"Experience, like a pale musician, holdsA dulcimer of patience in his hand;Whence harmonies we cannot understand,Of God"s will in His worlds, the strain unfoldsIn sad, perplexed minors."
MRS. BROWNING.
About this time Dixon returned from Milton, and assumed her post asMargaret"s maid. She brought endless pieces of Milton gossip: HowMartha had gone to live with Miss Thornton, on the latter"s marriage;with an account of the bridesmaids, dresses and breakfasts, at thatinteresting ceremony; how people thought that Mr. Thornton had madetoo grand a wedding of it, considering he had lost a deal by the strike,and had had to pay so much for the failure of his contracts; how littlemoney articles of furniture--long cherished by Dixon--had fetched at thesale, which was a shame considering how rich folks were at Milton;how Mrs. Thornton had come one day and got two or three goodbargains, and Mr. Thornton had come the next, and in his desire toobtain one or two things, had bid against himself, much to theenjoyment of the bystanders, so as Dixon observed, that made thingseven; if Mrs. Thornton paid too little, Mr. Thornton paid too much. Mr.
Bell had sent all sorts of orders about the books; there was nounderstanding him, he was so particular; if he had come himself itwould have been all right, but letters always were and always will bemore puzzling than they are worth. Dixon had not much to tell about theHigginses. Her memory had an aristocratic bias, and was verytreacherous whenever she tried to recall any circumstance connectedwith those below her in life. Nicholas was very well she believed. Hehad been several times at the house asking for news of Miss Margaret-theonly person who ever did ask, except once Mr. Thornton. AndMary? oh! of course she was very well, a great, stout, slatternly thing!
She did hear, or perhaps it was only a dream of hers, though it would bestrange if she had dreamt of such people as the Higginses, that Maryhad gone to work at Mr. Thornton"s mill, because her father wished herto know how to cook; but what nonsense that could mean she didn"tknow. Margaret rather agreed with her that the story was incoherentenough to be like a dream. Still it was pleasant to have some one nowwith whom she could talk of Milton, and Milton people. Dixon was notover-fond of the subject, rather wishing to leave that part of her life inshadow. She liked much more to dwell upon speeches of Mr. Bell"s,which had suggested an idea to her of what was really his intention-makingMargaret his heiress. But her young lady gave her noencouragement, nor in any way gratified her insinuating enquiries,however disguised in the form of suspicions or assertions.
All this time, Margaret had a strange undefined longing to hear that Mr.
Bell had gone to pay one of his business visits to Milton; for it had beenwell understood between them, at the time of their conversation atHelstone, that the explanation she had desired should only be given toMr. Thornton by word of mouth, and even in that manner should be innowise forced upon him. Mr. Bell was no great correspondent, but hewrote from time to time long or short letters, as the humour took him,and although Margaret was not conscious of any definite hope, onreceiving them, yet she always put away his notes with a little feeling ofdisappointment. He was not going to Milton; he said nothing about it atany rate. Well! she must be patient. Sooner or later the mists would becleared away. Mr. Bell"s letters were hardly like his usual self; theywere short, and complaining, with every now and then a little touch ofbitterness that was unusual. He did not look forward to the future; herather seemed to regret the past, and be weary of the present. Margaretfancied that he could not be well; but in answer to some enquiry of hersas to his health, he sent her a short note, saying there was an old-fashioned complaint called the spleen; that he was suffering from that,and it was for her to decide if it was more mental or physical; but thathe should like to indulge himself in grumbling, without being obliged tosend a bulletin every time.
In consequence of this note, Margaret made no more enquiries about hishealth. One day Edith let out accidentally a fragment of a conversationwhich she had had with Mr. Bell, when he was last in London, whichpossessed Margaret with the idea that he had some notion of taking herto pay a visit to her brother and new sister-in-law, at Cadiz, in theautumn. She questioned and cross-questioned Edith, till the latter wasweary, and declared that there was nothing more to remember; all hehad said was that he half-thought he should go, and hear for himselfwhat Frederick had to say about the mutiny; and that it would be a goodopportunity for Margaret to become acquainted with her new sister-inlaw;that he always went somewhere during the long vacation, and didnot see why he should not go to Spain as well as anywhere else. Thatwas all. Edith hoped Margaret did not want to leave them, that she wasso anxious about all this. And then, having nothing else particular to do,she cried, and said that she knew she cared much more for Margaretthan Margaret did for her. Margaret comforted her as well as she could,but she could hardly explain to her how this idea of Spain, mereChateau en Espagne as it might be, charmed and delighted her. Edithwas in the mood to think that any pleasure enjoyed away from her was atacit affront, or at best a proof of indifference. So Margaret had to keepher pleasure to herself, and could only let it escape by the safety-valveof asking Dixon, when she dressed for dinner, if she would not like tosee Master Frederick and his new wife very much indeed?
