‘I’ve been thinking about Madlin, Luke, and I’ve decided to send her away too.’
‘What! part wi’ Madlin?’ cried Luke, aghast, and for a moment it seemed to him that Mrs. Peartree was growing very hard-hearted, but when he looked up he saw that her eyes were dim with tears.
‘Ay, mate, part wi’ our Madlin,’ she said, sorrowfully. ‘It a’most broke my heart when I thought on’t first, but I’m past that now. ’Twill be for the child’s good too. If she stopped wi’ us, she’d get but a poor bringing-up at best, bless her; but if she goes to him he’ll make a lady on her.’
‘Him, mother?’
‘Mr. White, that first brought her to us, and pays to this day for her keep. He’s not her father, nor yet much kin of hers at all; but for all that he’s a good gentleman, and will do his duty by her. We’ll try him, anyways. If he takes her it will be a sore day for me, but a lucky chance for little Madlin.’
Uncle Luke listened quietly, and soon endorsed Aunt Jane’s opinion, that the very best they could do for Madeline was to take her up to London and hand her over to the care of her natural guardian—the benevolent-looking gentleman who left her at the cottage when an infant, and had contributed to her maintenance ever since.
‘Don’t let her know nothing about it, Luke,’ added Mrs. Peartree, ‘or Lord only knows what she would do. After she’s growed up, bless her, she’d thank us for doin’ it, even if we could help it, which we can’t.’
This piece of logic pleased Uncle Luke unmeasurably, and he went to bed tolerably contented with Aunt Jane’s mode of working, and quite convinced that she was doing everything for the best.
The succeeding days were very sad ones in the cottage, and though Madeline was almost overwhelmed with her grief for Uncle Mark, she could not help wandering at the strange conduct of those whom he had left behind. If she happened to come within arm’s length of Aunt Jane she was certain to be caught up and kissed; if Uncle Luke’s eye fell upon her, he burst into tears; at meal times she had three times too much food crammed upon her plate; if she approached the fire, her chair was drawn so close as to almost scorch her. But the crowning point came when she was told one morning that she was to go to London, for a day’s ‘outing’ with Uncle Luke.
It was decided that Luke should take her. ‘He had seen a good deal of the city,’ Mrs. Peartree said, ‘and would do the errand better than she.’ Luke was quite contented, so it was settled forthwith.