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It was natural that her aunt should wish to return to London as soon as possible。 For one thing； Ellen the cook had packed her clothes and retired to some place in the village； there to await the departure of the defeated family。 Then the house was not only unpleasant by reason of its atmosphere and associations； but there were also the definite discomforts of roofs through which the rain dripped and floors that swayed beneath one's tread。 Moreover； Aunt Elizabeth did not care to be left alone in the London house。
Uncle Mathew left on the day after the funeral。 He had one little last conversation with Maggie。
〃I hope you'll be happy in London；〃 he said。
〃I hope so；〃 said Maggie。
〃I know you'll do what you can to help your aunts。〃 Then he went on more nervously。 〃Think of me sometimes。 I shan't be able to come and see you very often； you knowtoo busy。 But I shall like to know that you're thinking about me。〃
Maggie's new…found resolution taken so defiantly upon the moor was suddenly severely tested。 She felt as though her uncle were leaving her to a world of enemies。 She drove down her sense of desolation； and he saw nothing but her quiet composure。
〃Of course I'll think of you；〃 she answered。 〃And you must come often。〃
〃They don't like me；〃 he said； nodding his head towards where Aunt Anne might be supposed to be waiting。 〃It's not my fault altogether… …but they have severe ideas。 It's religion； of course。〃
She suddenly seemed to see in his eyes some terror or despair； as though he knew that he was going to drop 〃this time〃farther than ever before。
She caught his arm。 〃Uncle Mathew； what are you going to do？ Where will you live？ Take my three hundred pounds if it will help you。 I don't want it just now。 Keep it for me。〃
He had a moment of resolute； clear…sighted honesty。 〃No； my dear； if I had it it would go in a week。 I can't keep money； I never could。 I'm really better without any。 I'm all right。 You'll never get rid of medon't you fear。 We've got more in common than you think； although you're a good girl and I've gone to pieces a bit。 All the same there's plenty worse than me。 Your aunt； for all her religion； is damned difficult for a plain man to get along with。 Most people would find me better company； after all。 One last word； Maggie。〃
He bent down and whispered to her。 〃Don't you go getting caught by that sweep who runs their chapel up in London。 He's a humbug if ever there was oneyou mark my words。 I know a thing or two。 He's done your aunts a lot of harm； and he'll have his dirty fingers on you if you let him。〃
So he departed； his last kiss mingled with the usual aroma of whisky and tobacco； his last attitude； as he turned away； that strange confusion of assumed dignity and natural genial stupidity that was so especially his。
Maggie turned； with all her new defiant resolution； to face the world alone with her Aunt Anne。 Throughout the next day she was busied with collecting her few possessions； with her farewells to the one or two people in the village who had been kind to her； and with little sudden； almost surreptitious visits to corners of the house； the garden； the wood where she had at one time or another been happy。
As the evening fell and a sudden storm of rain leapt up from beneath the hill and danced about the house； she had a wild longing to stay… …to stay at any cost and in any discomfort。 London had no longer interest； but only terror and dismay。 She ran out into the dark and rain…drenched garden； felt her way to an old and battered seat that had seen in older days dolls' tea…parties and the ravages of bad… temper； stared from it across the kitchen…garden to the lights of the village； that seemed to rock and shiver in the wind and rain。
She stared passionately at the lights； her heart beating as though it would suffocate her。 At last； her clothes soaked with the storm； her hair dripping； she returned to the house。 Her aunt was in the hall。
〃My dear Maggie； where have you been？〃 in a voice that was kind but aghast。
〃In the garden；〃 said Maggie； hating her aunt。
〃But it's pouring with rain！ You're soaking！ You must change at once！ Did you go out to find something？〃
Maggie made no answer。 She stood there； her face sulky and closed； the water dripping from her。 Afterwards； as she changed her clothes； she reflected that there had been many occasions during these three days when her aunt would have felt irritation with her had she known her longer。 She had always realised that she was careless； that when she should be thinking of one thing she thought of another； that her housekeeping and management of shops and servants had been irregular and undisciplined； but until now she had not sharply surveyed her weaknesses。 Since the coming of her aunt she had been involved in a perfect network of little blunders； she had gone out of the room without shutting the door； had started into the village on an errand； and then； when she was there； had forgotten what it was； there had been holes in her stockings and rents in her blouses。 After Ellen's departure she had endeavoured to help in the kitchen； but had made so many mistakes that Aunt Anne and the kitchen…maid had been compelled to banish her。 She now wondered how during so many years she had run the house at all； but then her father had cared about nothing so that money was not wasted。 She knew that Aunt Anne excused her mistakes just now because of the shock of her father's death and the events that followed it； but Maggie knew also that these faults were deep in her character。 She could explain it quite simply to herself by saying that behind the things that she saw there was always something that she did not see； something of the greatest importance and just beyond her vision； in her efforts to catch this farther thing she forgot what was immediately in front of her。 It had always been so。 Since a tiny child she had always supposed that the shapes and forms with which she was presented were only masks to hide the real thing。 Such a view might lend interest to life； but it certainly made one careless； and although Uncle Mathew might understand it and put it down to the Cardinal imagination； she instinctively knew that Aunt Anne； unless Maggie definitely attributed it to religion； would be dismayed and even； if it persisted； angered。 Maggie had not； after all； the excuse and defence of being a dreamy child。 With her square body and plain face； her clear； unspeculative eyes； her stolid movements； she could have no claim to dreams。 With a sudden desolate pang Maggie suspected that Uncle Mathew was the only person who would ever understand her。 Well； then； she must train herself。
She would close doors； turn out lights； put things back where she found them； mend her clothes； keep accounts。 Indeed a new life was beginning for her。 She felt； with a sudden return to the days before her walk on the moor； that if only her aunts would love her she would improve much more rapidly。 And then with her new independence she assured herself that if they did not love her she most certainly would not love them 。 。 。
That night she sat opposite her aunt beside the fire。 The house lay dead and empty behind them。 Aunt Anne was so