Book 6 - Chapter 13

Borne Along by the Tide

In less than a week Maggie was at St. Ogg's again,--outwardly in much
the same position as when her visit there had just begun. It was easy
for her to fill her mornings apart from Lucy without any obvious
effort; for she had her promised visits to pay to her aunt Glegg, and
it was natural that she should give her mother more than usual of her
companionship in these last weeks, especially as there were
preparations to be thought of for Tom's housekeeping. But Lucy would
hear of no pretext for her remaining away in the evenings; she must
always come from aunt Glegg's before dinner,--"else what shall I have
of you?" said Lucy, with a tearful pout that could not be resisted.

And Mr. Stephen Guest had unaccountably taken to dining at Mr. Deane's
as often as possible, instead of avoiding that, as he used to do. At
first he began his mornings with a resolution that he would not dine
there, not even go in the evening, till Maggie was away. He had even
devised a plan of starting off on a journey in this agreeable June
weather; the headaches which he had constantly been alleging as a
ground for stupidity and silence were a sufficient ostensible motive.
But the journey was not taken, and by the fourth morning no distinct
resolution was formed about the evenings; they were only foreseen as
times when Maggie would still be present for a little while,--when one
more touch, one more glance, might be snatched. For why not? There was
nothing to conceal between them; they knew, they had confessed their
love, and they had renounced each other; they were going to part.
Honor and conscience were going to divide them; Maggie, with that
appeal from her inmost soul, had decided it; but surely they might
cast a lingering look at each other across the gulf, before they
turned away never to look again till that strange light had forever
faded out of their eyes.

Maggie, all this time, moved about with a quiescence and even torpor
of manner, so contrasted with her usual fitful brightness and ardor,
that Lucy would have had to seek some other cause for such a change,
if she had not been convinced that the position in which Maggie stood
between Philip and her brother, and the prospect of her self-imposed
wearisome banishment, were quite enough to account for a large amount
of depression. But under this torpor there was a fierce battle of
emotions, such as Maggie in all her life of struggle had never known
or foreboded; it seemed to her as if all the worst evil in her had
lain in ambush till now, and had suddenly started up full-armed, with
hideous, overpowering strength! There were moments in which a cruel
selfishness seemed to be getting possession of her; why should not
Lucy, why should not