Margaret tried to speak cheerfully, but the smile would not come.
"I will follow it to the letter," said he; "you shall never see me again until I can say proudly that I have proved myself worthy of your interest. If all women would so use their influence"—He paused, unable, from emotion, to complete his sentence.
Margaret changed the subject.
"My uncle is better to-day than he has been for some time," she said, "I think the prospect of going home has wrought this change, and I hope that when he is once settled comfortably again at Ashdale, his improvement will be rapid."
"I hope so," said Hubert, "but my present anxiety is about yourself; how am I ever to hear of you?"
"If you are kindly anxious to learn how I am, I dare say Bessy will tell you as much in her letters," said Margaret; "but I expect my life to be so monotonous henceforth, that I shall furnish nothing but a bulletin."
"I must live upon that, then," he said. "Well and Single. That will be something for me to hear. And if I could not catch some of your fortitude," he added, looking admiringly at her calm face, "I should be unworthy of the name of a man. But you do not know how hard it is for me to leave you while you are looking so ill. You did not sleep last night."
"Sleep, no!" said Margaret, with naivetè.
"And I am afraid," said Hubert, "that you will not take proper care of yourself without some one to overlook your proceedings."
"There is one great cure for my ailments. Time," said Margaret, tranquilly; "and I think his wings, or wheels will move as well in your absence as in your presence, Mr. Hubert."