Hither came Mrs. Carteret frequently, fussily, but genuinely kind, and Mr. Baldwin, to say some friendly words, and feel the truest compassion for the strong man thus imprisoned in his weak frame. Hither, later in the day, and much to the surprise of James Dugdale, came Margaret. He had thought she had gone to Davyntry, and said so. She reddened, a little angrily, as she replied,
"No: I have not been out. You seem to think I must always go to Davyntry."
"Not I, indeed, Margaret," said James, with a smile; "but I think they do. Since I have been away, I understand you have been constantly at Davyntry, and I am very glad to hear it; it is good for you and for Lady Davyntry also."
"Perhaps so; she is very kind," said Margaret absently. "At all events, I am not there to-day, as you see, and I am not going there, or anywhere, but I will sit here with you, if I may."
She turned on him one of her rare, winning smiles--a smile far more beautiful, he thought, than any her girlhood had been decked in. She drew a low chair into the bow of the window, beside his couch, and sat down. Between him and the light was her graceful figure, and her clear pale face, with its strangely-contrasted look of youth and experience.
"Are you really going to give up all the afternoon to me?" said James, in delight.
"I really am. I will read to you, or we can talk, just as you like. I suppose you don't feel any great fancy for turning tutor to me over again, though I see all my old school-books religiously preserved on your book-shelves," she said, glancing round at the well-stocked walls of the room, which had been the schoolroom in the days when Haldane and she had been James's pupils.
"I have kept every remembrance of that time, Margaret," said James.
There was a tone in his voice which might have been a revelation to her, had she heard it, but she did not. She smiled again, and said:
"You had a troublesome pupil. I am in a good mood to-day, as I used to say long ago, and I want to talk to you about this."