Miss Osborne had not to say she was wrong twice over, nor to repeat the request for forgiveness. He was not tyrannical, though he could not submit to slavery, and a reconciliation was soon effected. When they were able to talk of anything besides themselves, he described to her his interview with Tom Musgrove. He had found him insolent and angry—disposed to resent Mr. Watson's threats as insulting, and Sir William's interference as uncalled-for. His tone, however, was considerably lowered when he ascertained for the first time that his conversation with Margaret had been overheard by two who were quite able to prove the fact. Sir William told him he was authorized by the family of one young lady—indeed as her affianced husband he considered himself bound to step forward and endeavour to prevent the necessity of her appearing as a witness in a public court: should she, in consequence of Mr. Musgrove's persevering in denying the truth, be compelled to perform so unpleasant a task, it would bring down on him the enmity of the noble family of which the lady was a member, and the universal contempt of the county; whereas, whilst affairs stood as they did at present, the fact of his inconstancy being known to so few, it was evident the whole business might be hushed up, and when he and Miss Watson were married, they might be certain of the countenance and favour of the family at Osborne Castle, and all their connexions.
Tom had hesitated much, and evidently deeply repented the unguarded conduct which had placed him in such an unpleasant predicament; and though he had yielded at last to a conviction of the necessity of the thing, it was with a reluctance which augured ill for the domestic felicity of the future Mrs. Musgrove. Indeed he had told Sir William, with an oath, that if she really compelled him to marry her, Margaret Watson should rue the day; so that upon the whole Sir William was of opinion that the young lady had much better not persist in her claim, if she had any value for a quiet home.
"I dare say he will not be worse than other men," replied Rosa saucily; "I have a notion that they are all tyrants to women at heart, only some wear a mask in courtship and some do not take that trouble. But they are all alike in the end, no doubt."
"Very possibly, Rosa; suppose you were to carry out your theory and change places with Miss Margaret."
"Thank you; your liberality is overpowering; but though they may be all alike in temper, they are so neither in person nor name—and in neither of these particulars does Mr. Musgrove please me."
It was then settled that Rosa should write to her friend and inform her how matters were going on—it being understood that Tom Musgrove was by the same post to assert his claim to Miss Margaret Watson's hand in a letter to her brother.
CHAPTER XI.
Had Margaret Watson possessed one particle of proper spirit, the tone and manner in which Tom Musgrove fulfilled his part of the bargain would have been sufficient to cause a total rupture between them; but far from this was the case with her. The fact of being now believed in her declaration, of being known as an engaged young lady, of having a right to talk about wedding-clothes, and sigh sentimentally at the prospect before her; the distinction which all this would give her in a small country town, where every occurrence, from a proposal of marriage down to the purchase of a new pair of shoes, was immediately known to all the neighbours—this delighted Margaret's weak mind, and set her heart in a flutter of gratified vanity.
To be able to inform all the morning visitors at her brother's house that indeed she was contemplating this important change, that she was yielding to a long and well placed affection, that she had known her dear Tom all her life, and that their mutual attachment had been of many years' standing—to sigh over the prospect of soon leaving her sisters, and trying a new situation, seeking a new home, entering on new duties—all this was perfect ecstasy to her, and on the strength of her engagement she became more than ever peevish and disagreeable to her sisters in private, and more affable and smiling to her associates in public.
Her dear Tom—her absent friend—was introduced on all occasions in her speeches, and most happy would she have been had she been able to introduce him personally to the admiring young ladies of Croydon. Miss Jenkins was dying to see him; Miss Lamb was certain he must be a charming beau; Miss Morgan and her sister were never weary of hearing the colour of his hair, and the style of his equipage.