It was well for Margaretta that there was one who sympathised with her on the subject which lay nearest to her heart, and which she dared not even mention in the presence of Lady Longridge. This was her separation from her mother. Mrs. Norland, who from the moment of her marriage disclaimed all wish to reserve the title by which she might still have been addressed had she chosen, liked her mother-in-law as little as she did after that first meeting at Northbrook. She had twice visited her daughter, but not at the Hall, having declared, when she left it just after her widowhood, that the same roof should never again cover Lady Longridge and herself.
Next Margaretta heard of the birth of a baby brother, whose coming prevented a third visit to which she was looking forward. It was a terrible disappointment, for Margaretta hoped that her mother and her beloved Mrs. Moffat would also meet, and that this would create a new bond between them. But this was not to be, and though Mrs. Moffat had been the tenant of Clough Cottage for five years past, she and Sir Philip's wife had only seen each other at church.
It has been said that Sir Philip seldom remained long at Northbrook, and Mrs. Moffat having no home ties, was often absent during the short time that they were nominal neighbours before his death. Now Mrs. Moffat's affection for Margaretta kept her much more at the Cottage. When she left it for a few weeks she would fain have taken the girl with her. But to this Lady Longridge would never consent, though she would have had nothing to pay for her granddaughter.
"Where I stay, Margaretta, remains also. I cannot go elsewhere, so she must content herself at Northbrook. I will never part with her whilst I live. If I die before she is of age, that will be another matter, though I do not think I shall. My head is clear, my memory good—oh yes, very good; too good sometimes, is it not, Thorley?" Appealing to her inseparable attendant, and looking so wickedly knowing and wide-awake to everything, that Mrs. Moffat felt that there was every prospect of her expectations being fulfilled.
It was of no use to ask, so Mrs. Moffat sorrowfully left her favourite behind, and returned the sooner for her sake.
A few weeks after that disappointment with regard to her mother's visit, Margaretta received the most loving of letters from her, together with a fresh consignment of pretty things for her wardrobe, and unmade materials.
"My dear child," she wrote, "I am extremely grieved to think that I shall have to leave England without seeing you, and I cannot quite say when I shall return. I have been less strong since little Hugh was born, and the doctors say that it will be necessary for me to winter in a warmer climate. I long to see you and kiss your dear face, my precious girl, but it is useless to ask Lady Longridge for you to visit me, and I cannot bear an extra three hundred miles of travelling to and from Northbrook, when the saving of every mile is important. So I can only pray, 'May God bless and keep you, and grant us a happy meeting on my return!'"
"Baby is very like you, and I am so glad of it, for in his, I seem to see your baby face again, and I give him double caresses on that account—one set for you. When I was lying very ill, I thought of Lady Longridge, and I wished we had been better friends. If you have an opportunity tell your grandmother this. I would send her a kinder message, but I am afraid she would misconstrue my motives. When a time of weakness comes, and the end of an illness is doubtful, the little jealousies and quarrels of the past seem so contemptible, and there is so much that one would like to undo if possible."
There was much more in the letter that need not be quoted, and with it came a supply of foreign stamps, notepaper, and various articles of everyday use, besides those in the way of dress. Also a ten-pound note, to which no allusion was made, and which, Margaretta judged, was to meet any special need which might arise during her mother's absence. She told Mrs. Moffat about this, and asked her to take care of it for her, saying, "Do you not think mamma avoided naming it, so that if grandmother makes me show her the letter, as she always does, she might not know about the money?"
"I do, dear Meg. If it were sent by any one but your mother it would be different, but she has a right to trust you alone, if she thinks proper. Have you any money?"
"I have a sovereign and some silver left of what mamma gave me the last time. I do not spend much, but I like to have a trifle to give at church, and so on. It looks odd to put a threepenny-bit in always, does it not? And grandmother never gives me more for collections. She says it is enough for me, and she forgets that it is for her too, seeing that she does not go herself."