"You will not help me, so far, then?" she asked, wearily, "and I have no one else."
Mr. Sandford wrote an address down.
"This man will help you," he said, hiding his uncomfortable feelings under an increase of gruffness. "He is a lawyer, and will arrange matters. As for me, I am of no use, and I wash my hands of all your concerns hence-forward."
He left her feeling more forlorn than before. She was conscious now of having had a vague hope, in some way, of his arranging things for her and Grace, of having received kindness. She felt that loyalty to her sister demanded that she should resent his words; and she resolutely pushed away any regrets from her.
Then she sat down, and began to write to the address given to her. She found it difficult to write, most difficult to express herself; and as she sat thinking how best she could give—that most dangerous thing—a half-confidence, the door was pushed open gently, and Mrs. Dorriman, her face working with suppressed agitation, entered and took her in her arms.
Mrs. Dorriman had gone to Torbreck thinking that she had some news to give which would change matters very much for Margaret, and, therefore, not so overwhelmed by the news of her engagement to Mr. Drayton as she would otherwise have been.
After tearful inquiries about Grace, and many gentle exclamations of sorrow and wonder, she thought she would say something to Margaret about Mr. Drayton; she would be cautious. She was too timid to act upon her own conviction, she would be guided by her answer.
"Are you really engaged to Mr. Drayton, my dear Margaret, quite engaged to him?"
"I have promised," said poor Margaret.
"But, perhaps, my dear, I could tell you something."