Later in the day, Margaret said to Mr. Weston:
"You do not know, I suppose, that we met an old friend almost on the first day of our arrival in Plymouth."
"No," he replied, "I have not heard of it."
"We did; and Mr. Hart has business with him every night for two or three weeks, which will deprive us of his society from seven o'clock every evening. That is a pity, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Mr. Weston, "but your presence will be some compensation."
"That is a very gallant speech. Upon my word, I think only old gentlemen know how to pay a graceful compliment to a lady."
In this way she tickled Mr. Weston's vanity, and contrived to account for Mr. Hart's absence during the night without disclosing the cause.
Margaret, indeed, was in her element, and every moment of her time was busily occupied, now in wheedling Mr. Weston, now in screening the proceedings of Lucy and Gerald from the old gentleman's observation. "I am the watchdog," she said to herself. She waited for a fitting opportunity to speak to Gerald privately about Lucy, and also concerning another matter; the letter which poor Philip had given to the charge of Mr. Hart, and which she had requested him to give her.
An hour with Gerald had made a wonderful change in Lucy; all her sadness was gone, and the joy of her heart was reflected in her face. She introduced Gerald to Margaret, and said:
"You must love her, Gerald. She is my dearest friend."