There are various tastes amongst the inhabitants of the world; some delight in making themselves happy, some in just the reverse; Margaret's pleasure was to fret; her pastime was to vex herself. Had she been the only victim to this peculiar taste, there would have been less harm in it; but, unfortunately, her father and sisters were likewise sufferers, and in as much as they were involuntary sufferers, and really took no pleasure in her vexation, it was rather hard upon them to be involved in the same calamity.
In progress of time the snow melted from the ground, and the inhabitants of the rectory at Winston were again set free from confinement. As soon as the roads became at all passable, Emma began to catch herself wondering when Mr. Howard would redeem his promise of coming to fetch the articles with which his sister had supplied them. She likewise detected herself in what she considered another failing; this was looking round the untidy rooms of her father's home, with their dingy carpets, faded curtains, papers soiled by the hands of the servants and children, and tables unpolished and scratched, and contrasting them mentally with the clear and cheerful aspect of the apartments where Mrs. Willis was mistress. The grandeur of Osborne Castle had none of the charms in her eyes which Mrs. Willis' little parlour presented, and she came to the conclusion that the happiest thing in the world must be to preside over such an establishment with such a companion. Those feelings, however, she did not openly express, in which she differed from Elizabeth, who repeatedly declared that she wished she could make their house resemble Mr. Howard's.
One morning, shortly after their return home, Tom Musgrove, whom they had not seen since that event, was ushered into the parlour.
Margaret, who happened to be alone, was instantly all agitation and bustle, trying to persuade him to take her chair by the fire, as she was sure he must be cold, or to accept the loan of her father's slippers whilst his boots were sent to the kitchen to dry.
He persisted, however, in declining her tender attentions, declaring she wanted to make an old man of him before his time, and placing himself on the hearth-rug, with his back to the fire, and his hands behind him, half whistled an air.
Margaret sighed.
"It is long since we have seen you," said she; "and the time has passed very wearily."
"Hum," said Tom, stopping in his tune. "Where are your sisters, Miss Margaret?"
"Oh, they are at home again," replied Margaret. "I believe Emma is with my father, and Elizabeth in the kitchen. Did you hear of their being away so long?"
"How long?" cried Tom.