But when deep peace broods over a dwelling, it is from the Mary Lothians of England that it comes.
Mary was very simply dressed, but there was an indescribable air of distinction about her. The skirt of white piqué hung perfectly, the cream-coloured blouse with drawn-thread work at the neck and wrists was fresh and dainty. On her head was a panama hat with a scarf of mauve silk tied loosely round it and hanging down her back in two long ends.
In one hand she held a silver-headed walking cane, in the other a small prayer-book, for she was going to matins before breakfast.
She spoke a word to the cook and went out of the back door, calling a good-morning to Tumpany as she passed his shed, and then went through the entrance-gate into the village street.
By this hour the labourers were all at work in the fields and farmyards--the hay harvest was over and the corn cutting about to begin--but the cottage doors were open and the children were gathering in little groups, ready to proceed to school.
There was a fresh smell of wood-smoke in the air and the gardens of the cottages were brilliant with flowers.
Mary Lothian, however, was thinking very little about the village--to which she was Lady Bountiful. She hardly noticed the sweet day springing over the country side.
He had been away for a week now and she had heard no news of him except for a couple of brief telegrams.
For several days before he went to London, she had seen the signs of restlessness and ennui approaching. She knew them well. He had been irritable and moody by fits and starts. After lunch he had slept away the afternoons, and at dinner he had been feverishly gay. Once or twice he had driven into Wordingham--the local town--during the afternoon, and had returned late at night, very angry on one of these occasions to find her sitting up for him.
"I wish to goodness you would go to bed, Mary," he had said with a sullen look in his eyes. "I do hate being fussed over as if I were a child. I hate my comings and goings spied upon in this ridiculous way. I must have freedom! Kindly try and remember that you have married a poet--an artist!--and not some beef-brained ordinary fool!"
The servants had gone to bed, but she had lit candles in old silver holders, and spread a dainty supper for him in case he should be hungry, taking especial care over the egg sandwiches and the salad which he said she made so perfectly.