“No, indeed, dear Jean,” said Miss Grace; “those who knew you a few years ago would scarcely recog—”
“And Aubrey is invaluable about travelling. I never saw a man so good; for one thing I have very much trained him myself; he has gone about with me since he was quite a little fellow. I used to make him take the tickets, and then he got advanced to looking after the luggage. To be sure, he once made us a present of his beautiful new umbrella, letting the guard put it into our carriage; but that was a trifle. I think, as he has come, we must settle to go in a day or two, Mary. This just gives me the courage to go. I should have lingered on, not able to make up my mind to tear ourselves away from a spot—”
“Where we have been so unhappy.” Miss Leslie took advantage of the moment when Mrs. Bellingham took up her cup of coffee. A mouthful of anything, especially when it is hot, is an interruption perforce of the most eloquent speech.
“It will be better for us all, and better for Margaret, not to linger here,” said Jean. “Poor child! she will never do any good till we get her away. Yes, you will suffer, Margaret, but believe me, it is real consideration for your good—real anxiety for you. Ask Mary; she will tell you the same thing. Earl’s-hall will never be the same to you again. You must begin your new life sometime or other, and the sooner the better, Margaret. Would you like to go to the Highlands and see a little of the country? or shall we go straight to the Grange at once? Now that Aubrey is to be with us, it is quite the same for my comfort; and we will do, my love, what you like best.”
“Oh, I do not care about anything,” said Margaret, “whatever, whatever you please.”
“That is very natural, my dear,” said Lady Leslie, “and Jean is right, though perhaps it sounds hard. Effie and I will miss you dreadfully, Margaret, but the change is the best thing for you. If you go to the Highlands, would you like Effie to go too, for company?” said the kind woman. But Margaret could not speak for crying, and Jean and Grace did not seem delighted with the suggestion.
“It will be best for her to make the break at once,” said Mrs. Bellingham. “Effie can come after; we shall be most happy to see her when we are settled at the Grange.”
“I dare say you are right,” said Effie’s mother; but this rejection of the offer, which she knew to be so kind on her own part, of her daughter’s company made her heart colder to poor Margaret than all the story about Rob Glen.
Ludovic put his hand on his little sister’s shoulder as she was leaving the breakfast-table.
“Will you come out with me and take a little walk about the place, Margaret? I want to say something to you,” he said.