“Besides,” said Margaret, “it is a mere accident Mr Enderby’s coming in to-day. If he makes a habit of it, we have only to tell him that we want our time to ourselves.”
Miss Young knew better. She made no reply; but she felt in her inmost soul that her new-born pleasures were, from this moment, to be turned into pains. She knew Mr Enderby; and knowing him, foresaw that she was to be a witness of his wooings of another, whom she had just begun to take to her heart. This was to be her fate if she was strong enough for it,—strong enough to be generous in allowing to Margaret opportunities which could not without her be enjoyed, of fixing the heart of one whom she could not pronounce to have been faulty towards herself. His conversation today had gone far to make her suppose him blameless, and herself alone in fault; so complete had seemed his unconsciousness with regard to her. Her duty then was clearly to give them up to each other, with such spirit of self-sacrifice as she might be capable of. If not strong enough for this, the alternative was a daily painful retreat to her lodging, whence she might look out on the heaps of cinders in the farrier’s yard, her spirit abased the while with the experience of her own weakness. Neither alternative was very cheering.
Chapter Seven.
Family Confidence.
“When do you leave us, Philip?” inquired Mrs Rowland, putting her arm within her brother’s, and marching him up the gravel-walk.
“Do you wish me to go?” replied he, laughing. “Is this what you were so anxious to say?”
“Why, we understood, six weeks since, that you meant to leave Deerbrook in a fortnight: that is all.”
“So I did: but my mother is kind enough to be pleased that I am staying longer; and since I am equally pleased myself, it is all very well. I rather think, too, that the children consider Uncle Philip a good boy, who deserves a holiday.”