Marcella, looked gravely down upon her.
"If you come into the garden I will tell you. Madeleine told me."
Betty, all curiosity, followed her friend through the open window to a seat in the Dutch garden outside.
"It was a terrible thing that happened," said Marcella, sitting erect, and speaking with a manner of suppressed energy that Betty knew well; "one of the things that make my blood boil when I come here. You know how she rules the village?"—She turned imperceptibly towards the distant drawing-room, where Mrs. Allison's white head was still visible. "Not only must all the cottages be beautiful, but all the people must reach a certain standard of virtue. If a man drinks, he must go; if a girl loses her character, she and her child must go. It was such a girl that threw herself in the way of the party this morning. Her mother would not part with her; so the decree went forth—the whole family must go. They say the girl has never been right in her head since the baby's birth; she raved and wept this morning, said her parents could find no work elsewhere—they must die, she and her child must die. Mrs. Allison tried to stop her, but couldn't; then she hurriedly sent the others on, and stayed behind herself—only for a minute or two; she overtook Madeleine almost immediately. Madeleine is sure she was inexorable; so am I; she always is. I once argued with her about a case of the kind—a cruel case! 'Those are the sins that make me shudder!' she said, and one could make no impression on her whatever. You see how exhausted she looks this afternoon. She will wear herself out, probably, praying and weeping over the girl."
Betty threw up her hands.
"My dear!—when she knows—"
"It may perfectly well kill her," said Marcella, steadily. Then, after a pause, Betty saw her face flush from brow to chin, and she added, in a low and passionate voice: "Nevertheless, from all tyrannies and cruelties in the name of Christ, good Lord, deliver us!"
The two lingered together for some time without speaking. Both were thinking of much the same things, but both were tired with the endless talking of a country-house Sunday, and the rest was welcome.
And presently Marcella rambled away from her friend, and spent an hour pacing by herself in a glade beside the river.
And there her mind instantly shook itself from every care but one—the yearning over her husband and his work.