It was cruel penance to the mother, this parting; worse than it could have been to the child. Those who understand the affection of some French mothers for their children, and who remember that the little ones never leave their side, will know what this must have been for Charlotte Guise. She saw Marie at a distance on the following day, Sunday--for it happened to be Saturday that the child went in. The little church was filled at the three o'clock afternoon service, when Parson Marston gabbled through the prayers and the sermon to the edification of his flock. Little Marie sat in the large pew with the Grey ladies, between Sister Mary Ursula in her black attire, and Sister Betsey in her grey. The latter who had a special love for children, had taken the little one under her particular charge. Marie was in black also: and a keen observer might have fancied there was some sort of likeness between her and the stately Head Sister beside her. The child looked happy and contented. To the scandal of the surrounders, no doubt far more to them than to that of the Parson himself, whose mouth widened with a laugh, she, happening to espy out her mother when they were standing up to say the belief, extended her hands, called out "Maman! maman!" and began to nod incessantly. Sister Betsey succeeded in restoring decorum.
Madame Guise sat with Mr. and Mrs. Bent, occupying the post of honour at the top of the pew. After that, she strove to hide herself from Marie. In the square, crimson-curtained pew pertaining to Greylands' Rest, the only pew in the church with any pretensions to grandeur, sat the Master of Greylands and his family: his wife with a pinched face, for she had contrived to take cold; Harry, tall as himself, free and fascinating; Flora staring about with the plaster patches on her face; and Ethel Reene, devout, modest, lovely. They were all in black: the mourning worn for Mr. Peter Castlemaine. Their servants, also in mourning, occupied a pew behind that of the Grey Ladies. It might have been noticed that Mr. Castlemaine never once turned his head towards these ladies: he had never favoured them, and the step taken by his niece in joining their society had vexed him more materially than he would have liked to say. He had his private reasons for it: he had cause to wish those ladies backs turned on Greylands; but he had no power to urge their departure openly, or to send them by force away.