April. Mark's ship had left Port Said nine days ago.
Mamma had come in with the letter.
"I've got news for you. Guess."
"Mark's coming to-day."
"No.... Mr. Jourdain was married yesterday."
"Who--to?"
"Some girl he used to see in Sussex."
(That one. She was glad it was the little girl, the poor one. Nice of
Maurice to marry her.)
"Do you mind, Mary?"
"No, not a bit. I hope they'll be happy. I want them to be happy.... Now,
you see--that was why he didn't want to marry me."
Her mother sat down on the bed. There was something she was going to say.
"Well--thank goodness that's the last of it."
"Does Mark know?"
"No, he does not. You surely don't imagine anybody would tell him a thing
like that about his sister?"
"Like what?"
"Well--he wouldn't think it very nice of you."
"You talk as if I was Aunt Charlotte.... Do you think I'm like her?"
"I never said you were like her...."
"You think--you think and won't say."
"Well, if you don't want to be thought like your Aunt Charlotte you
should try and behave a little more like other people. For pity's sake,
do while Mark's here, or he won't like it, I can tell you."
"I don't do anything Mark wouldn't like."
"You do very queer things sometimes, though you mayn't think so.... I'm
not the only one that notices. If you really want to know, that was what
Mr. Jourdain was afraid of--the queer things you say and do. You told me
yourself you'd have gone to him if he hadn't come to you."
She remembered. Yes, she had said that.
"Did he know about Aunt Charlotte?"
"You may be sure he did."
Mamma didn't know. She never would know what it had been like, that
night. But there were things you didn't know, either.
"What did Aunt Charlotte _do_?"
"Nothing. She just fell in love with every man she met. If she'd only
seen him for five minutes she was off after him. Ordering her trousseau
and dressing herself up. She was no more mad than I am except just on
that one point."
"Aunt Lavvy said that was why Uncle Victor never married. He was afraid
of something--something happening to his children. What do you think he
thought would happen?"
Her mother's foot tapped on the floor.
"I'm sure I can't tell you what he thought. And I don't know what there
was to be afraid of. I wish you wouldn't throw your stockings all about
the room."
Mamma picked up the stockings and went away. You could see that she was
annoyed. Annoyed with Uncle Victor for having been afraid to marry.
A dreadful thought came to her. "Does Mamma really think I'm like Aunt
Charlotte? I won't be like her. I won't.... I'm not. There was Jimmy and
there was Maurice Jourdain. But I didn't fall in love with the Proparts
or the Manistys, or Norman Waugh, or Harry Craven, or Dr. Charles. Or Mr.
Sutcliffe.... She _said_ I was as bad as Aunt Charlotte. Because I said
I'd go to Maurice.... I meant, just to see him. What did she think I
meant?... Oh, not _that_.... Would I really have gone? Got into the train
and gone? _Would_ I?"
She would never know.
"I wish I knew what Uncle Victor was afraid of."
Wondering what he had been afraid of, she felt afraid.