The morning brought a cheering account of Margaret; and Mrs. Arnott was to see her directly after breakfast. In the meantime, the firm limbs, blue eyes, and rosy face of Gertrude seemed a fair representation of the little bride’s-maid, whom she remembered.
A very different niece did she find upstairs, though the smiling, overflowing eyes, and the fond, eager look of recognition, as if asking to be taken to her bosom, had in them all the familiarity of old tenderness. “Auntie! dear auntie! that you should have come back to me again!”
Mrs. Arnott fondly caressed her, but could not speak at first, for even her conversation with Ethel had not prepared her for so wasted and broken an appearance. Dr. May spoke briskly of Margaret’s having behaved very well and slept like a good child, told Margaret where he had to go that morning, and pointed out to Mrs. Arnott some relics of herself still remaining; but the nervous tremulousness of manner did not much comfort her, although Margaret answered cheerfully. Nothing was so effectual in composing the aunt as Aubrey’s coming headlong in to announce the gig, and to explain to Margaret his last design for a cathedral—drawing plans being just now his favourite sport.
“Architecture is all our rage at present,” said Margaret, as her father hurried away.
“I am so glad to have come in time for the consecration!” said Mrs. Arnott, following her niece’s lead. “Is that a model of the church?”
“Oh, yes!” cried Margaret, lighting up. “Richard made it for me.”
“May I show it to Aunt Flora?” said Aubrey.
“Bring it here, if you can lift it,” said Margaret; and, Aunt Flora helping, the great cumbersome thing was placed beside her, whilst she smiled and welcomed it like a child, and began an eager exhibition. Was it not a beautiful little pierced spire?—that was an extravagance of Dr. Spencer’s own. Papa said he could not ask Captain Gordon to sanction it—the model did it no justice, but it was so very beautiful in the rich creamy stone rising up on the moor, and the blue sky looking through, and it caught the sunset lights so beautifully. So animated was her description, that Mrs. Arnott could not help asking, “Why, my dear, when have you seen it?”
“Never,” said Margaret, with her sweet smile. “I have never seen Cocksmoor; but Dr. Spencer and Meta are always sketching it for me, and Ethel would not let an effect pass without telling me. I shall hear how it strikes you next.”
“I hope to see it by and by. What a comfortable deep porch! If we could build such churches in the colonies, Margaret!”