Gerald came into the room with his hat on his head, but meeting his father's eyes, removed it instantly. After he had shaken hands with the Vicar, his mother called him to her, pushed back his fair locks from his forehead, and made him sit by her side on the sofa whilst she plied him with sweet cakes. He was her darling, and she indulged him to his bent. When the governess entered the room, having removed her hat and gloves, there were no sweet cakes left. Mr. Fowler rang the bell for more, and upon the parlour-maid bringing a fresh supply, declined to allow Gerald to partake of them, at which the spoilt boy pouted and sulked, and his mother threw reproachful glances at her husband.
Mr. Amyatt watched the scene in silence, wondering how anyone could allow affection to overcome judgment, as Mrs. Fowler had evidently done, as far as her little son was concerned, and marvelling that Mr. Fowler did not order the disagreeable child out of the room. When the Vicar rose to go, his host accompanied him as far as the garden gate, and they stood there talking some while before, at last, the Vicar said good-bye, and started down the hill towards the village.
The Fowlers had now been several weeks in residence at Greystone, but, up to the present, Mr. Amyatt had been their only visitor. Mrs. Fowler had not been outside the grounds surrounding the house yet, but talked of going down to the beach the first day she felt strong enough to attempt the walk. The children, however, had made several acquaintances among the fisher-folk, and a great liking had sprung up between Margaret and Salome Petherick, for, though one was a rich man's daughter and the other only a poor fisherman's child, they found they had much in common, and, wide apart though they were to outward appearances, they bade fair to become real friends.
[CHAPTER IV.]
"Abide with Me."
THE Fowlers had been six weeks at Greystone, when, one evening towards the end of July, Mrs. Fowler, who was daily improving in health, accompanied Margaret and Miss Conway to the church, and wandered about the ancient building, reading the inscriptions on the monuments, whilst her little daughter had her music lesson. By-and-by she strolled into the graveyard, and, seating herself on the low wall which surrounded it, gazed far out over the blue expanse of ocean, which was dotted with fishing boats and larger crafts, on this calm summer evening.
The churchyard at Yelton was beautifully situated, commanding a view of the whole village straggling nearly down to the beach, whilst on the eminence beyond the church was Greystone, against a background of green foliage.
"Everything is very lovely," Mrs. Fowler said to herself, "and the air is certainly most invigorating. I feel almost well to-night. Who comes here? Why, this must be Salome Petherick!"
It was the lame girl who had entered the churchyard, and was now approaching the spot where Mrs. Fowler sat. She paused at the sight of the figure on the wall, and a look of admiration stole into her soft, brown eyes. She had never seen such a pretty lady before, or anyone so daintily and becomingly dressed.
Mrs. Fowler, who had shrunk with the nervous unreasonableness of a sick person from being brought into contact with the cripple girl, now that she was actually face to face with her, was interested and sympathetic at once. She smiled at Salome and addressed her cordially.