Chapter V: A Satisfactory Interview

"The character of a generation is moulded by personal character."
Westcott.

ON the following Sunday Rowena met Mysie and her father at the doors of the church which she attended. It was a quiet old-fashioned service, and the congregation was not a fashionable one, but the preacher had an arresting, quickening power of delivery, and he took the Bible alone for his authority.

General Macdonald said when he came out:

"I don't as a rule feel at home in London churches, but that man has the power of raising one from earth altogether."

"Oh, Dad!" expostulated Mysie. "I didn't feel that. I felt I was wedged between the two people I love best in the world, and I longed to hug you both!"

Rowena laughed at Mysie, but replied to the General:

"Yes, Canon Villars always takes me right away with him. He is a wonderful mixture of practical common sense and mysticism."

"And do you never get your—your friend to come and hear him?"

"Once I did."

A shadow came over Rowena's face as she spoke. She had taken Mrs. Burke there soon after they came to town, and the Canon had preached a very scathing sermon on worldliness, and the unprofitableness of it. Mrs. Burke had come away furiously indignant with him, and had refused to set her foot inside the door ever again.

"Didn't she profit by it?"

"I am afraid not. His text was, 'Hear now then, thou that art given to pleasures,' and he was very severe and convincing. But with some people, most I should think, it is absolutely useless to tell them they should give up all that they have; empty their hearts, before they know how to fill them! Love draws, severity drives!"

"I don't quite agree," said General Macdonald. "In these days there is too much laxity and forbearance with sin. But you must remember I have centuries of Scotch training behind me."

"But in vulgar words, the 'proof of the pudding is in the eating.' That sermon has kept Mrs. Burke from going to church ever since she heard it."

"I wish you would leave her," said the General emphatically.

Rowena shook her head and changed the subject.

She began to tell him of Mrs. Burke's niece, and of the letters that had been sent to her, and asked him if he would be willing to interview her, if she would be able to come to town.

"And if Mrs. Burke asks you to dinner to meet her, will you come? I hope you will."

"If I can meet her in a quiet way I shall be glad to do so."

"Now that is nice and friendly of you. I assure you that you will not be shocked in any way."

Then with a little laugh she added:

"We want to see some good people sometimes, you know. They bring a different atmosphere with them."

They took a turn together in the Park before Rowena went home. As they parted he said:

"I hope you have a quiet Sunday. But it seems to be the fashion to receive visitors all the afternoon. Even my old cousin does it."

"You will have to run away as I do if you want to be quiet," said Rowena cheerfully.

She walked home with a little amusement as well as pity at the General's inadaptability to his circumstances. "He is a man in one groove," she said to herself. "I am sure he is much concerned at my atmosphere surroundings; but after all, my business is not his, and he has no right to try to manage my life."

The next day Mrs. Burke heard from her niece. "She is actually coming," she told Rowena, "but only for a couple of nights, as she is in charge whilst her mother is away. My dear, I am frightened of her, and feel I should like to run away and leave her to you. I shall scandalize her every minute of the day, I know; her very letter reeks of righteousness!"

"Oh, don't!" expostulated Rowena in a pained tone. "You really do respect sincerity and goodness in the bottom of your heart. Don't mock at it."

"Well, I respect you. But you're not what I call sanctimonious. Now write off to that good-looking old Scotchie, and ask him to dinner. Who shall we have besides? Some one to frivol with me, I think."

"No, let us be alone for once."

"My dear, I shall be bored to tears. I shall go off to the theatre then, and leave you to entertain them."

"That you can please yourself about. But I don't think it will be very polite."

"Then I shall be as cross as two sticks—unless we can manage to shake a little fun out of our guests. I haven't seen Marion since she was a child in pinafores, but I can imagine she will be a repetition of her mother."

Marion arrived in two days' time. Rowena was glad that Mrs. Burke was dining out, for she had her to herself, and told her all she knew about Mysie and her father.

Marion was a good-looking woman. Her clothes were shabby, but she had a sweet face and a quantity of soft brown hair coiled round a shapely little head. Rowena was satisfied that she would find favour in General Macdonald's sight. They sat over the drawing-room fire and talked, and Marion at last began to ask questions about her aunt.

"I don't feel at home in all this luxury," she said, "and yet I must confess I like it. I cannot understand why my parents were so averse to be helped in any way by Aunt Caroline. You say you are fond of her. She cannot be wholly bad!"

"No," said Rowena, "she is not. She is one of the most kindhearted creatures that I have ever come across, and—remember—she has known what is good and right, and still keeps memories of her young days packed away in her heart. She always tries to appear more empty-headed and frivolous than she really is. And I believe that one day she will search and find again what she has so carelessly thrown away. Bear this in mind when you hear her talking."

Marion was tired with her journey and went early to bed. She did not see her aunt till noon the next day. Her heart sank when she saw Mrs. Burke's smart attire, and noted the powder and rouge on her smiling good-natured face.

"Well, my dear, glad to see you! Rowena has made you welcome, and you will see more of her than you will do of me, for I have a good many engagements in town. Are you ready to go off to this immaculate Highland lair? According to Rowena, the child is a perfect child, and the father everything that an ordinary man is not. He is coming to dinner with us to-night, and I advise you to take stock of him. Now tell me about your father. How is he?"

"Not much better. The doctor says it is now only a question of weeks!"

"Dear me! How sad! But doctors are often mistaken. Now, my dear Marion, have you a decent dinner dress? As my niece I like to see you nicely dressed, and if you don't possess one, I will get Rowena to run you round to the shops. There are wonderful ready-made little gowns at Dalton & Lane's, and I think a nice dark velvet would suit you. Don't trouble about the price. I have an account there and it will be booked to me. And if you do come to terms, and agree to go off to Scotland, you must have a suitable outfit. Rowena will see to it for me, I know."

Marion looked very uncomfortable. She tried to thank her aunt, but Rowena saw that gentle though she was, she possessed a certain amount of pride.

"A governess is always very quietly dressed, Aunt Caroline," she said, "and I have been a resident governess before in quite good families. I shall be able to get what I require."

"Well, I mean to give you a very quiet but handsome gown for dinner parties. Rowena, take her out directly after luncheon."

And so it came to pass that when General Macdonald arrived that evening he was introduced to a very sweet-looking, dignified woman in a brown velvet gown which matched her brown eyes and hair. He came early, and had an interview with her in Mrs. Burke's back drawing-room. There was a light in his eyes, as he joined Rowena just before dinner, and had the opportunity of speaking to her alone. "She'll do," he said. "I like her extremely. A woman with religion and principle. She's willing to come, but not just yet, I'm afraid—says she must wait till her mother returns home. And she does not seem to know when that will be. She has shown me any amount of certificates and references, but I know a good woman when I see her, and I place that first; education comes afterwards."

Dinner was a difficult time. Mrs. Burke was in her usual high spirits, and rattled away in an astonishing fashion it seemed to her niece. General Macdonald was courteous, but rather stiff, and Rowena strove to bridge over awkward pauses and water down some of Mrs. Burke's rash statements.

"I'm sure my niece is one of your sort," she informed the General. "You Scotch people always take life seriously, and she has been brought up in the old-fashioned orthodox style. Her family never has approved of me."

"Why is it old-fashioned to take life seriously?" said General Macdonald gravely. "Isn't life with all of us a very wonderful and mysterious thing?"

"Oh, I have learnt to take things as I find them," said Mrs. Burke, deliberately giving a slow wink to Rowena. "I'm not good at theology, or at any of the other 'ologies. But I remember a maxim of Solomon's—or one of the Bible sages: 'A man hath no better thing under the sun than to eat and to drink and to be merry.' And I practise that every day of my life."

"Oh, Aunt Caroline!" protested her niece.

"We have the story of one who practised that too in the Bible," said General Macdonald, fixing a stern eye upon his hostess. "And his summons to meet his God came like a thunderbolt to him."

"Yes, I think I used to be terrorized by that story when I was a child," said Mrs. Burke with smiling indifference.

Rowena felt so nervous that she almost laughed, a habit which sometimes overcame her against her will.

General Macdonald looked at her in pained surprise.

"I want you to tell Miss Panton about Abertarlie," she said, hurriedly turning to him. "She has never been in Scotland before, and has no idea of the solitude of some parts of the Highlands. Didn't you find an eagle's nest on the crags above your house when you were a boy? Mysie was telling me about it one day."

A smile came to the General's face at the memory of a very bright day in his childhood; he began describing his home to Marion, and Rowena turned to Mrs. Burke and talked nonsense with her for the rest of the meal.

Things did not go much better in the drawing-room afterwards. Mrs. Burke lit up her cigarette, offered the General one, which he declined, and asked him if he would like a game of bridge. Then she told a society scandal, and finally went to the piano and began trying over some topical music-hall songs. Rowena saw that she was determined to show her worst side to her guests, and General Macdonald's stern face had the effect of egging her on.

She sat down by him presently and began talking to him about his child.

"What does a man know about a girl child!" she exclaimed. "Let me give you a piece of sound advice. Give her her head whilst she is young, don't blacken all earth's beauties and pleasures to her. If you tie her up and confine her to one tiny rut, if you make her an obedient follower of all your prejudices and vagrant fancies, she will break away from you when she is older. It's like bottling up steam. Let the young enjoy themselves, nature will have it so. I know what I'm talking about, and I've seen many girls and boys come to utter grief because their parents tried to make them into long-faced canting Puritans."

Then the General had his say:

"Madam, there are two classes in this world. Those who train their children for Heaven, and those who train them for the Prince of this world. I seek to train my child for her heavenly inheritance, and want no advice from anyone but God Himself."

Mrs. Burke had nothing to say. She was strangely subdued for the rest of the evening. She and General Macdonald parted from each other courteously but coldly, and when he had gone she took hold of Rowena and made her come upstairs to her room with her.

"Do you really like that stiff-starched Pharisee, Rowena? Don't tell me that he is your ideal of a gentleman and a father! He's a strong man, I admit. His eyes blazed when he turned upon me. I almost admired him then. But, oh, I wouldn't be Marion for a hundred—a thousand pounds! To be shut away in a lonely Scotch glen with a man of such views would be purgatory to me. How did you stand it when you were ill? But of course I feel he is disgusted and horrified by my ways. And with you he is tenderly sympathetic and protective. My dear, his eyes never left you. He watches for you to speak, and when you do, his eyes glisten and soften as a lover's would do. Has he ever made love to you, eh? I suppose he lives too close to heaven to have anything to do with earthly love. Oh, how I hate your good people! How righteously superior and complacently smug they all are! All except you! And why are you so different? Why have you such love for such poor sinners as I and my friends are? I do believe you have a sneaking love for me even when I am outraging your sense of decency and delicacy, now haven't you? Confess it!"

"I have more than a sneaking love for you," said Rowena warmly. "But you annoy me most dreadfully when you set yourself to disgust and alienate those who would be good friends to you if you would allow them to be. You don't believe or mean half you say. Why do you delight in making yourself out such an utterly worthless and empty-headed woman?"

"Because that is what I am, and no one knows it better than I do myself. I am utterly worthless, Rowena, and one night I shall be summoned to meet my Judge like the man who admonished his soul to eat, drink, and be merry. You see I know all the Bible stories as well as your pious friend does. I wish I didn't remember the Bible so well. We were taught so much of it, and learnt so much of it by rote, that I even now find whole passages and chapters coming into my mind."

"Then you will be comforted by it when you come to the deep waters," said Rowena.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, you surely remember all the lovely promises in it, don't you?"

"They are not for me."

Rowena was silent. Mrs. Burke's face was pathetic, as it sometimes was when a mood of despondency seized her. Rowena bent over and kissed her with one of her warm, sweet kisses.

"I am praying every day for you," she said softly; "now good night, and may you have pleasant dreams."

Mrs. Burke seized hold of Rowena by both hands. "I won't have you pray for me. I forbid it. I won't be made uncomfortable. I want to be left alone in peace. I believe you think you are going to bring me over to your side. I like you, but I hate good people, and I've taken a real dislike to that old General!"

"Good night," repeated Rowena, as she left the room.

Sometimes Mrs. Burke reminded her of a spoilt pettish child. She had to be humoured and left alone.

The next day there was quite a consultation about Marion's future. Mrs. Burke said that she ought to be ready to go to Scotland after the Christmas holidays. "And if your mother has not returned by that time, send me your nephew and nieces. I will look after them, and you can shut the house up, or hand it over to the locum tenens. You can't keep that old tartar waiting. I'm sorry for you to be housed with such a cantankerous saint, but you'll suit him, and he'll suit you. Write and tell him you'll be ready by the middle or end of January."

"Circumstances permitting," put in Rowena.

So Marion meekly did as she was told, writing at the same time to her parents and telling them what she was doing. She left her aunt the next day. Rowena felt she was relieved to go, and Mrs. Burke made no pretence of her feelings.

"Oil and water will not mix. She opens her eyes in fright whenever I begin to speak, and when I smoke she simply turns her head away as if she cannot bear the sight of me. I have done my duty by her, and I get no thanks for it. I hope she will never come here again!"

It was only two weeks afterwards that Mrs. Burke heard from her sister. Her husband had died suddenly, and she was returning home after the funeral.

"And I suppose she is left without a penny," was Mrs. Burke's comment. "Well, it is none of my business. I shall wait and see what she does."

Rowena knew that help would be ready for the poor widow when she would need it.

One afternoon General Macdonald came round to see her. Mrs. Burke was out. Rowena was not very well. She had had a heavy cold, and was only just out of her room. She was sitting over the fire in the drawing-room, and a book was upon her lap.

"I am afraid this is a 'good-bye' visit," said the General. "Mysie will run round to see you to-morrow, but I have business to do in the City, and we leave by the night train to-morrow evening."

"I am sorry you are going," Rowena said frankly; "but you will be glad, I know, for you don't like town."

"I think London is now as frivolous as Paris," said the General gravely. "It is no pleasure to be in it."

"There are many circles," said Rowena thoughtfully. "In every big city there is a certain section who are taking their pleasures madly, but there is a great deal of good going on in a quiet way."

"You see good in every one," said the General with a smile; "even in your giddy old friend with whom you live."

"Now, we won't talk about her. I feel so glad that you are going to have Marion Panton. I am sure she will prove a success. She is devoted to children and wins their love wherever she goes. I have seen letters from some of her old pupils. They were most attached to her."

"Yes, I am grateful to you for the trouble you have taken."

He paused, and Rowena bent forward, a glint of laughter in her bright, soft eyes:

"And don't frighten her too much by giving her your views of a child's training! You sound so very alarming when you talk, and you are so delightfully different when you act! Let yourself go sometimes, and show her that you are human like the rest of us! Am I not impudent in talking like this?"

For a moment the General's eyes held a gleam of corresponding amusement in them, then he stood up, his back to the fire and his whole face full of softened emotion:

"I really came to talk to you about something very important," he said. "Will you give me a hearing?"