In course of time Uncle Joseph came as was arranged, and on the day
following Maddy and Guy rode down to see him, finding him a tall,
powerfully built man, retaining many vestiges of manly beauty, and
fully warranting all Mrs. Markham had said in his praise. He seemed
perfectly gentle and harmless, though when Guy was announced as Mr.
Remington, Maddy noticed that in his keen black eyes there was for an
instant a fiery gleam, but it quickly passed away, as he muttered: "Much too young; he was older than I, and I am over forty. It's all
right."
And the fiery eye grew soft and almost sleepy in its expression, as
the poor lunatic turned next to Maddy, telling her how pretty she was,
asking if she were engaged, and bidding her be careful that her
_fiance_ was not more than a dozen years older than herself.
Uncle Joseph seemed to take to her from the very first, following her
from room to room, touching her fair, soft cheeks, smoothing her
silken hair, telling her Sarah's used to curl, asking if she knew
where Sarah was, and finally crying for her as a child cries for its
mother, when at last she went away. Much of this Maddy had repeated to
Jessie, as in the twilight they sat together in the parlor at
Aikenside; and Jessie was not the only listener, for, with her face
resting on her hand, and her head bent eagerly forward, Agnes sat, so
as not to lose a word of what Maddy was saying of Uncle Joseph. The
intelligence that he was coming to the red cottage had been followed
with a series of headaches, so severe and protracted that Dr. Holbrook
had pronounced her really sick, and had been unusually attentive.
Anxiously she had waited for the result of Maddy's visit to the poor
lunatic, and her face was colorless as marble as she heard him
described, while a faint sigh escaped her when Maddy told what he had
said of Sarah.
Agnes was changed somewhat of late. She had grown more thoughtful and
quiet, while her manner toward Maddy was not as haughty as formerly.
Guy thought her improved, and thus was not so delighted as he would
otherwise have been, when, one day, about two weeks after Uncle
Joseph's arrival at Honedale, she startled him by saying she thought
it nearly time for her to return to Boston, if she meant to spend the
winter there, and asked what she should do with Jessie.
Guy was not quite willing for Agnes to leave him there alone, but when
he saw that she was determined, he consented to her going, with the
understanding that Jessie was to remain--a plan which Agnes did not
oppose, as a child so large as Jessie might stand in the way of her
being as gay as she meant to be in Boston. Jessie, too, when
consulted, said she would far rather stay at Aikenside; and so one
November morning, Agnes, wrapped in velvet and furs, kissed her little
daughter, and bidding good-by to Maddy and the servants, left a
neighborhood which, since Uncle Joseph was so near, had become so
intolerable that not even the hope of winning the doctor could avail
to keep her in it.