"My own, my father"s friend!
I cannot part with thee!
I ne"er have shown, thou ne"er hast known,How dear thou art to me."
ANON.
The elements of the dinner-parties which Mrs. Lennox gave, werethese; her friends contributed the beauty, Captain Lennox the easyknowledge of the subjects of the day; and Mr. Henry Lennox and thesprinkling of rising men who were received as his friends, brought thewit, the cleverness, the keen and extensive knowledge of which theyknew well enough how to avail themselves without seeming pedantic,or burdening the rapid flow of conversation.
These dinners were delightful; but even here Margaret"s dissatisfactionfound her out. Every talent, every feeling, every acquirement; nay, evenevery tendency towards virtue was used up as materials for fireworks;the hidden, sacred fire, exhausted itself in sparkle and crackle. Theytalked about art in a merely sensuous way, dwelling on outside effects,instead of allowing themselves to learn what it has to teach. Theylashed themselves up into an enthusiasm about high subjects incompany, and never thought about them when they were alone; theysquandered their capabilities of appreciation into a mere flow ofappropriate words. One day, after the gentlemen had come up into thedrawing-room, Mr. Lennox drew near to Margaret, and addressed her inalmost the first voluntary words he had spoken to her since she hadreturned to live in Harley Street.
"You did not look pleased at what Shirley was saying at dinner."
"Didn"t I? My face must be very expressive," replied Margaret.
"It always was. It has not lost the trick of being eloquent."
"I did not like," said Margaret, hastily, "his way of advocating what heknew to be wrong--so glaringly wrong--even in jest."
"But it was very clever. How every word told! Do you remember thehappy epithets?"
"Yes."
"And despise them, you would like to add. Pray don"t scruple, though heis my friend."
"There! that is the exact tone in you, that--" she stopped short.
He listened for a moment to see if she would finish her sentence; butshe only reddened, and turned away; before she did so, however, sheheard him say, in a very low, clear voice,-"
If my tones, or modes of thought, are what you dislike, will you do methe justice to tell me so, and so give me the chance of learning to pleaseyou?"
All these weeks there was no intelligence of Mr. Bell"s going to Milton.
He had spoken of it at Helstone as of a journey which he might have totake in a very short time from then; but he must have transacted hisbusiness by writing, Margaret thought, ere now, and she knew that if hecould, he would avoid going to a place which he disliked, and moreoverwould little understand the secret importance which she affixed to theexplanation that could only be given by word of mouth. She knew thathe would feel that it was necessary that it should be done; but whetherin summer, autumn, or winter, it would signify very little. It was nowAugust, and there had been no mention of the Spanish journey to whichhe had alluded to Edith, and Margaret tried to reconcile herself to thefading away of this illusion.
But one morning she received a letter, saying that next week he meantto come up to town; he wanted to see her about a plan which he had inhis head; and, moreover, he intended to treat himself to a littledoctoring, as he had begun to come round to her opinion, that it wouldbe pleasanter to think that his health was more in fault than he, when hefound himself irritable and cross. There was altogether a tone of forcedcheerfulness in the letter, as Margaret noticed afterwards; but at thetime her attention was taken up by Edith"s exclamations.
"Coming up to town! Oh dear! and I am so worn out by the heat that Idon"t believe I have strength enough in me for another dinner. Besides,everybody has left but our dear stupid selves, who can"t settle where togo to. There would be nobody to meet him."
"I"m sure he would much rather come and dine with us quite alone thanwith the most agreeable strangers you could pick up. Besides, if he isnot well he won"t wish for invitations. I am glad he has owned it at last.
I was sure he was ill from the whole tone of his letters, and yet hewould not answer me when I asked him, and I had no third person towhom I could apply for news."
"Oh! he is not very ill, or he would not think of Spain."
"He never mentions Spain."
"No! but his plan that is to be proposed evidently relates to that. Butwould you really go in such weather as this?"
"Oh! it will get cooler every day. Yes! Think of it! I am only afraid Ihave thought and wished too much--in that absorbing wilful way whichis sure to be disappointed--or else gratified, to the letter, while in thespirit it gives no pleasure."
"But that"s superstitious, I"m sure, Margaret."
"No, I don"t think it is. Only it ought to warn me, and check me fromgiving way to such passionate wishes. It is a sort of "Give me children,or else I die." I"m afraid my cry is, "Let me go to Cadiz, or else I die.""
"My dear Margaret! You"ll be persuaded to stay there; and then whatshall I do? Oh! I wish I could find somebody for you to marry here, thatI could be sure of you!"
"I shall never marry."
"Nonsense, and double nonsense! Why, as Sholto says, you"re such anattraction to the house, that he knows ever so many men who will beglad to Visit here next year for your sake."
Margaret drew herself up haughtily. "Do you know, Edith, I sometimesthink your Corfu life has taught you----"
"Well!"
"Just a shade or two of coarseness."
Edith began to sob so bitterly, and to declare so vehemently thatMargaret had lost all love for her, and no longer looked upon her as afriend, that Margaret came to think that she had expressed too harsh anopinion for the relief of her own wounded pride, and ended by beingEdith"s slave for the rest of the day; while that little lady, overcome bywounded feeling, lay like a victim on the sofa, heaving occasionally aprofound sigh, till at last she fell asleep.
