"Well, what did Miss Peggy say? I insist upon your telling me."
"She said, 'Poor Aunt Caroline! How dreadful it would have been if she had died and we had never known! How I wish she would be friends with us all! She used to be so nice in Cornwall.' That's what she said, ma'am, shaking her curly head—you remember how she used to do that? It's natural she shouldn't understand how you feel towards her mother."
Miss Leighton sighed. During her late illness she had been brought face to face with death; and, for the first time, doubts of herself had assailed her, and she had seen her unforgiving spirit in its true light. Pride had always been her stumbling-block through life; and it had been her pride which had suffered when her niece, to whom in her way she had really been attached, had elected to marry the hardworking music-master who was now the organist of St. John's.
Her only reason for objecting to Mr. Pringle as her niece's husband had been because he had been poor. She had always thought so much of riches, but they had never brought her happiness; as a matter of fact, they had stood between her and her fellow creatures, they had warped her sympathies; and sadly and regretfully, the woman of great wealth admitted to herself that though she had given her money to clothe the naked and feed the poor, it had profited her nothing, for the spirit of charity had never been hers.
"I am an old woman, and no one cares for me," she thought. "The love I might have had, I deliberately put away. I should not be lonely to-day, if I had not cast Margaret aside when she married. How she wept when I said I would never willingly look on her face again, and I thought it was my money she was regretting, not me!"
Aloud she said:
"Does Mr. Maloney hold a children's service every Sunday afternoon, Barnes?"
Then, as Barnes assented, she continued: "I have heard high praises of his preaching, and I should like to hear one of his sermons. If I go to St. John's next Sunday afternoon, will you accompany me?"
"Certainly, ma'am," Barnes responded promptly, her face showing the intense amazement she felt. She regarded her mistress with anxious scrutiny, marvelling at the softened expression on her countenance. She hoped she was not going to be ill again.
"Perhaps we shall see Miss Peggy there," she proceeded; "but, if so, I expect her mother will be with her. I suppose you will not speak to them, ma'am?"