Chapter 44 - Page 2

There might be toilers and moilers there in London, but she never
saw them; the very servants lived in an underground world of
their own, of which she knew neither the hopes nor the fears;
they only seemed to start into existence when some want or whim
of their master and mistress needed them. There was a strange
unsatisfied vacuum in Margaret's heart and mode of life; and,
once when she had dimly hinted this to Edith, the latter, wearied
with dancing the night before, languidly stroked Margaret's cheek
as she sat by her in the old attitude,--she on a footstool by the
sofa where Edith lay.

'Poor child!' said Edith. 'It is a little sad for you to be left,
night after night, just at this time when all the world is so
gay. But we shall be having our dinner-parties soon--as soon as
Henry comes back from circuit--and then there will be a little
pleasant variety for you. No wonder it is moped, poor darling!'

Margaret did not feel as if the dinner-parties would be a
panacea. But Edith piqued herself on her dinner-parties; 'so
different,' as she said, 'from the old dowager dinners under
mamma's regime;' and Mrs. Shaw herself seemed to take exactly the
same kind of pleasure in the very different arrangements and
circle of acquaintances which were to Captain and Mrs. Lennox's
taste, as she did in the more formal and ponderous entertainments
which she herself used to give. Captain Lennox was always
extremely kind and brotherly to Margaret. She was really very
fond of him, excepting when he was anxiously attentive to Edith's
dress and appearance, with a view to her beauty making a
sufficient impression on the world. Then all the latent Vashti in
Margaret was roused, and she could hardly keep herself from
expressing her feelings.

The course of Margaret's day was this; a quiet hour or two before
a late breakfast; an unpunctual meal, lazily eaten by weary and
half-awake people, but yet at which, in all its dragged-out
length, she was expected to be present, because, directly
afterwards, came a discussion of plans, at which, although they
none of them concerned her, she was expected to give her
sympathy, if she could not assist with her advice; an endless
number of notes to write, which Edith invariably left to her,
with many caressing compliments as to her eloquence du billet; a
little play with Sholto as he returned from his morning's walk;
besides the care of the children during the servants' dinner; a
drive or callers; and some dinner or morning engagement for her
aunt and cousins, which left Margaret free, it is true, but
rather wearied with the inactivity of the day, coming upon
depressed spirits and delicate health.

She looked forward with longing, though unspoken interest to the