Thistle and Rose | Page 6

the back of her head. Nothing could make it lie flat
and smooth, however, and in spite of all Delia's efforts, it curled and
twisted itself defiantly wherever it had a chance. Perhaps, by doing so,
it helped to soften a face which would have been a little hard without
the good-tempered expression which generally filled the bright brown
eyes.
"That sort of marriage never answers," said Mrs Winn, as Delia reached
her mother's side. "Just see what unhappiness it caused. It was a bitter
blow to Mr and Mrs Forrest; it made poor old Mr Goodwin miserable,
and separated him from his only child; and as to Prissy herself--well,
the poor thing didn't live to find out her mistake, and left her little
daughter to feel the consequences of it."
"Poor little motherless darling," murmured Mrs Hunt.--"Del, my love,
go on with my work a little, while I say a few words to old Mrs Crow."
Delia took her mother's place, threaded her needle, raised her eyebrows
with an amused air, as she examined the work accomplished, and bent
her head industriously over it.
"Doesn't it seem quite impossible," said Miss Gibbins, "to realise that
Prissy's daughter is really coming to Waverley to-morrow! Why, it
seems the other day that I saw Prissy married in Dornton church!"
"It must be fifteen years ago at the least," said Mrs Winn, in such deep
tones that they seemed to roll round the room. "The child must be
fourteen years old."
"She wore grey cashmere," said Miss Gibbins, reflectively, "and a little
white bonnet. And the sun streamed in upon her through the painted
window. I remember thinking she looked like a dove. I wonder if the
child is like her."
"The Forrests have never taken much notice of Mr Goodwin, since the
marriage," said Mrs Hurst, "but I suppose, now his grandchild is to live

there, all that will be altered."
Delia looked quickly up at the speaker, but checked the words on her
lips, and said nothing.
"You can't do away with the ties of blood," said Mrs Winn; "the child's
his grandchild. You can't ignore that."
"Why should you want to ignore it?" asked Delia, suddenly raising her
eyes and looking straight at her.
The attack was so unexpected that Mrs Winn had no answer ready. She
remained speechless, with her large grey eyes wider open than usual,
for quite a minute before she said, "These are matters, Delia, which you
are too young to understand."
"Perhaps I am," answered Delia; "but I can understand one thing very
well, and that is, that Mr Goodwin is a grandfather that any one ought
to be proud of, and that, if his relations are not proud of him, it is
because they're not worthy of him."
"Oh, well," said Miss Gibbins, shaking her head rather nervously as she
looked at Delia, "we all know what a champion Mr Goodwin has in you,
Delia. `Music with its silver sound' draws you together, as Shakespeare
says. And, of course, we're all proud of our organist in Dornton, and, of
course, he has great talent. Still, you know, when all's said and done, he
is a music-master, and in quite a different position from the Forrests."
"Socially," said Mrs Winn, placing her large, white hand flat on the
table beside her, to emphasise her words, "Mr Goodwin is not on the
same footing. When Delia is older she will know what that means."
"I know it now," replied Delia. "I never consider them on the same
footing at all. There are plenty of clergymen everywhere, but where
could you find any one who can play the violin like Mr Goodwin?"
She fixed her eyes with innocent inquiry on Mrs Winn. Mrs Hurst
bridled a little.

"I do think," she said, "that clergymen occupy a position quite apart. I
like Mr Goodwin very much. I've always thought him a nice old
gentleman, and Herbert admires his playing, but--"
"Of course, of course," said Mrs Winn, "we must be all agreed as to
that.--You're too fond, my dear Delia, of giving your opinion on
subjects where ignorance should keep you silent. A girl of your age
should try to behave herself, lowly and reverently, to all her betters."
"So I do," said Delia, with a smile; "in fact, I feel so lowly and reverent
sometimes, that I could almost worship Mr Goodwin. I am ready to
humble myself to the dust, when I hear him playing the violin."
Mrs Winn was preparing to make a severe answer to this, when Miss
Gibbins, who was tired of being silent, broke adroitly in, and changed
the subject.
"You missed a treat last Thursday, Mrs Winn, by losing the
Shakespeare reading. It was rather far to get out to Pynes, to