III MAUD MAUD was her mother's idol, and a fair idol. Her soft young face, red lips and glossy curls, her smiles and dimples, her quick, graceful movements, her delicate fondlings, were all verses in the sweet poem sent to Mrs. Devereux in compensation for her early widow hood. Of course, Mrs. Devereux's friends considered Maud "spoilt," that Maud would grow up self-willed and captious, that her mother would ruin her by indulgence and by letting her have her own way in everything. And it was true that she indulged Maud to the fullest possible extent. The girl's life became a perfect litany of love, caresses and gentle words her only portion. She knew herself from the very first day of her babyhood the light of her mother's eyes, the heart of her mother's heart. That young widow, fair and young though she was, had no wish for other love-words than Maud's, no thought for other lovers than the baby lover who clambered on her knees. Maud, waking in the night, would never wake to find herself alone among the shadows. Against the glow of the night-light she would always see that mother face looking down on her, smiling on her, guarding her, watching her as the one treasure dearest on earth. This was Maud's education. Was it a bad one? Time answered that question, answered it definitely. Maud was never punished in her childhood. If she did not learn her lessons freely, then the lessons would be put away. If she broke her toys and wept to see the doll with its battered head, or the tea-set with its broken cups, her mother would cry with her, understanding the trouble a great one. A new doll would be bought; or the tea-set mended, and Maud would have all the happiness of cementing it together. Or they would pretend there had been a dinnerparty, and that the servant had fallen upstairs with the tray, and then Maud would scold her or inquire in a little squeaky voice if she were hurt: and Mrs. Devereux would be the servant and excuse herself ;—and so that trouble too would be turned into a pleasure. And from childhood, Maud grew to girlhood. What her education had done for her was to develop a sympathy and a gentleness to all humanity-echo of the mother-love whose words had been music to her baby ears. |