. . Trust me!"
The door opened and Aunt Anne came in. She had been prepared by
Martha for her visitor, and she came forward to him now with the
dignity and kindly patronage of some lady abbess receiving the
miscreant and boorish yokel of a neighbouring village. And yet how
fine she was! As Maggie watched her, she thought of what she would
give to have some of that self-command and dignity and decision. Was
it her religion that gave her that? Or only her own self-
satisfaction? No; there was something behind Aunt Anne, something
stronger than she, something that Mr. Warlock also knew . . . and it
was this something that Uncle Mathew met with his own hostility as
he looked up now at his sister and greeted her:
"Why, Mathew! You never told us. I would have hurried back, and now
Elizabeth, I'm afraid, has gone on to see some friends. She will be
so disappointed. But at least you've had Maggie to entertain you."
A quick glance was exchanged between uncle and niece.
"Yes," he said, "we've had a talk, Anne, thank you. And it doesn't
matter about Elizabeth, because I'm staying close here in Henrietta
Street, and I'll be in again if I may.
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