"Some wishes crossed my mind and dimly cheered it,And one or two poor melancholy pleasures,Each in the pale unwarming light of hope,Silvering its flimsy wing, flew silent by-Mothsin the moonbeam!"
COLERIDGE.
The next morning brought Margaret a letter from Edith. It wasaffectionate and inconsequent like the writer. But the affection wascharming to Margaret"s own affectionate nature; and she had grown upwith the inconsequence, so she did not perceive it. It was as follows:-"
Oh, Margaret, it is worth a journey from England to see my boy! He isa superb little fellow, especially in his caps, and most especially in theone you sent him, you good, dainty-fingered, persevering little lady!
Having made all the mothers here envious, I want to show him tosomebody new, and hear a fresh set of admiring expressions; perhaps,that"s all the reason; perhaps it is not,--nay, possibly, there is just a littlecousinly love mixed with it; but I do want you so much to come here,Margaret! I"m sure it would be the very best thing for Aunt Hale"shealth; everybody here is young and well, and our skies are alwaysblue, and our sun always shines, and the band plays deliciously frommorning till night; and, to come back to the burden of my ditty, mybaby always smiles. I am constantly wanting you to draw him for me,Margaret. It does not signify what he is doing; that very thing isprettiest, gracefulest, best. I think I love him a great deal better than myhusband, who is getting stout, and grumpy,--what he calls "busy." No!
he is not. He has just come in with news of such a charming pic-nic,given by the officers of the Hazard, at anchor in the bay below. Becausehe has brought in such a pleasant piece of news, I retract all I said justnow. Did not somebody burn his hand for having said or donesomething he was sorry for? Well, I can"t burn mine, because it wouldhurt me, and the scar would be ugly; but I"ll retract all I said as fast as Ican. Cosmo is quite as great a darling as baby, and not a bit stout, andas un-grumpy as ever husband was; only, sometimes he is very, verybusy. I may say that without love--wifely duty--where was I?--I hadsomething very particular to say, I know, once. Oh, it is this--DearestMargaret! --you must come and see me; it would do Aunt Hale good, asI said before. Get the doctor to order it for her. Tell him that it"s thesmoke of Milton that does her harm. I have no doubt it is that, really.
Three months (you must not come for less) of this delicious climate--allsunshine, and grapes as common as blackberries, would quite cure her. Idon"t ask my uncle"--(Here the letter became more constrained, andbetter written; Mr. Hale was in the corner, like a naughty child, forhaving given up his living.)--"because, I dare say, he disapproves ofwar, and soldiers, and bands of music; at least, I know that manyDissenters are members of the Peace Society, and I am afraid he wouldnot like to come; but, if he would, dear, pray say that Cosmo and I willdo our best to make him happy; and I"ll hide up Cosmo"s red coat andsword, and make the band play all sorts of grave, solemn things; or, ifthey do play pomps and vanities, it shall be in double slow time. DearMargaret, if he would like to accompany you and Aunt Hale, we willtry and make it pleasant, though I"m rather afraid of any one who hasdone something for conscience sake. You never did, I hope. Tell AuntHale not to bring many warm clothes, though I"m afraid it will be late inthe year before you can come. But you have no idea of the heat here! Itried to wear my great beauty Indian shawl at a pic-nic. I kept myself upwith proverbs as long as I could; "Pride must abide,"--and suchwholesome pieces of pith; but it was of no use. I was like mamma"slittle dog Tiny with an elephant"s trappings on; smothered, hidden,killed with my finery; so I made it into a capital carpet for us all to sitdown upon. Here"s this boy of mine, Margaret,--if you don"t pack upyour things as soon as you get this letter, a come straight off to see him,I shall think you"re descended from King Herod!"
Margaret did long for a day of Edith"s life--her freedom from care, hercheerful home, her sunny skies. If a wish could have transported her,she would have gone off; just for one day. She yearned for the strengthwhich such a change would give,--even for a few hours to be in themidst of that bright life, and to feel young again. Not yet twenty! andshe had had to bear up against such hard pressure that she felt quite old.
That was her first feeling after reading Edith"s letter. Then she read itagain, and, forgetting herself, was amused at its likeness to Edith"s self,and was laughing merrily over it when Mrs. Hale came into the drawing-room, leaning on Dixon"s arm. Margaret flew to adjust the pillows. Hermother seemed more than usually feeble.
"What were you laughing at, Margaret?" asked she, as soon as she hadrecovered from the exertion of settling herself on the sofa.
"A letter I have had this morning from Edith. Shall I read it you,mamma?"
She read it aloud, and for a time it seemed to interest her mother, whokept wondering what name Edith had given to her boy, and suggestingall probable names, and all possible reasons why each and all of thesenames should be given. Into the very midst of these wonders Mr.
Thornton came, bringing another offering of fruit for Mrs. Hale. Hecould not--say rather, he would not--deny himself the chance of thepleasure of seeing Margaret. He had no end in this but the presentgratification. It was the sturdy wilfulness of a man usually mostreasonable and self-controlled. He entered the room, taking in at aglance the fact of Margaret"s presence; but after the first cold distantbow, he never seemed to let his eyes fall on her again. He only stayed topresent his peaches--to speak some gentle kindly words--and then hiscold offended eyes met Margaret"s with a grave farewell, as he left theroom. She sat down silent and pale.
"Do you know, Margaret, I really begin quite to like Mr. Thornton."
No answer at first. Then Margaret forced out an icy "Do you?"
"Yes! I think he is really getting quite polished in his manners."
Margaret"s voice was more in order now. She replied,"He is very kind and attentive,--there is no doubt of that."
"I wonder Mrs. Thornton never calls. She must know I am ill, because ofthe water-bed."
"I dare say, she hears how you are from her son."
