"That"s the bonnet I got her!" said Edith, triumphantly. "I knew it wouldsuit her the moment I saw it."
"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Lennox, in the half-contemptuous, half-indulgent tone he generally used to Edith. "But I believe I know thedifference between the charms of a dress and the charms of a woman.
No mere bonnet would have made Miss Hale"s eyes so lustrous and yetso soft, or her lips so ripe and red--and her face altogether so full ofpeace and light.--She is like, and yet more,"--he dropped his voice,--"likethe Margaret Hale of Helstone."
From this time the clever and ambitious man bent all his powers togaining Margaret. He loved her sweet beauty. He saw the latent sweepof her mind, which could easily (he thought) be led to embrace all theobjects on which he had set his heart. He looked upon her fortune onlyas a part of the complete and superb character of herself and herposition: yet he was fully aware of the rise which it would immediatelyenable him, the poor barrister, to take. Eventually he would earn suchsuccess, and such honours, as would enable him to pay her back, withinterest, that first advance in wealth which he should owe to her. He hadbeen to Milton on business connected with her property, on his returnfrom Scotland; and with the quick eye of a skilled lawyer, ready ever totake in and weigh contingencies, he had seen that much additional valuewas yearly accruing to the lands and tenements which she owned in thatprosperous and increasing town. He was glad to find that the presentrelationship between Margaret and himself, of client and legal adviser,was gradually superseding the recollection of that unlucky, mismanagedday at Helstone. He had thus unusual opportunities of intimateintercourse with her, besides those that arose from the connectionbetween the families.
Margaret was only too willing to listen as long as he talked of Milton,though he had seen none of the people whom she more especially knew.
It had been the tone with her aunt and cousin to speak of Milton withdislike and contempt; just such feelings as Margaret was ashamed toremember she had expressed and felt on first going to live there. ButMr. Lennox almost exceeded Margaret in his appreciation of thecharacter of Milton and its inhabitants. Their energy, their power, theirindomitable courage in struggling and fighting; their lurid vividness ofexistence, captivated and arrested his attention. He was never tired oftalking about them; and had never perceived how selfish and materialwere too many of the ends they proposed to themselves as the result ofall their mighty, untiring endeavour, till Margaret, even in the midst ofher gratification, had the candour to point this out, as the tainting sin inso much that was noble, and to be admired. Still, when other subjectspalled upon her, and she gave but short answers to many questions,Henry Lennox found out that an enquiry as to some Darkshirepeculiarity of character, called back the light into her eye, the glow intoher cheek.
When they returned to town, Margaret fulfilled one of her sea-sideresolves, and took her life into her own hands. Before they went toCromer, she had been as docile to her aunt"s laws as if she were still thescared little stranger who cried herself to sleep that first night in theHarley Street nursery. But she had learnt, in those solemn hours ofthought, that she herself must one day answer for her own life, and whatshe had done with it; and she tried to settle that most difficult problemfor women, how much was to be utterly merged in obedience toauthority, and how much might be set apart for freedom in working.
Mrs. Shaw was as good-tempered as could be; and Edith had inheritedthis charming domestic quality; Margaret herself had probably theworst temper of the three, for her quick perceptions, and over-livelyimagination made her hasty, and her early isolation from sympathy hadmade her proud; but she had an indescribable childlike sweetness ofheart, which made her manners, even in her rarely wilful moods,irresistible of old; and now, chastened even by what the world calledher good fortune, she charmed her reluctant aunt into acquiescence withher will. So Margaret gained the acknowledgment of her right to followher own ideas of duty.
"Only don"t be strong-minded," pleaded Edith. "Mamma wants you tohave a footman of your own; and I"m sure you"re very welcome, forthey"re great plagues. Only to please me, darling, don"t go and have astrong mind; it"s the only thing I ask. Footman or no footman, don"t bestrong-minded."
"Don"t be afraid, Edith. I"ll faint on your hands at the servants" dinnertime,the very first opportunity; and then, what with Sholto playing withthe fire, and the baby crying, you"ll begin to wish for a strong-mindedwoman, equal to any emergency."
"And you"ll not grow too good to joke and be merry?"
"Not I. I shall be merrier than I have ever been, now I have got my ownway."
"And you"ll not go a figure, but let me buy your dresses for you?"
"Indeed I mean to buy them for myself. You shall come with me if youlike; but no one can please me but myself."
"Oh! I was afraid you"d dress in brown and dust-colour, not to show thedirt you"ll pick up in all those places. I"m glad you"re going to keep oneor two vanities, just by way of specimens of the old Adam."
"I"m going to be just the same, Edith, if you and my aunt could but fancyso. Only as I have neither husband nor child to give me natural duties, Imust make myself some, in addition to ordering my gowns."
In the family conclave, which was made up of Edith, her mother, andher husband, it was decided that perhaps all these plans of hers wouldonly secure her the more for Henry Lennox. They kept her out of theway of other friends who might have eligible sons or brothers; and itwas also agreed that she never seemed to take much pleasure in thesociety of any one but Henry, out of their own family. The otheradmirers, attracted by her appearance or the reputation of her fortune,were swept away, by her unconscious smiling disdain, into the pathsfrequented by other beauties less fastidious, or other heiresses with alarger amount of gold. Henry and she grew slowly into closer intimacy;but neither he nor she were people to brook the slightest notice of theirproceedings.
