Margaret felt at that moment that her affection for her mother was being swallowed up by a sickening sensation of disgust. She had always loved her very dearly; and had been so pleased and happy when people had admired her for her beauty and winning ways. Even when Mrs. Fowler had openly shown her preference for Gerald of her two children, the little girl, though often hurt, had never evinced any jealousy or resentment. She had accepted the fact that Gerald was her mother's favourite, and had loved her none the less on that account. But now, her love was being tried very severely.
The remembrance of Mrs. Fowler as she had last seen her, lying on the bed with flushed cheeks, breathing stertorously, was absolutely revolting to her. She had many times asked herself how Salome could continue to love her drunken father; now, she asked herself, was it possible that she could continue to love her drunken mother? Oh, the horror of the thought that one so gentle and refined should be on a par with Josiah Petherick, fellow-victim to a disgraceful, degrading sin!
Perhaps Miss Conway guessed some of the thoughts which were passing through her companion's mind, for she watched her anxiously, and presently remarked, "I daresay, you can faintly imagine how your poor mother is feeling now. She had hoped to keep the secret of her weakness and sin from your knowledge. Your father, too, will be terribly troubled when he hears you have learnt the truth; but I do not doubt, dear child, that God in His wisdom has ordered all for the best. You will understand now, as you never did before, how much Mrs. Fowler needs all your love and devotion. You can help her, if you will, to the restoration of that self-respect which, once lost, is so hard to regain. You can show her, by loving her as unfalteringly as Salome loves her erring father, that she can rise above this habit which has done so much to ruin her health, and happiness, and earn everyone's respect and her own as well!"
Miss Conway paused, and there was a solemn silence which Margaret at length broke by saying with a sob, "I do love mother, I do indeed."
"I am sure of it. Mrs. Fowler is a very sweet, lovable woman!"
"Yes," Margaret agreed. "See what a lot of friends she had in town, and how popular she was! She was always going about—"
"Yes, dear, I know," the governess interposed, "and that was how it was she commenced taking stimulants. She used to get tired with her constant gaieties, and then she would take a glass of wine, or some other intoxicant, to revive her, until she grew to like stimulants, and took more and more. The craving increased, and she drank to the injury of her health, yet no outsiders guessed it. Then she had nervous attacks, followed at last by a serious illness. The doctors told your father she was killing herself, and immeasurably horrified, he took the only course he saw could save his wife—became a teetotaler himself, and insisted that his household should follow suit. Mrs. Fowler knew he was acting wisely, and for her sake, but she would not admit it. However, she found total abstinence from all intoxicants was restoring her to health, and had made up her mind never to touch a stimulant again when temptation was put in her way, and she fell. God grant she may prove stronger in the future. Now, my dear, tell me, have you had any supper?"
"No," Margaret replied, "I am not in the least hungry."
"Oh, that's nonsense! You must eat whether you are hungry or not. Come with me."
Margaret demurred at first, but her governess overruled all her objections. And after she had bathed her tear-stained face, the two went downstairs and had supper together. Miss Conway did not leave her pupil again until she saw her comfortably tucked up in bed for the night; then she kissed her, bade her try to sleep well, and left her to herself.