"Yes; at least, if not to gaiety, to excitement; to having every hour of the day filled up with something to do; to finding the time flown before I scarcely knew it had arrived, instead of watching the clock and wondering that it was not later in the day."
"Ah, then of course you feel the change very greatly at first; but I think you will find it wear off. One's views of life alter so after we have tried the new phase for a little time. It seems strange my speaking to you in this way, Mrs. Ludlow; but I have had a certain amount of experience. There was my own dear home; and then I lived with my uncle at a little country parsonage, and kept house for him; and then I became--Lady Beauport's companion."
A bright red patch burned on Margaret's cheek as Annie said these words. Was it shame? Was the quiet earnestness, the simple courtesy and candour of this frank, bright-eyed girl getting over her?
"That was very difficult at first, I confess," Annie continued; "every thing was so strange to me, just as it may be to you here, but I had come from the quietude to the gaiety; and I thought at one time it would be impossible for me to continue there. But I held on, and I manage to get on quite comfortably now. They are all very kind to me; and the sight of Mr. Ludlow occasionally insures my never forgetting the old days."
"It would be strange if they were not kind to you," said Margaret, looking fixedly at her. "I understand now what Geoffrey has told me about you. We shall be friends, shall we not?" suddenly extending her hand.
"The very best of friends!" said Annie, returning the pressure; "and, dear Mrs. Ludlow, you will soon get over this feeling of dulness. These horrible household duties, which are so annoying at first, become a regular part of the day's business, and, unconsciously to ourselves, we owe a great deal to them for helping us through the day. And then you must come out with me whenever I can get the carriage,--O, Ive brought Lady Beaupores card, and she is coming herself as soon as she gets out again,--and we'll go for a drive in the Park. I can quite picture to myself the sensation you would make."
Margaret smiled--a strange hard smile--but said nothing.
"And then you must be fond of reading; and I don't know whether Mr. Ludlow has changed, but there was nothing he used to like so much as being read to while he was at work. Whenever he came to the Priory, papa and I used to sit in the little room where he painted and take it in turns to read to him. I daresay he hasn't liked to ask you, fearing it might bore you; and you haven't liked to suggest it, from an idea that you might interrupt his work."
"O yes, Ive no doubt it will come right," said Margaret, indisposed to enter into detail; "and I know I can rely on your help; only one thing--don't mention what I have said to Geoffrey, please; it might annoy him; and he is so good, that I would not do that for the world."
"He will not hear a word of it from me. It would annoy him dreadfully, I know. He is so thoroughly wrapped up in you, that to think you were not completely happy would cause him great pain. Yes, he is good. Papa used to say he did not know so good a man, and--"