“Why, I do not know that. The Bruces will be returning early in the spring; and I should like the young people to marry in town, that we may have them here for their wedding trip.”
“How you do hug me!” cried the laughing little boy, around whom Margaret’s arm was passed.
“Have I made you warm at last?” asked Margaret. “If not, you may go and stand by the fire.”
“No, indeed; we must be going,” said mamma. “As I find this news is abroad, I must call on Mrs Grey. She will take offence at once, if she hears it from anybody but me. So much for people’s husbands being partners in business!”
Margaret was now fully qualified to comprehend her sister’s irritability. Every trifle annoyed her. The rustle of Mrs Rowland’s handsome cloak almost made her sick; and she thought the hall clock would never have done striking twelve. When conscious of this, she put a strong check upon herself.
Hester stood by the mantelpiece, looking into the fire, and taking no notice of their mutual silence upon this piece of news. At last she muttered, in a soliloquising tone—
“Do not know—but I am not sure this news is true, after all.”
After a moment’s pause, Margaret replied—“I think that is not very reasonable. What must one suppose of everybody else, if it is not true?”
Hester was going to say, “What must we think of him, if it is?” but she checked herself. She should not have said what she had; she felt this, and only replied—
“Just so. Yes; it must be true.”