Chapter 49

CHAPTER XLIX - BREATHING TRANQUILLITY (North and South)

'And down the sunny beach she paces slowly,

With many doubtful pauses by the way;

Grief hath an influence so hush'd and holy.'

HOOD.

'Is not Margaret the heiress?' whispered Edith to her husband, as
they were in their room alone at night after the sad journey to
Oxford. She had pulled his tall head down, and stood upon tiptoe,
and implored him not to be shocked, before she had ventured to
ask this question. Captain Lennox was, however, quite in the
dark; if he had ever heard, he had forgotten; it could not be
much that a Fellow of a small college had to leave; but he had
never wanted her to pay for her board; and two hundred and fifty
pounds a year was something ridiculous, considering that she did
not take wine. Edith came down upon her feet a little bit sadder;
with a romance blown to pieces.

A week afterwards, she came prancing towards her husband, and
made him a low curtsey:

'I am right, and you are wrong, most noble Captain. Margaret has
had a lawyer's letter, and she is residuary legatee--the legacies
being about two thousand pounds, and the remainder about forty
thousand, at the present value of property in Milton.'

'Indeed! and how does she take her good fortune?'

'Oh, it seems she knew she was to have it all along; only she had
no idea it was so much. She looks very white and pale, and says
she's afraid of it; but that's nonsense, you know, and will soon
go off. I left mamma pouring congratulations down her throat, and
stole away to tell you.'

It seemed to be supposed, by general consent, that the most
natural thing was to consider Mr. Lennox henceforward as
Margaret's legal adviser. She was so entirely ignorant of all
forms of business that in nearly everything she had to refer to
him. He chose out her attorney; he came to her with papers to be
signed. He was never so happy as when teaching her of what all
these mysteries of the law were the signs and types.

'Henry,' said Edith, one day, archly; 'do you know what I hope
and expect all these long conversations with Margaret will end
in?'

'No, I don't,' said he, reddening. 'And I desire you not to tell
me.'

'Oh, very well; then I need not tell Sholto not to ask Mr.
Montagu so often to the house.'

'Just as you choose,' said he with forced coolness. 'What you are
thinking of, may or may not happen; but this time, before I
commit myself, I will see my ground clear. Ask whom you choose.
It may not be very civil, Edith, but if you meddle in it you will
mar it. She has been very farouche with me for a long time; and
is only just beginning to thaw a little from her Zenobia ways.
She has