"No doubt a happy one. Ah, Mr. Musgrove, you are most fortunate. You cannot tell the misery, the low spirits, the—the—in short all we poor helpless women suffer from, how much heart-breaking sorrow we endure in silence—bitterness of heart of which the world knows nothing."
Tom only whistled again in reply to this very pathetic address, then turning round began to examine the ornaments on the chimney-piece. Even Margaret could not quite blind herself to the change in his manner since the period when her smiles seemed the object he most coveted.
Presently he began again.
"Whilst your sisters were at Howard's did they see much of the Osbornes?"
Before Margaret had time to give an account of the visit to the Castle, Elizabeth entered the room.
"So I understand, Miss Watson, you have been playing the truant, and been obliged to be brought back almost by force."
"And are you come to congratulate or condole with me on our return?"
"I am come to wish you joy about being overwhelmed in the snow. I little thought when I was last at Osborne Castle we were such near neighbours."
"When were you there?" cried Elizabeth.
"Let me see—I think it was Thursday. I am there very often, but I think Thursday was the last day. How droll it would have been had we met."