Margaret Capel, vol. 2. Ellen Wallace

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      "She has had so much running about to-day," said Margaret.

      "Yes, I saw you taking her out to exercise this morning, before breakfast."

      "Did you? When we were on the lawn?"

      "Yes, with that Indian-rubber ball you made her a present of."

      "You laugh, but it is a capital ball for Gessina to play with."

      "I thought Gessina and her mistress both seemed to enjoy it very much."

      "I did not know you were up then, Mr. Haveloc."

      "I had not left my room, I confess."

      "How very idle!"

      "Oh, it was! but then I had been sitting up half the night."

      "What a strange fancy of yours."

      "I was writing letters."

      "What! with all the day before you?"

      "I like to spend the day in your company."

      Here a low growl that seemed hardly human, made both start violently. Margaret dropped Gessina. Mr. Haveloc turned sharply round.

      "Ugh! little woman; are you going to give us tea to-night?" growled Mr. Casement.

      "Oh, dear yes, Sir. I declare I did not know what time it was," said Margaret hastily.

      "There is not the slightest hurry," said Mr. Haveloc detaining Margaret by the hand, "there can be no possible occasion for you to make tea before the usual time."

      Margaret looked up in deprecation of his contemptuous tone. Mr. Casement turned to hobble back to the house.

      "Ugh, sweethearts!" he grumbled, as he left them.

      Margaret blushed crimson. Mr. Haveloc still holding her hand, walking slowly and silently in the same direction. At last, in that calm voice which in people of impatient temper always marks strong emotion, he said:—

      "He is right Margaret—I love you!"

      Margaret was excessively agitated—she trembled violently; but the transparent candour of her nature did not now desert her. In a faltering tone she replied: "I thought so."

      "Come along, little woman," said Mr. Casement as Margaret stepped in at the window. "It is well I am come among you again. Poor uncle is laid on the shelf now; that's very plain."

      "Did I keep you waiting, uncle?" said Margaret softly as she took her place before the urn.

      "No, my love, never mind what he says. You know his ways by this time."

      "Come, sit down, youngster, and don't make a fuss. Take it easy," said Mr. Casement addressing Mr. Haveloc, who was behind Margaret's chair.

      Margaret ventured to cast an imploring glance at Mr. Haveloc, who regarded Mr. Casement as if he should like to reduce him to ashes; but being unprovided with any apparatus for this ceremony, he sat down beside Margaret, without making any reply.

      It seemed as if Mr. Casement would never go that evening. He wrangled through one game of piquet after another; at last he got up. "Well, good night Master Grey," he said, "if you are blind-folded, I am not. Those young ones have been muttering at the window there, ever since we sat down to cards."

      "What is it Claude?" asked Mr. Grey, as soon as Mr. Casement had gone.

      Mr. Haveloc told him what it was. Margaret laid her head on her uncle's shoulder—he put his arm round her waist. "Well then, Claude," he said, "your best plan is to set off to-morrow morning; the sooner you go, the sooner you will come back."

      Margaret looked up with a face suddenly blanched even to her lips. "What—go away—leave me, uncle?" she said. Her voice failed her; almost her breath; she had not believed it possible that they should ever be parted.

      Mr. Grey explained to Margaret as he had before explained to Mr. Haveloc his reasons for insisting on this measure.

      When he had finished, she burst into one of those paroxysms of tears that she only gave way to under very strong emotion. Mr. Haveloc hung over her chair in speechless distress. Mr. Grey endeavoured in the tenderest manner to moderate her agitation.

      "You see, my child," he said, "you are but seventeen, and very young for your age; and this fellow here, somewhere about two-and-twenty. It is very important you should both know your own minds a little more clearly than you can do now. In such serious affairs, it is right to be very cautious. You see, my dear little girl, what day of the month is it? You see, a year soon passes; and next 14th of June, he will be here again."

      Margaret checked her tears, and tried to reward his efforts with a smile.

      "Well, then, Claude, you and I must have a little conversation together. Wish him good night, my child; you had better part now and not see each other to-morrow morning. It is wisest, is it not Claude? There give her a kiss and have done with it. That's good children!"

      Margaret was speechless with grief: the last words Mr. Haveloc addressed to her as he led her to the door, were, "If I ever bestow a thought upon another, forget me; I can invoke no heavier curse upon my head."

      CHAPTER III

      Ansel.     His food—sharp sorrow, ever galling doubt,

      Fear, that aye nettles near the core of love—

      And long suspense that maketh faint the heart;

      Patience it may be, and much jealousy,

      And all that fretteth youth to timeless age.

      Isa.          And what the recompence?

      Ansel.      To sleep awhile;

      Dreaming of fairy worlds bestrewn with flowers.

      And close companionship of equal hearts;

      Warm, faultless, kind, unspotted, human hearts!

      Of hope so bright, as never felt a care,

      And love, that if care was, would smile it down.

      Then wake—like Ariadne on the shore,

      To battle with the tempest—but alone!

ANON.

      Aveline was up the next morning as early as she had threatened; and with the restlessness peculiar to her complaint, she was not content with a walk to the fisher man's cottage to buy prawns, but when she returned, finding that it still wanted some minutes to breakfast time, she wandered out into the garden, and began working at the flower-beds.

      Mrs. Fitzpatrick was perfectly astonished when she came down to find her daughter weeding and hoeing, in her straw bonnet and garden gloves.

      "I really cannot help it, mamma," was Aveline's reply to Mrs. Fitzpatrick's remonstrances; "it is so pleasant to feel better, that I could not resist a little independence of action. I have made your petunias look quite another thing."

      "Here are some beautiful strawberries, Aveline," said her mother, "if you go out rambling to-day you must fortify yourself with a good breakfast."

      "Yes! not strawberries, mamma. I will try some prawns. Jane's brother caught these. Tom. I don't know if you have ever seen СКАЧАТЬ