There was another thing, a thing which portended such sorrow that she had locked it tightly within herself until her tears released it. To their son William did not show the affection and playfulness she had anticipated. He was not unkind – he was a fine man, after all – but rather uninterested. He glanced into the cradle as if lifting a forcing pot from over a young rhubarb plant, with a certain mild anticipation; but no more. She had noticed that he did not seem to want to hold the baby, but this reluctance she had ascribed to his injury. Now it seemed clear to her that little George did not gladden his father’s heart as he did her own. At this apprehension Alice felt more alone than she had since the death of her mother and father. The weeping came with the force she had last known on the evening of the day when her husband went off to war, and for the same reason. William had gone away from her.

7.

The death of the older Mr Gale came of a sudden in the spring of 1858. A chill had advanced with alarming rapidity into a fever; his breathing had faltered, then failed. Alice had no heart for a move to the big house, for The Grange had been the home she had come to as a bride and where she had resided since; it was inexpressibly dear to her. Here George had been conceived and born, here she had waited every morning for the post, hoping for a letter from William from the Black Sea. Here she had dreamed of the life they would have together when he returned. She was much attached to the garden and to the green fields and rising hills beyond, which made such a pleasing view through the windows. Her husband prevaricated. It was mooted that Caroline would take over The Grange, while the widowed Mrs Gale would remain at the big house, with her son and his family installed. But the season changed to summer and still no preparations were made for the move. By this delay Alice had hopes that her wish to remain at The Grange might indeed be realized.

George kept her much at home and she did not venture to see her Aunt Felicity in Cheltenham, nor to invite Dr Nolan to call upon them there. In truth Caroline’s words had shaken her. As much as she knew herself to be innocent of any impropriety in her conduct with the doctor, still she was loath to pursue a friendship which had been so cruelly misconstrued. In early June, however, she received from him a letter: