Chapter 51

CHAPTER LI - MEETING AGAIN

'Bear up, brave heart! we will be calm and strong;

Sure, we can master eyes, or cheek, or tongue,

Nor let the smallest tell-tale sign appear

She ever was, and is, and will be dear.'

RHYMING PLAY.

It was a hot summer's evening. Edith came into Margaret's
bedroom, the first time in her habit, the second ready dressed
for dinner. No one was there at first; the next time Edith found
Dixon laying out Margaret's dress on the bed; but no Margaret.
Edith remained to fidget about.

'Oh, Dixon! not those horrid blue flowers to that dead
gold-coloured gown. What taste! Wait a minute, and I will bring
you some pomegranate blossoms.'

'It's not a dead gold-colour, ma'am. It's a straw-colour. And
blue always goes with straw-colour.' But Edith had brought the
brilliant scarlet flowers before Dixon had got half through her
remonstrance.

'Where is Miss Hale?' asked Edith, as soon as she had tried the
effect of the garniture. 'I can't think,' she went on, pettishly,
'how my aunt allowed her to get into such rambling habits in
Milton! I'm sure I'm always expecting to hear of her having met
with something horrible among all those wretched places she pokes
herself into. I should never dare to go down some of those
streets without a servant. They're not fit for ladies.'

Dixon was still huffed about her despised taste; so she replied,
rather shortly:

'It's no wonder to my mind, when I hear ladies talk such a deal
about being ladies--and when they're such fearful, delicate,
dainty ladies too--I say it's no wonder to me that there are no
longer any saints on earth----'

'Oh, Margaret! here you are! I have been so wanting you. But how
your cheeks are flushed with the heat, poor child! But only think
what that tiresome Henry has done; really, he exceeds
brother-in-law's limits. Just when my party was made up so
beautifully--fitted in so precisely for Mr. Colthurst--there has
Henry come, with an apology it is true, and making use of your
name for an excuse, and asked me if he may bring that Mr.
Thornton of Milton--your tenant, you know--who is in London about
some law business. It will spoil my number, quite.'

'I don't mind dinner. I don't want any,' said Margaret, in a low
voice. 'Dixon can get me a cup of tea here, and I will be in the
drawing-room by the time you come up. I shall really be glad to
lie down.'

'No, no! that will never do. You do look wretchedly white, to be
sure; but that is just the heat, and we can't do without you
possibly. (Those flowers a little lower, Dixon. They look
glorious flames, Margaret, in your black hair.) You know we
planned you to talk about Milton to Mr.