Part 8 (2/2)
That Sunday Mrs. Pinkerton joined us at the dinner-table. I knew she would not be guilty of the incivility of staying away.
”You remember my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Marston?” I said, by way of introduction, as she came in.
”I remember them very well,” was the reply; ”too well,” the tone implied. I made a special effort to be talkative, and to keep others talking during the dinner. It was very hard work, and I met with indifferent success. It was not a pleasant dinner. Mr. Desmond alone appeared not to mind the restraint, and he alone ventured to address the widow. She was polite, but far from sociable. We contrived to pa.s.s the afternoon tolerably, but not at all in the spirit which I wished to have prevail when I had friends to visit me, and all because of that presence.
After they were gone, I took occasion to introduce the subject, for I had learned that Mrs. Pinkerton's skill in expressing her disapproval in her manner was so great that she relied on it almost altogether, and rarely resorted to words for the purpose.
”I am afraid you did not enjoy the company very much to-day,” I said, as we were sitting in the little parlor, overlooking an exquisite flower garden.
”No, sir,” she answered, with the old emphasis on the ”sir.” ”I do not approve of company on the Sabbath, and I had hoped you would never again bring those Marstons into my presence at any time.”
”Excuse me, madam; but I propose to be my own judge of whom I shall invite to visit me, and of the time and occasion. I presume you admit my right to do so.”
”Certainly, sir. I never disputed it, and had no intention of saying anything if you had not introduced the subject.”
”I introduced the subject for the very purpose; in fact, I brought out the company for the very purpose of vindicating my right, and it would be very gratifying to me if you would concede it cheerfully, and not, by your manner and way of treating my friends, interfere with it hereafter.”
I was almost astonished at my own courage and spirit, and still more so at Mrs. Pinkerton's reply. It was dusky and I could not see her face, but her voice trembled and choked as she answered,-
”G.o.d knows I do not wish to interfere with your happiness. Bessie's happiness has been my one thought for years, and now it is bound up with yours. I have my own notions, which I cannot easily discard, but I would not do or say anything that would mar your enjoyment for the world. I have long felt that I did do so, and have made up my mind to make any sacrifice of pride and inclination to avoid it.”
Here she actually broke down and sobbed, and I was very near joining her. ”Never mind,” I said at length, quite softened; ”I guess we shall get along pleasantly together in the future, now that we have an understanding.”
”I hope so,” she said, recovering her serenity, and we relapsed into a painful silence.
This was the third and final victory, but I felt no elation over it. My mother-in-law receded somewhat into the background, but it was so much in sorrow, rather than anger, that I felt her new mood almost as depressing as the old. I didn't want her to feel injured or subdued, but evidently she couldn't help it, and the mother-in-law, though conquered, was herself still, and that congeniality that would make our life together wholly pleasant was impossible. Her existence was still a shadow, less chilling and more pensive, but a shadow in our home, and it seemed destined to stay there.
CHAPTER XI.
GEORGE'S NEW DEPARTURE.
”George is growing very restless. I don't know what ails him,” Bessie said to me.
”I can guess,” I said, looking wise.
”What is it?”
”Do you remember what an uneasy, good-for-nothing chap one Charlie Travers was, when he first began to call on a certain young woman with conspicuous regularity?”
”O Charlie, you don't think he-”
”No, no! Now don't explode too suddenly. I wouldn't have him know that I suspect anything for the world. We won't name any names, but I keep my eyes about me, and I flatter myself I know the symptoms.”
And with these mysterious words, I started for the bank, leaving to Bessie a new and delightful subject for speculation and air-castle building.
George did not come home to supper that day, but that was nothing extraordinary. I was sitting out on the porch, smoking after the meal, and saw him coming up the street.
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