Agnes Giberne

“ And then she said, "Walter, how could you?"
"How could I what? See Kitty! Stuff and nonsense!" said he. "If I did have a word with her, what's the harm? 'All's fair in love and war!'" says he, and he tried to laugh.
"Wrong-doing is never fair," Mary told him. And she said, "If you loved Kitty, you could not wish to make her deceitful."
"Well, you needn't bother," said he.
"And that is not all," Mary went on. "How could you—"
"How could I what?" said he, very short. "Tell Kitty she had a pretty face?"
"How could you rob her of her watch?" Mary said. ”

“ Why shouldn't you and I make a good thing of it, Kitty?" and she smiled, to cheer me up.
"I like pretty work, and mother always says I'm quick. But I shouldn't like to sit all day long in this room."
"Ah, we can't always do just what we like in life," says she quietly; "can we, Kitty?"
"No!" I said.
"The question isn't so much what we like, as what God likes for us," says she.
I got up, and gave her a kiss. "Yes, I'm trying to learn that, Mary, I am really."
"Then you'll be taught it, dear," said she. "God always gives us the teaching we need—if we are willing." ”

“ And then I had one of my crying fits; and Mary comforted me. But when it was over I came back to what we had been talking about, and I said, "I do think I ought to see poor mother."
"Yes," Mary answered, slow-like, as if she wasn't sure. "Yes, that is what I feel; and Mr. Baitson has given leave. If you wish it, and if I think best—but he doesn't want you to be pressed. And he can't promise it will do her good. He does not believe it will do her harm."
"Is mother ill?" I asked.
"Not exactly ill," Mary said. "She isn't ill in body. The blow seems all to have fallen on her poor mind. ”

“ Mother spoke next. She said in a dry sort of tone, "It'll half kill him. He's always thought so much of his Kitty."
And I felt as if my heart would break: as if I couldn't bear any more: yet I wanted to hear all that Mary had to tell. I craved to know how she'd found out about the watch; and I was frightened for Walter, with a fear that he might have to go to prison for it. Being half-strangled with sobs, I made a sort of movement like going away, not knowing whether to go or stay; and mother said in that same dry voice—
"Kitty, you are to stay." ”

“ Mother was always so wonderful knowing about people.
The Earl smiled at mother, as if he understood her a deal better than people generally did, and he held out a soft hand to grasp mother's, which was as clean as his, but not soft, because of the hard work it had to do. "A girl who will do her duty at such a moment speaks well for the mother who has trained her," says he. "What is the little girl's name?" I suppose he called me "little girl" because Mr. Arthur had done so. "Kitty—Kitty what? Kitty Phrynne! I should like to give Kitty Phrynne a remembrance of the day when she—did her duty!" ”

“ I began to see what sort of a message Mary had meant, and I didn't speak.
"Mind, Kitty," said she, "your words may have power one way or another—for good or for evil. I don't say they will have, for I'm not sure whether you have any power at all over Walter; but they may. Most people have some sort of power over pretty nearly every one else. Walter has robbed you. What am I to say?"
"Oh, not robbed," I said.
"He has robbed you," she said again firmly. "It is no thanks to Walter that you have the watch again. He has acted with downright dishonesty, and nothing less. ”

“ Mother seemed to forget about me, and Walter and I didn't so much as give a glance one at another.
"Ah!—to say good-bye!" says mother.
"I didn't think it right to go without," mutters he.
"Maybe not," says she; "if it wasn't a solid good-bye in the shape of gold and silver you came to her for, Mr. Russell," says she; and he got as red as fire again. "Ah, I thought so," says she, as quiet as possible. "Mary is a good unselfish creature; but she's got herself to provide for, and there's limits even to what a sister can bear. ”

“ She did not seem flurried, but faced the crowd of gentlemen as quietly as she would have faced her own husband alone. Mother was not one to be easily upset.
It took her by surprise to find Sir Richard shaking hands with her and congratulating, and Mr. Arthur following his example again, and me looking red and bashful and happy, and a lot of people asking, "Is this her mother?" and pressing round with kind speeches about what they owed to me.
Mother stood still, looking from one to another with her sharp quiet eyes: not flurried, you know, but waiting to take in the meaning of things. ”

“ At first I felt cross; only it was not possible to be cross long with Miss Russell—she was so gentle always. Somehow she got to talking about her own young days, and the parents she had lost, and the struggle life had been. She must have worked hard, very hard, to support her brother and herself; and to have him educated for a schoolmaster.
"But hard work doesn't seem so hard for those one loves," she said. "I have always loved Walter dearly—almost as a mother loves, I think. He is more like my child than my brother." ”

“ Mother was so fond of wild roses.
When I got near home, Rupert came up. He had been to his home for tea, and was on his way back to the station, so he joined me. It was natural he should: he and I were so much together. I had always been fond of Rupert, and he was always good to me. You see, I had no brothers or sisters of my own, and Rupert had only one sickly sister called Mabel,—much too fine a name for such a poor fretful thing!
Not many people cared for Mabel Bowman; and though Rupert was in a way fond of her, he thought much more of me. ”

“ I went on. "I—for the sake of Walter Russell."
I did want to see Rupert again—poor Rupert, whom I had so scorned after all his goodness and devotion to me. But perhaps I never should: and even if some day I did, he would not be the same. He would have forgotten his old liking for Kitty.
"I shall have grown ugly by that time," I murmured; "and he will have learnt to like somebody else. And it will be just what I deserve."
Then Mary came in.
"Is mother upstairs?" I asked.
Mary looked a little pale and troubled, I thought.
"No, dear," she said. "Your mother has been out all the afternoon. ”

“ Some silent people are dull; but not mother. For, you see, she didn't keep silent because she never had anything to say; and there was something about her very look that kept people alive.
I think I see her now—middle-aged, and going on for plumpness, with smooth brown hair, and a smooth forehead, and such a pair of quick eyes. Mother's eyes did a lot of speaking, when her lips were silent. Nothing ever escaped those eyes. She didn't always talk about what she saw, and she didn't forget it.
Mother was always neat, as if she had just come out of a band-box. ”

“ Walter married three weeks after I left him, to take care of you and your mother. My dear, it would have been just the same if I had stayed there," says she. "He was bent on having the girl, and I knew it. He married her, saying nothing to me. And a week later—"
"Is she a nice girl?" I asked.
"No; not a nice girl at all," Mary said; and her face took its stern look for just a moment. "Not a girl I could wish to live with, even if she wished to have me; which she does not."
"And they are living at Littleburgh," I said in a sort of dreamy way. It all seemed so queer. ”

“ Russell showed plainly what he felt too. He put down the watch and tilted his chair, leaning back on it, and he fixed his eyes hard upon Rupert, lifting his eyebrows with a sort of disdain, as if he was looking down upon a lower animal altogether.
I don't now think that kind of manner from one man to another anything grand, and I know well enough it is not gentlemanly. A true gentleman is kind and courteous all round, just as much to those beneath him as to those above him. ”

“ I asked, getting frightened.
"Dear Kitty, haven't you ever thought," says she, "that you and your mother can't stay on here? The house will be wanted for—somebody else."
For another stationmaster in my father's place. I had not thought of that, and it broke me down afresh. To leave our home, the dear little home where he had always been; it seemed more than I could bear.
"Kitty, there's only one way to take it," Mary whispered. "God sends the trouble, and it is His will. If you will have it from His Hand, He will give comfort with the pain." ”

“ Mary answered. "We shall see better in a few weeks. When you are gone to Mrs. Withers, I shall take Mrs. Phrynne to my old home."
Take mother to Littleburgh! I didn't notice the word "old," or I should not have been so surprised. To think of mother under the same roof with Walter Russell did astonish me.
"Not Littleburgh, but Bristol," Mary said gravely. "Littleburgh would not do. Mr. Baitson wants her to be in some quite new place, away from all that reminds her of her trouble. We think Bristol will be best; and friends are so kind in giving help." ”

“ I said.
"Well, no—nor do I," says he. "Most serious event in a man's life, isn't it?"
And he sat down by my side. "Kitty, you're prettier than ever," says he softly.
But that was going too far. I couldn't stand it. Something in his manner and speech angered me; and I thought how he had led me into saddening my father's last days—how perhaps even, but for him, father might have been living still, and mother well, and I a happy girl in the dear old home! No; that was going too far!
"Good-bye," I said. "My train will start soon." And I got up and walked away. ”

“ Mary gave me a chair, and I set off sobbing, and presently I saw mother had left her ironing and was standing to watch me in a queer sort of way, as if she couldn't make me out.
"Poor Kitty," Mary says.
Mother came near, looking hard still.
"Kitty! Yes, it's Kitty," says she.
"Your own Kitty," Mary says.
"Yes, it's Kitty," mother says, but not as if she cared.
"O mother, do love me," I broke out, feeling so miserable.
"I've got no heart to love anybody," mother says, and she turned off back to her ironing. "He's gone," said she.
"And he loved and forgave Kitty," Mary says, slow and quiet. ”

“ And then she says, "He's a bad man."
"He isn't a good man, I'm afraid," said I.
"He's a long way off from that," said she. "There's different sorts of badness, Kitty. A man may be resolute set on evil, or he may drift into evil just from not caring. I don't know as it makes much odds how he comes there—only I'd have more hopes of the resolute man of the two. For if he came out of evil, he'd do it with a will, and stay out; but if Mr. Russell's pulled out, he's as like as not to drift in again."
And wasn't it true?
"Only you wouldn't say there was no hope for a weak man, mother?" ”

“ I was getting to a more true and right notion of what Walter Russell was. He had led me into evil. He had deceived and taught deceit. I saw all this, and I did resolve that, God helping me, there should be nothing further between us, even if he wished it, at least until he should be another sort of man—and nothing at any time hidden from my mother.
But still I couldn't at once cast aside all thoughts of him. I do believe there's an unhealthy power which some people have over some others, and which makes the breaking loose from them a hard matter. ”

“ And you know, Kitty, one may always come to God, with every wrong, and ask Him to set it right or to help one through. Always! always!" she repeated very earnestly. "If we can't see our way, He will show it to us. And if we don't know what we ought to do, He will make it clear. We only have to be willing, and to wait for the showing." ”

“ Mother was so unlike to father. I knew it would be a good while before she'd feel for me as she was used to feel, or give me the old trust. And I knew that would be my punishment.
"It's not good for you to cry so much," says she. "Come a turn in the garden with me. That'll make you feel better."
Mother took up her red shawl, and we went out together. The fresh air always did me good, and I knew mother was showing forgiveness too in her own way. We didn't say anything, but went along the path on the embankment to the end. ”

“ There's a Miss Russell badly hurt—been ill before, I believe—and the shock made her ill again. I don't know more; only they daren't move her more than need be; so your mother's offered to take her in here. Dear me, you've done a lot already!" And he stood still to look. "How ever came you to think of that shawl, Kitty?"
"Why, I had it in my arms," I said. "Come, you'd better be sharp, Rupert. How soon is Miss Russell to be here?" ”

“ Walter and I have to be careful now about every penny we spend. I think we shall have a snug Christmas together at home this year." Then she stooped to kiss me—she was the tallest, you know. "Kitty, you must be brave," says she. "You and I will feel very much being parted, after so many weeks together, and I shall miss your mother sorely. But we have to be brave, dear. After all, though friendship brings with it the pain of saying goodbye, one wouldn't be without the friendship, would one?" ”

“ She wanted to know all about the truth of the matter; so I told her how Rupert had bothered, and how I had answered him, saying more than I meant, and how Mrs. Hammond had happened to hear, and how she had promised not to repeat, and hadn't kept her word.
"Yes, that is the way," mother said, seeming terribly vexed. "If nobody would ever say what oughtn't to be overheard, there would be a lot less harm done." ”

“ Helping him farther along the road of deceit and dishonesty, and letting him teach you to deceive. If only you had stood firm when he tempted you, there'd have been sin spared on both sides. It is one of the saddest tales I have ever heard," said she. "One of the saddest, after the training you have had—and with such a father and mother! Perhaps you fancy you gave in because you like Walter. He's nice-looking, and he can say pretty things to girls. But it's a poor sort of 'liking' for a person, that can make you help forward the evil in him. ”

“ I said.
"And your mother quotes old Watts about 'idle hands.' A woman often sees farther than a man, Kitty. My brother finds amusement of some sort, or he would not be so willing to stay. The question is, what sort of amusement? An idle young fellow has it in his power to work mischief, unless—"
"I thought you were so fond of him," I said. And I did feel hurt for Mr. Russell—not there to defend himself.
"Yes—more than fond," she answered. "I love him with more than a sister's love, my dear. It is like a mother's love, I believe, for it can see his faults and look to what is for his good." ”