“And now, Maria, I want to know what is the meaning of all this,” said the Doctor.

It was late that night, very late. Polly was in bed, and Helen lay in her little white bed also close to Polly’s side, so close that the sisters could hold each other’s hands. They lay asleep now, breathing peacefully, and the Doctor, being satisfied that no serious mischief had happened to any of his family, meant to have it out with his sister-in-law.

Mrs. Cameron was a very brave woman, or at least she considered herself so; it was perfectly natural that people should fear her, she did not object to a little wholesome awe on the parts of those who looked up to her and depended[Pg 76] on her words of wisdom. To be afraid on her own part was certainly not her custom, and yet that evening, as she sat alone in the deserted old drawing-room, and listened to the wind as it rose fitfully and moaned through the belt of fir-trees that sheltered the lawn; as she sat there, pretending to knit, but listening all the time for footsteps which did not come, she did own to a feeling which she would not describe as fear, but which certainly kept her from going to bed, and made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.

It was about eleven o’clock that night when Dr. Maybright entered the drawing-room. He was a tall man with a slight stoop, and his eyes looked somewhat short-sighted. Tonight, however, he walked in quickly, holding himself erect. His eyes, too, had lost their peculiar expression of nearness of vision, and Mrs. Cameron knew at once that she was in for a bad time.

“And now, Maria, I want to know what is the meaning of all this,” he said, coming up close to her.

She was standing, having gathered up her knitting preparatory to retiring.

“I don’t understand you, Andrew,” she answered, in a somewhat complaining, but also slightly alarmed voice. “I think it is I who have to ask for an explanation. How is it that I have been left alone this entire evening? I had much to say to you—I came here on purpose, and yet you left me to myself all these hours.”

“Sit down, Maria,” said the Doctor, more gently. “I can give you as much time as you can desire now, and as you will be leaving in the morning it is as well that we should have our talk out to-night.”

Mrs. Cameron’s face became now really crimson with anger.

“You can say words like that to me?” she said—“your wife’s sister.”

“My dear wife’s half-sister, and until now my very good friend,” retorted the Doctor. “But, however well you have meant it, you have sown dissension and unhappiness in the midst of a number of motherless children, and for the present at least, for all parties, I must ask you, Maria, to return to Bath.”

Mrs. Cameron sank now plump down into her chair. She was too deeply offended for a moment to speak. Then she said, shortly:

“I will certainly return, but from this moment I wash my hands of you all.”

“I hope not,” said the Doctor. “I trust another time you will come to me as my welcome and invited guest. You see, Maria”—here his eyes twinkled with that sly humor which characterized him—“it was a mistake—it always is a mistake to take the full reins of government in any house uninvited.”

“But, Andrew, you were making such a fool of yourself.[Pg 77] After that letter of yours I felt almost hopeless, so for poor Helen’s sake I came, at great personal inconvenience. Your home is most dreary, the surroundings appalling in their solitude. No wonder Helen died! Andrew, I thought it but right to do my best for those poor children. I came, the house was in a state of riot, you have not an idea what Polly’s conduct was. Disrespectful, insolent, impertinent. I consider her an alm............