Moreover, Aunt
Elizabeth did not care to be left alone in the London house.
Uncle Mathew left on the day after the funeral. He had one little
last conversation with Maggie.
"I hope you'll be happy in London," he said.
"I hope so," said Maggie.
"I know you'll do what you can to help your aunts." Then he went on
more nervously. "Think of me sometimes. I shan't be able to come and
see you very often, you know--too busy. But I shall like to know
that you're thinking about me."
Maggie's new-found resolution taken so defiantly upon the moor was
suddenly severely tested. She felt as though her uncle were leaving
her to a world of enemies. She drove down her sense of desolation,
and he saw nothing but her quiet composure.
"Of course I'll think of you," she answered. "And you must come
often."
"They don't like me," he said, nodding his head towards where Aunt
Anne might be supposed to be waiting. "It's not my fault altogether-
-but they have severe ideas. It's religion, of course."
She suddenly seemed to see in his eyes some terror or despair, as
though he knew that he was going to drop "this time"--farther than
ever before.
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