me last week? I grant she was down when she said it; but she's down too often now. She said, 'Life was sunshine with only a little cloud three year agone; now it's cloud with only a little sunshine, mother.' Not a very nice thing for me to hear. But it didn't astonish me. We're an unlucky race, I must tell you. Whether luck comes through the blood, or through some dark powers outside us, I don't know yet; 'tis a very real thing, and some has it from the cradle and some never gets a pinch of it. Stanburys don't."
But Crocker was thinking of Margaret Bowden.
"I'm terrible sorry to hear you tell this about her. She keeps such a stiff upper lip before the world and looks out with such cheerful eyes, that I never guessed 'twas quite as bad. Yet now you say it, I mind the signs."
"Keep out of it, however, and go away. You can't do no good if Rhoda won't have you."