She saw him as a desirable companion; she thought that he would make a most interesting friend; she would like to make her experiences of life with him at her side.She would be free and he would be free, but they would exchange confidences.
And then because she was very simple and had learnt nothing of the difference between the things that decent girls might do and the things they might not she began to consider the easiest way of meeting him.She intended to go to him simply as one human being to another and tell him that she liked him and hoped that they would often see one another.There were no confused issues nor questions of propriety before Maggie.Certainly she was aware that men took advantage of girls' weakness--but that was, as in the case of Uncle Mathew, when they had drunk too much--and it was the fault of the girls, too, for not looking after themselves.Maggie felt that she could look after herself anywhere.She was more afraid, by far, of her Aunt Anne than of any man.
It happened on the very day after that conversation with Mr.Magnus that Aunt Anne said at luncheon:
"I think, Maggie dear, if you don't mind, that you and I will pay a call on Mrs.Warlock this afternoon.You have not been there yet.
To-day will be a very good opportunity."
Maggie's mind flew at once to her clothes.She had been with Caroline Smith to that young lady's dressmaker, a thin and sharp-faced woman whose black dress gleamed with innumerable pins.Maggie had been pinched and measured, pulled in here and pulled out there.
Then there had been afternoons when she had been "fitted" under Caroline's humorous and critical eye.Finally the dress had been delivered, only two days ago, in a long card-board box; it waited now for the great occasion.
The great occasion had, in the guise of the Warlock family, surely arrived.Maggie's heart beat as she went up to her room.When at last she was wearing the dress, standing before her mirror, her cheeks were red and her hands shook a little.
The dress was very fine--simple of course and quite plain, but elegant as no dress of Maggie's had ever been elegant.There surely could not anywhere be a more perfect black dress, and yet, as Maggie gazed, she was aware that there was something not quite right.She was always straightforward with herself; yes, the thing that was not quite right was her own stupid shape.Her figure was too square, her back was too short, her hands too large.She had a moment of acute disgust with herself so that she could have torn the dress from her and rushed into her old obscure and dingy black again.Of what use to dress her up? She would always look wrong, always be awkward and ungainly...tears of disappointment gathered slowly in her eyes.
Then her pride reasserted itself; she raised her head proudly and laughed at her anxious gaze.There was still her new hat.She took it from the bed and put it on, sticking big pins into it, moving back from the mirror, then forward again, turning her back, standing on her toes, suddenly bowing to herself and waving her hand.
She was caught thus, laughing into the mirror, by old Martha, who pushed her sour face through the door and said: "They've been waiting this long time for you, Miss.""All right, Martha," Maggie answered sharply, annoyed that she should be found, posturing and bowing, by the woman."Why didn't you knock?""I did knock, Miss.You were that occupied you didn't hear me." The old woman was grinning.
Maggie went downstairs, her heart still beating, her cheeks still flushed.She did hope that Aunt Anne would be pleased.Aunt Anne, although she never said anything about clothes, must, of course, notice such things, and if she loved Maggie as Mr.Magnus said she did, then she would "show her approval." The girl stood for a moment on the bottom step of the staircase looking at her aunt who was waiting for her in the little dark hall.
"Well, dear--I'm waiting," she said.
The burning eyes of Thomas the cat watched from the deep shadows.
"I'm so sorry.I was dressing," said Maggie.
Her aunt said nothing more and they left the house.
Maggie, as always when she walked with Aunt Anne, was aware that they made a strange couple, she so short and the other so tall, she with her sturdy masculine walk, her aunt with her awkward halting movement.They went in silence.
Maggie longed for a word of approval; a short sentence such as "How nice you're looking, Maggie," or "I like your dress, Maggie," or "That's a new dress, dear--I like it," would be enough.After that Maggie felt that she could face a multitude of wild and savage Warlocks, that she could walk into the Warlock drawing-room with a fine brave carriage, above all, that she would feel a sudden warm affection for her aunt that would make all their future life together easy.
But Aunt Anne said nothing.She looked exactly as she had looked upon her first appearance at St.Dreots, so thin and tall, with her pale tapering face and her eyes staring before her as though they saw nothing.
Maggie, as they turned up into Garrick Street, said:
"I hope you like my new dress, aunt."
Aunt Anne turned to her for a moment, smiled gently and then vaguely, as though her mind were elsewhere, answered:
"I liked your old dress better, dear."
Maggie's face flamed; her temper flared into her eyes.For a moment she had wild thoughts of breaking into open rebellion.She hated her dress, she hated London, above all, she hated Aunt Anne.That lady's happy unconsciousness that anything had occurred drove the girl into furious irritation.Well, it was hopeless then, Mr.Magnus could say what he pleased, her aunt did not care for her--she would not mind did she fall dead in the street before her.The words in Maggie's mind were: "You don't look at me.I'm not a human being to you at all.But I won't live with you.I'll go my own way.You can't keep me if you never speak to me nor think of me." But in some dark fashion that strange impassivity held her.Aunt Anne had her power...
They climbed the dim crooked staircase behind the antiquary's wall.