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Updated: June 12, 2025
Captain Merton dined with them that evening, and young Harry Evans, son of a neighbouring squire; and Herbert Vaughan was still at Merriston, the masculine equivalent of Mildred and Dorothy, an exquisitely appointed youth, frank and boisterous, with charming, candid eyes, and the figure of an Adonis.
It was at Merriston, installed, apparently, so happily with her friends, that the second group of impressions became clearer for her than it had been in London, when she had herself made part of it the group that had to do with Helen, Franklin, and herself. In London, among all the wider confusions, this smaller but more intense one had not struck her as it did seeing it from a distance.
Another enlargement there was, but it seemed purely personal and occupied his thoughts far less. He waited now upon the doorstep of old Miss Buchanan's London house, and he had come there to call upon young Miss Buchanan. The memory of Helen's unobtrusive, wonderfully understanding kindness to him during his last days at Merriston, remained for him as the only bright spot in a desolate blankness.
The garden, she said, was shamefully neglected, and she could not conceive how people could bear to let a decent place like this go to ruin. 'But he's a slack creature, Gerald Digby, I've heard. Althea coldly explained that Mr. Digby was too poor to live at Merriston and to keep it up. She did not herself in the least mind the shabbiness. 'Oh, I don't mind it, said Miss Buckston.
It was not 'frusty. Althea had a scientific regard for ventilation, and a damp breeze from the garden blew in at the furthest window. She had quite enough air. Miss Buckston was also very critical of Merriston House, and pointed out the shabbiness of the chintz and faded carpets.
'I'm very glad indeed to see you, he said gravely, despite himself, and scanning her face; 'it seems a very long time. 'Does that mean that you have been doing a great deal? 'Yes; and I suppose it means that I've missed you a great deal, too, said Franklin. 'I got into the habit of you at Merriston; I feel it's queer not to find you in a chair under a tree every day.
And now, rather breathlessly, as if after a race hardly won, Franklin answered: 'Well, I guess you can leave the rest to me. Gerald had decided to stay on for another week at Merriston and to come up to town with Althea, and she fancied that the reason for his decision was that he found Sally Arlington such very good company.
And now, apathetic, yet irritated, exhausted and sick at heart, she had been telling herself, as she lay in the garden-chairs at Merriston House, that it was more than probable that the time was over, even for the 'other things. The prospect made her weary. What with Aunt Grizel's one hundred and fifty a year was she to do with herself in the future? What was to become of her?
She was, for her own little circle, quite important in Boston. At Merriston House she would be important only as Gerald Digby's wife and as the mistress of his home, and that indeed this was another slightly confusing fact would not be great importance. Even in Boston, she had felt, her importance was still entirely personal; she had gained none from her coming marriage.
He expected to find his world just as he would have it, his cushion at his head and his footstool at his feet, the wife in her place fulfilling her comely duties, the spinster friend in hers, administering balms and counsels; the wife at Merriston House, and the spinster friend in the little sitting-room where, for so many years, he had come to her with all his moods and misfortunes.
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