"How should I know.”
"But surely there would have been some evidence...”
He did not see the evidence of bright eyes, of that absent manner, of that shine of happiness. He would never see that. Blind Gunnar. How did he ever love blindly himself?
"I am determined," said Carolan fiercely, 'that she shall make the right sort of marriage. I think she needs that sort of marriage. The boys will choose wisely... one feels that instinctively. Or if they do not, it will not be so important. But Katharine ...”
She saw his face in the glass, and she knew he was thinking of the coming of Katharine; how she, Carolan, had talked of marrying Tom Blake; he was remembering it all vividly, for it lay across his life as darkly as it lay across hers.
She turned to him then, clinging to him in sudden tenderness.
"Oh, Gunnar, you have done so much for us all. You have made me so happy.”
"My dear!" he said in a husky voice. But the shadow was still in his eyes. Lucille was there.
Margery knocked at Katharine's door and tiptoed into the room.
Katharine was standing before her mirror, admiring herself in her blue ball dress with its masses of yellow lace. Audrey, before starting on Carolan's hair, had dressed Katharine's and it hung in curls about her shoulders. Margery clasped her hands together and rocked herself with delight.
"My little love! My little dear. The men will be at your beck and call tonight!”
"How your thoughts run on men!" said Katharine, and Margery cackled with glee.
She was more outspoken, this Katharine, than her mother had been. Not quite the same brand of haughtiness. Ready to enjoy a little joke. And up to mischief, if Margery knew anything!
"Pity Ac isn't going to be here tonight!" Margery nudged her.
"Who?" said Katharine defiantly.
"You know who! Him who you sneak out to meet, me darling. Tell old Margery.”
"You know too much.”
"Well, what's an old woman to do? The gentlemen don't come calling on me now, you know.”
"You must not tell, Margery. You haven't told?”
"I'd cut me tongue out rather.”
"Only sometimes I've thought that Mamma seemed to know. Margery, if you told I'd never speak to you again!”
"Not me, lovey. Not me! And if she was to know, what of it? Do you think she's never ...”
She could silence with a look, the little beauty, and her with a secret on her conscience too! Old Margery had seen him. He was forever hanging about the yard, he was. And there was no mistaking where he'd come from; the look of him told you that. And his father all over again! He knew how to get round a woman, no mistake, and he'd got round her little ladyship till she was yearning for him. The things you could find out, if you kept your eyes open!
Margery finished lamely: "A pity he can't come here tonight! Pity he can't be introduced to your Ma and the master, and we can't hear the wedding bells ring out! That's how I'd like this to end.”
"Parents," said Katharine, 'have such ridiculous ideas!”
"Parents was young once, me lady!" Ah! That they was! And well I remember the two of them. Madam Carolan. flaunting herself in her mistress's clothes, and you, me lady, well on the way before you should have been. And that... what I don't like thinking of... and me having a hand in it, so's I'm frightened to show me face on that first floor.
I wish we'd get out of. this house. But ghosts don't mind where you go; they follow. And they don't need a-carriage, nor a stage... not they! And as sure as I'm Margery Green there's a ghost in this house, though I ain't and God forbid I ever should clapped eyes on it!
"Yes, Margery, but they've got this Sir Anthony in mind.”
"Ah! Marry him, me pretty dear, and you'll be a real live ladyship.
There's some who.wouldn't say no to that, I'll be bound!”
"I thought you'd talk sense, Margery!" Sweet balm, that was. Madam and the master, they didn't talk sense, but old Margery did, according to this lovely bit of flesh and blood. Margery put her hand on the bare shoulder, though it was risking her ladyship's displeasure, for she was never one for being touched ... except by some most likely ...
I never saw a child take after her mother more. And why not, and who are they to say her nay? What of them, eh? With the mistress lying in her bed, poor sickly lady. No, no, don't think of that, Margery; it ain't nice to think of. I wish we'd leave this house, but would that be any good? Ghosts don't need the stage.
"Look here, my dearie, love's a game for them that plays it. It's not for them outside to give a hand. That's Margery's motto.”
"I agree, Margery!”
How her eyes flashed! Trouble coming, dear as daylight. Mrs. Carolan born again. Imagine telling her all those years ago who she was to love! Funny how people forget what they were lite when they were young! Now Margery Green, she remembered all too well!
Katharine had dreams in her eyes; she was thinking of long days in the sunshine, riding out to the station; he came to meet her. At first he had pretended to think her just a foolish girl when together they had listened to Marcus. But when the Blue Mountains had been crossed, they both seemed to grow up suddenly. Marcus, deeply regretting that he had not been one of the gallant band that first crossed the mountains, told them the story in his inimitable way, and it was as exciting as though they themselves had found the road.
"No matter how difficult a project may seem," said Marcus, 'stick to it, and you'll get across as sure as men got across the Blue Mountains!”
She had ridden out to them, and kept her secret; she had planned and contrived, and it had been worth it. How she loved the sunny veranda and the talk of the two of them! Marcus smoking his Negrohead, drinking his grog, watching them, loving them, talking to them, welcoming her into his home. Sometimes he called her Carolan.
"That's my mother, you know. I'm Katharine.”
"Of course! Of course! I forgot. I used to know your mother once.”
And she had felt resentful towards Mamma, who, for no reason at all, had taken such a dislike to him, doubtless thinking him lacking in culture because he was not dabbling in politics, and did not attend the local functions, and was as different from Papa as it was possible for any man to be. Was Mamma perhaps a little snobbish? Her values were wrong surely since she tried to prevent her daughter's friendship with a man like Marcus. She knew that Mamma had come out on the transport ship; she could not help knowing. One of the girls at school told her; it was a great shock. It made her look upon convicts in a different way; at one time, she feared, she had thought them sub-human.
"Are convicts real men and women?" Martin had once asked. She had been rather like Martin. But Mamma had been a convict, and Marcus and Esther. Convicts were ordinary people, and two of them Marcus and Mamma were among those she loved the best in the world. So Mamma should not have been snobbish about Marcus. She felt a slight estrangement between herself and Mamma then, but afterwards when she drew from Margery the story of the First Wife, she warmed to Mamma again. Poor Mamma, a servant in this house where now she was mistress, and Papa unhappy with his first wife! What a different picture from the house as it was today, and how proud Mamma must have suffered! It was really a good thing when the First Wife died, and Papa discovered that he loved Mamma. Vaguely from a long way back she remembered a certain fear about the First Wife. What an inquisitive and imaginative little creature she must have been in those days! Probing; scenting mystery; drawing out Margery and Mamma and anyone who would respond in the smallest way! Then she had discovered Henry and Marcus, and the house with the veranda and they filled her thoughts. She did not remember thinking very much about the first floor after that.
What would Mamma say if she knew she had been present at their musters!