“Was not her husband good to her, then?”
“I am sure he meant to be kind,” returned Miss Mewlstone, sorrowfully, “for he loved her dearly; but he was passionate and masterful, and was one that would have his way. As long as it was only courtship, he worshipped the ground she walked upon, as the saying is. But poor Magdalene was not a good wife. She was cold when she ought to have been caressing, stubborn when she might have yielded; and sarcasm never yet healed a wound. Ah, here comes your coffee! Thank you, Evans. Now, my dear, you must just eat and drink, and put some color into those pale cheeks. Scenes like these are not good for young creatures like you. But when Magdalene is in these moods, she would not care if the whole world listened to her. To-morrow she will be herself, and remember and be ashamed; and then you must not mind if she be harder and colder than ever. She will say bitter things all the more, because she is angered at her own want of self-control.”
“I can understand that: that is just as I should feel,” returned Phillis, shuddering a little at the idea of encountering Mrs. Cheyne’s keen-edged sarcasms. “She will not like to see me any more; she will think I had no right to witness such a scene.” 206
“It is certainly a pity that I wrote that note,” returned Mrs. Mewlstone, reflectively. “I hoped that you would turn her thoughts, and that we might avert the usual nervous paroxysm. When I opened the door and saw you sitting together so peacefully beside the children’s beds, I expected a milder mood; but it was the thunder. Poor Magdalene! She has never been able to control herself in a storm since the evening Herbert left her, and we went in and found her lying insensible in the library, in the midst of one of the worst storms I have ever witnessed.”
“That was when he said those cruel words to her!” ejaculated Phillis.
“Yes. Did she repeat them? How often I have begged her to forget them, and to believe that he repented of them before an hour was over! Ah, well! the sting of death lies in this: if she had had one word, one little word, she would be a different woman, in spite of the children’s death. God’s strokes are less cruel than men’s strokes: the reed may be bruised by them, but is not broken. She had a long illness after the children were gone; it was too much,—too much for any woman’s heart to bear. You see, she wanted her husband to comfort her. Dr. Parkes feared for her brain, but we pulled her through. Ah, just so, my dear; we pulled her through!” finished Miss Mewlstone, with a sigh.
“Oh, how good you are to her! she is happy to have such a friend!” observed Phillis, enthusiastically.
Miss Mewlstone shook her head, and a tear rolled down her face.
“Oh, my dear, I am only an old fool, as she said just now. And, after all, the company of a stupid old woman is not much to a proud bonnie creature like that. Sometimes for days together she hardly opens her lips to me; we sit together, eat together, drive together, and not a word for Barby. But sometimes, poor dear! she will cling to me and cry, and say her heart is breaking. And Solomon was right: but it was not only a brother that is good for adversity. When she wants me, I am here, and there is nothing I will not do for her, and she knows it;—and that is about the long and short of it,” finished Miss Mewlstone, dismissing the subject with another sigh. And then she bade Phillis finish her coffee and put on her hat. “For your mother will be expecting you, and wondering what has become of you; and Phillips or Evans must walk with you, for it is past nine o’clock, and such a pretty young lady must not go unattended,” concluded the simple woman.
Phillis laughed and kissed her at this; but, though she said nothing of her intentions, she determined to dismiss the servant as soon as possible, and run on alone to the Friary. She had not forgotten her encounter with Mr. Drummond on her last visit to the White House; but to-night the storm would keep him in-doors. 207