"If Conrade knew it, which I trust he never will, he ought to esteem it
a testimony to his mother."
"Oh, no, for it must have been my fault! I always was so childish, and
when I've got my boys with me, I can't help being happy," and the tears
swelled again in her eyes. "I know I have not been as sad and serious as
my aunt thought I ought to be, and now this comes of it."
"You have been true, have acted nothing," said Colonel Keith, "and that
is best of all. No one who really knew you could mistake your feelings.
No doubt that your conduct agrees better with what would please our dear
Sir Stephen than if you drooped and depressed the children."
"Oh, I am glad you say that," she said, looking up, flushed with
pleasure now, and her sweet eyes brimming over. "I have tried to think
what he would like in all I have done, and you know I can't help being
proud and glad of belonging to him still; and he always told me not to
be shy and creeping into the nursery out of every one's way."
The tears were so happy now that he felt that the wound was healed, and
that he might venture to leave her, only asking first, "And now what
would you like me to do? Shall I try to persuade my brother to come away
from this place?"
"Oh, but then every one would find out why, and that would be dreadful!
Besides, you are only just come. And Miss Williams--"
"Do not let that stand in your way."
"No, no. You will be here to take care of me. And his going now would
make people guess; and that would be worse than anything."
"It would. The less disturbance the better; and if you upset his plans
now, he might plead a sort of right to renew the attempt later. Quiet
indifference will be more dignified and discouraging. Indeed, I little
thought to what I was exposing you. Now I hope you are going to rest, I
am sure your head is aching terribly."
She faintly smiled, and let him give her his arm to the foot of the
stairs.
At first he was too indignant for any relief save walking up and down
the esplanade, endeavouring to digest the unfairness towards himself
of his brother's silence upon views that would have put their joint
residence at Avonmouth on so different a footing; above all, when the
Temple family were his own peculiar charge, and when he remembered how
unsuspiciously he had answered all questions on the money matters,
and told how all was left in the widow's own power. It was the more
irritating, as he knew that his displeasure would be ascribed to
interested motives, and regarded somewhat as he had seen Hubert's
resentment treated when Francis teased his favourite rabbit. Yet not
only on principle, but to avoid a quarrel, and to reserve to himself
such influence as might best shield Lady Temple from further annoyance,
he must school himself to meet his brother with coolness and patience.
It was not, however, without strong effort that he was able to perceive
that, from the outer point of view, one who, when a mere child, had
become the wife of an aged general, might, in her early widowhood, be
supposed open to the addresses of a man of higher rank and fewer years,
and the more as it was not in her nature to look crushed and pathetic.
He, who had known her intimately throughout her married life and in her
sorrow, was aware of the quiet force of the love that had grown up with
her, so entirely a thread in her being as to crave little expression,
and too reverent to be violent even in her grief. The nature, always
gentle, had recovered its balance, and the difference in years had no
doubt told in the readiness with which her spirits had recovered their
cheerfulness, though her heart remained unchanged. Still, retired as her
habits were, and becoming as was her whole conduct, Colin began to
see that there had been enough of liveliness about her to lead to Lord
Keith's mistake, though not to justify his want of delicacy in the
precipitation of his suit.