Chapter 20 - Page 2

language in which they frequently conversed, but which was
unknown to Margaret.

"We must have patience for a time," said the lady to her visitor; "the
cash-keeper is abroad on some business, but he is expected home in the
course of half an hour."

Margaret wrung her hands in vexation and impatience.

"Minutes are precious," continued the lady; "that I am well aware of;
and we will at least suffer none of them to escape us. Monna Paula
shall remain below and transact our business, the very instant that
Roberts returns home."

She spoke to her attendant accordingly, who again left the room.

"You are very kind, madam--very good," said the poor little Margaret,
while the anxious trembling of her lip and of her hand showed all that
sickening agitation of the heart which arises from hope deferred.

"Be patient, Margaret, and collect yourself," said the lady; "you may,
you must, have much to do to carry through this your bold purpose--
reserve your spirits, which you may need so much--be patient--it is
the only remedy against the evils of life."

"Yes, madam," said Margaret, wiping her eyes, and endeavouring in vain
to suppress the natural impatience of her temper,--"I have heard so--
very often indeed; and I dare say I have myself, heaven forgive me,
said so to people in perplexity and affliction; but it was before I
had suffered perplexity and vexation myself, and I am sure I will
never preach patience to any human being again, now that I know how
much the medicine goes against the stomach."

"You will think better of it, maiden," said the Lady Hermione; "I
also, when I first felt distress, thought they did me wrong who spoke
to me of patience; but my sorrows have been repeated and continued
till I have been taught to cling to it as the best, and--religious
duties excepted, of which, indeed, patience forms a part--the only
alleviation which life can afford them."

Margaret, who neither wanted sense nor feeling, wiped her tears
hastily, and asked her patroness's forgiveness for her petulance.

"I might have thought"--she said, "I ought to have reflected, that
even from the manner of your life, madam, it is plain you must have
suffered sorrow; and yet, God knows, the patience which I have ever
seen you display, well entitles you to recommend your own example to
others."

The lady was silent for a moment, and then replied--

"Margaret, I am about to repose a high confidence in you. You are no
longer a child, but a thinking and a feeling woman. You have told me
as much of your secret as you dared--I will let you know as much of