The Captives | Page 5

the curve of the hill fell away
the sky was faintly yellow; some cold stars like points of ice pierced
the higher blue; carelessly, as though with studied indifference, flakes
of snow fell, turning grey against the lamp-lit windows, then vanishing
utterly. Maggie, going to the window, saw a dark shapeless figure
beyond the glass. For an instant she was invaded by the terror of her
surprised loneliness, then she remembered her father and the warm
kitchen, then realised that this figure in the dark must be her Uncle
Mathew.
She went out into the hall, pushed back the stiff, clumsy handle of the
door, and stepped on to the gravel path. She called out, laughing:
"Come in! You frightened me out of my life."
As he came towards her she felt the mingled kindness and irritation that
he always roused in her. He stood in the light of the hall lamp, a fat
man, a soft hat pushed to the back of his head, a bag in one hand. His
face was weak and good-tempered, his eyes had once been fine but now
they were dim and blurred; there were dimples in his fat cheeks; he
wore on his upper lip a ragged and untidy moustache and he had two
indeterminate chins. His expression was mild, kindly, now a little
ashamed, now greatly indignant. It was a pity, as he often said, that he
had not more control over his feelings. Maggie saw at once that he was,
as usual, a little drunk.
"Well," she said. "Come in, Uncle. Father is in church, I think," she

added.
Uncle Mathew stepped with careful deliberation into the hall, put his
bag on a chair, and began a long, rambling explanation.
"You know, Maggie, that I would have sent you a post card if I had had
an idea, but, upon my soul, there I was suddenly in Drymouth on
important business. I thought to myself on waking this morning--I took
a room at the 'Three Tuns'--'Why, there are Charles and Maggie whom
I haven't seen for an age.' I'd have sent you a telegram but the truth is,
my dear, that I didn't want to spend a penny more than I must. Things
haven't been going so well with me of late. It's a long story. I want your
father's advice. I've had the worst of luck and I could tell you one or
two things that would simply surprise you--but anyway, there it is. Just
for a night I'm sure you won't mind. To-morrow or the day after I must
be back in town or this thing will slip right through my fingers. These
days one must be awake or one's simply nowhere."
He paused and nodded his head very solemnly at her, looking, as he did
so, serious and important.
It was thus that he always appeared, "for one night only," but staying
for weeks and weeks in spite of the indignant protests of his brother
Charles who had never liked him and grudged the expense of his visits.
Maggie herself took his appearance as she did everything else in her
life with good-tempered philosophy. She had an affection for her uncle;
she wished that he did not drink so much, but had he made a success of
life she would not have cared for him as she did. After all every one
had their weaknesses . . .
She steered her uncle into the dining-room and placed him on a chair
beside the fire. In all his movements he attempted restraints and dignity
because he knew that he was drunk but hoped that his niece, in spite of
her long experience of him, would not perceive it. At the same time he
knew that she did perceive it and would perhaps scold him about it.
This made him a little indignant because, after all, he had only taken
the tiniest drop--one drop at Drymouth, another at Liskane station, and
another at "The Hearty Cow" at Clinton St. Mary, just before his start

on his cold lonely walk to St. Dreot's. He hoped that he would prevent
her criticism by his easy pleasant talk, so on he chattered.
She sat down near him and continuing to sew smiled at him, wondered
what there was for dinner and the kind of mood that her father would
be in when he found his dear brother here.
Maggie Cardinal, at the time, was nineteen years of age. She was
neither handsome nor distinguished, plain indeed, although her mild,
good-natured eyes had in their light a quality of vitality and interest that
gave her personality; her figure was thick and square- -she would be
probably stout one day. She moved like a man. Behind the mildness of
her eyes there was much character and resolve