Mason shed some silent tears when she received her orders to pack up. Whether they were on her own, or her young lady's account, she did not explain. She did say while she was packing the trinket-box, that a very general notion had prevailed in the housekeeper's room, that Ixworth—Mr. Humphries' place of residence—was shortly to have a mistress; and she believed it was never supposed likely that Miss Conway would be requested to fill that situation; not, she wished to observe, that any opinion prevailed derogatory to Miss Conway's charms, as might be proved by the circumstance that Mr. Gage had made her an offer—a very difficult and very high gentleman—but she had never heard any harm of Mr. Humphries, and no one in the whole country, she believed, could say any-thing to his disadvantage, which she thought a great thing in favour of a young gentleman with so many clear thousands a-year. That Mr. Humphries' gentleman had remarked, the night that they had all made a party to go to the play at T——, that Mr. Humphries seemed to him to be rather low; and that the butler, who was considered literary, had observed, that "the course of true love never did run smooth;" that the company had not taken the liberty to mention any names, but that she could not deny that several of the party had looked as if they knew the cause of Mr. Humphries' lowness, and of the butler's quotation.
Harriet actually cried when it came to taking leave of Margaret, and between her sobs, affected to be very angry with Mr. Gage that he did not follow her example.
Mr. Gage made a polite speech, of course, and felt it too, which is not the case, with all polite speeches.
Margaret renewed her promise of going to Wardenscourt, twice in the library, and once at the hall door, whither her warm-hearted friend followed her; and then the carriage started from the door.
"Ah! there is poor Mr. Humphries," said Mason, as they swept out of the shrubberies.
Margaret looked up, and beheld the gentleman in question, leaning on a gate with his handkerchief in his hand. There was no time for a bow, so she passed him without his having the comfort of knowing that she had seen him.
They arrived late in the evening at Mrs. Fitzpatrick's. The musical dash of the sea, and the scent of the air, warned Margaret their near approach to home.
Her friend was delighted to receive her back. She had felt her absence more than she had cared to acknowledge in her letters, for fear of interfering with the pleasure of her visit.
Each had much to tell the other, though of a very different kind; and Margaret had several times to repeat the fact that she came back single-hearted. So strange did it seem to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, that her faultless beauty should not have been successfully sought before this.