into everything,
and even made a gentle boast that Geoff understood better than she did.
It was only when Mr. Longstaffe and her clergyman simultaneously snubbed
her that this foolish woman came to herself. Mr. Longstaffe said, in his
brusque way, that he thought Master Geoff--he begged his pardon, little
Lord Markland--would be better at his lessons; while Mr. Scarsdale put
on a very grave air, and remarked that he feared Dickinson might have
things to tell his mistress which were not fit for a little boy's ears.
This last address had disconcerted the young mother sadly, and cost her
some tears; for she was as innocent as Geoff, and the idea that there
were in the village things to tell her that were unfit for the child's
ears threw her into daily terror, not only for him, but for herself.
This was one of the things that made it apparent that a new rule was
necessary. Her business grew day by day, as she began to understand it
better, and the lessons fell more and more into the background. Geoff
was the soul of loyalty, and did not complain. He developed a quite new
faculty of silence, as he sat at his table in the window, now and then
stealing a glance at her to see if she were free. That little figure,
seated against the light, was all that Lady Markland had to cheer her,
as she set out upon this new and stony path of life. He represented
everything that made her task possible and her burden grateful to her.
Without him always there in the background, what, she asked herself,
would existence be to her? She asked herself this question when it first
began to be suggested by her friends that Geoff should be sent to school.
It is one special feature in the change and downfall that happens to a
woman when she becomes a widow that all her friends find themselves at
liberty to advise her. However bad or useless her husband may be, so
long as he lives she is safe from this exercise of friendship; but
when he is dead all mouths are opened. Mr. Scarsdale paid her a visit
solemnly, in order to deliver his soul in this respect. "I came on
purpose," he said, as if that was an additional virtue, "to speak to
you, dear Lady Markland, very seriously about Geoff." And whether it was
by his own impulse, or because he was written to on the subject, and
inspired by zealous friends nearer home, old Mr. Markland wrote to his
dear niece in the same strain, assuring her that it would be far the
best thing to send him to school. To school! Her