It was arranged that Flora should for the present at least remain at
the cottage, and Maddy accepted the kindness gratefully. She had
become so much accustomed to being cared for by Guy that she almost
looked upon it as a matter of course, and did not think of what others
might possibly say, but when, in as delicate a manner as possible Guy
suggested furnishing the cottage in better style, even proposing to
modernize it entirely in the spring, Maddy objected at once. "They
were already indebted to him for more than they could ever pay," she
said, and she would not suffer it. So Guy submitted, though it grated
upon his sense of the beautiful and refined terribly, to see Maddy
amid so humble surroundings. Twice a week, and sometimes oftener, he
rode down to Honedale, and Maddy felt that without these visits life
would hardly have been endurable.
During the vacation Jessie spent a part of the time with her, but
Agnes resolutely resisted all Guy's entreaties that she would at least
call once on Maddy, who had expressed a wish to see her, and who, on
account of her grandfather's health, and the childishness with which
Uncle Joseph clung to her, could not well come up to Aikenside. Agnes
would not go down, neither would she give other reason for her
obstinacy than the apparently foolish one that she did not wish to see
the crazy man. Still she did not object to Jessie's going as often as
she liked, and she sent by her many little delicacies from the larder
at Aikenside, some for grandpa, but most for Uncle Joseph, who prized
highly everything coming from "the madam," and sent back to her more
than one strangely worded message which made the proud woman's eyes
overflow when sure that no one could see her. But this kind of
intercourse came to an end at last. The vacation was over, Jessie had
gone back to school, and Maddy began in sober earnest the new life
before her. Flora, it is true, relieved her of all household drudgery,
but no one could share the burden of care and anxiety pressing so
heavily upon her, anxiety for her grandfather, whose health seemed
failing so fast, and who always looked so disturbed if a shadow were
resting on her bright face, or her voice were less cheerful in its
tone, and care for the imbecile Joseph, who clung to her as a puny
child clings to its mother, refusing to be cared for by any one else,
and often requiring of her more than her strength could endure for a
great length of time. She it was who gave him his breakfast in the
morning, amused him through the day, and then, after he was in bed at
night, often sat by his side till a late hour, singing to him old
songs, or telling Bible stories until he fell away to sleep. Then if
he awoke, as he frequently did, there was a cry for Maddy, and the
soothing process had to be repeated, until the tired, pale watcher
ceased to wonder that her grandmother had died so suddenly, wondering
rather that she had lived so long and borne so much.