Chapter V
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 13 March 2025
Summary
THE next day and the next again passed as if nothing had happened, except that Mr Mather kept his room, and both his wife and Katharine were almost always up stairs. With the latter, indeed, I had no opportunity of holding any private conversation; but the constraint and unhappiness of her looks were sufficiently marked by me, and I believe by all the house besides. On the third morning, a note was put into my hands as I was getting up. It was in my aunt's handwriting, and consisted of a single sentence, which I believe I can give you verbatim:—“It is Mr Mather's desire, that, when he appears today, nothing whatever may be said in allusion to late events, nor ever henceforth. Observe this for the sake of us all. M. M.”
I determined to adhere to this rule most rigidly; and on entering the breakfast parlour, saluted Mr Mather, who was already seated at the table, as nearly as was possible in the same manner I should have done a week before. He also dissembled, though not—any more than myself, it is probable—with perfect success. He smiled, and said his “good morning” in much his usual note; and once or twice during breakfast asked for bread, salt, &c. from me, with an air of great indifference. But how deadly pale was his cheek! and once or twice when my glance was drawn towards him suddenly and furtively, I saw the fire that was glowing deep down in his fixed eyeballs, and marked the quivering malice that struggled with a faint smile upon his lips. The blood he had lost had evidently had a considerable effect on his nerves as well as his complexion; for I have seen him play his part in situations of this kind in much superior style.
The Minister said prayers after breakfast, according to custom, and withdrew immediately to his own room, without saying a word about lessons—in fact, I heard no more about anything of the sort for several weeks. Katharine, however, told me that hers were going on in the old way. She whispered this to me one day when I met her on the staircase with her book in her hand. Poor Katharine! her eyes were often red.
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- Information
- The History of Matthew WaldJohn Gibson Lockhart, pp. 17 - 22Publisher: Edinburgh University PressPrint publication year: 2023