Maggie's first impression was her ultimate
one--that her aunt had strayed out of some stained-glass window into
a wild world that did not bewilder her only because she did not
seriously regard it. Maggie found herself wondering who had fastened
her aunt's buttons and strings when she rose in the morning, how had
she ever travelled in the right train and descended at the right
station? How could she remember such trifles when her thoughts were
fixed on such distant compelling dreams? The pale oval face, the
black hair brushed back from the forehead, the thin hands with long
tapering fingers, the black dress, the slender upright body--this
figure against the cold bright winter sunlight was a picture that
remained always from that day in Maggie's soul.
Her aunt looked about her as though she had just awaked from sleep.
"Would you care to come up to your room?" asked Maggie, feeling the
embarrassment of Mr. Brassy's presence.
"Yes, dear, thank you--I will," said Miss Cardinal. They moved from
the room, Aunt Anne walking with a strange, almost clumsy
uncertainty, halting from one foot to the other as though she had
never learnt to trust her legs, a movement with which Maggie was to
become intensely familiar.
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