A Fatal Silence, Vol. 2 (of 3) by Florence Marryat

A VALIANT PARTISAN.

Dear, gentle Mrs Measures was seated in the vicarage drawing-room, engaged in needlework. She was one of those simple souls who neither need nor seek for excitement, but are always to be found when wanted -- neatly dressed whatever the hour of the day, and ready with a quiet welcome for their visitors. Mrs Measures was rather anxious about Paula just then, and as she stitched away at the vicar's shirts she was thinking very earnestly about her. During all her uneventful married life she had never conceived so deep an interest in anyone as in Hal Rushton's wife. She had never believed a word against her, and she never would. Whatever might have been equivocal in her actions whilst she was the school teacher of Deepdale, Mrs Measures felt sure could be easily explained if Paula chose to explain it, and the only puzzling part of it to the vicar's wife was that she had _not_ so chosen. It had seemed to her simple mind such an easy way by which to set matters right with everyone. But Paula had elected otherwise, and the affair had almost faded from Mrs Measures' mind. The girl was married now, and in quite a different position of life. What was worrying her friend about her at the present moment was her utter abandonment to her grief for her mother's death. It was so hopeless -- so unresigned -- that it seemed wicked in Mrs Measures' sight. She had seen her several times -- Paula would not deny herself to this her best and dearest friend in Deepdale -- but her visits had not been calculated to make either of them happier. Paula's violent outbursts of despair, of self-reproach, even of questioning the goodness of the Hand that had laid the bereavement upon her, had shocked and grieved Mary Measures, who under similar circumstances would have bowed her head to the storm, and let all God's waves go over her. She did not blame her young friend, whose sorrow was evidently genuine, but she felt unhappy about her, and wished she would open her heart freely, and see if together they could not discern some streak of light in the appalling darkness. But Paula was remarkably reserved even with Mrs Measures. The same determination not to open her lips that had displayed itself under her cross-examination by the vicar and the churchwardens seemed to have come over her again, and though she kept on moaning for her mother, she steadfastly refused to air the subject, or to enter into any details concerning it, and Mrs Measures believed that until she could bring herself to do so her grief would stand no chance of working its own cure. She was musing thus, sad, but very loyal to the girl she had learned to love, when Lady Bristowe's carriage stopped before the door. Mrs Measures did not particularly enjoy the society of Lady Bristowe, but in her capacity as the vicar's wife she felt bound to receive everybody, and so she rose with a smile to greet her as she entered the room. But her ladyship did not smile. Her face was very red with suppressed indignation and the autumn air, and as she sank into the best arm-chair she looked as vindictive as her fat, jolly cheeks would allow her to do. Mrs Measures perceived the difference in her at once.