"Poor Marguerite it should be instead of Poor Evelyn. It is the pure minded girl that is to be pitied. Marguerite is the victim of this freak. Matilda will drag that child to the four corners of the earth to accomplish her ends."
"My dear, you are severe. Have some moderation," said Mr.
Montgomery, in a conciliating tone.
"Moderation!" retorted the self-reliant wife—"moderation towards a weak-minded, unscrupulous fortune-hunter and match-maker—a despiser of those genuine graces which adorn the female mind and make woman what she should be. Don't talk thus to me, William, else I shall feel that you would abet Matilda in what she has undertaken, and what she may evidently accomplish."
"God forbid," said Mr. Montgomery, with more vehemence than was peculiar to him.
* * * * *
Marguerite had only one week's notice to prepare for the projected trip. She did not receive the summons with joy and eagerness, nor did she evince any pleasure in the preparations.
"I shall have some beautiful costumes ordered for you when we arrive in London, my dear," said the fashionable mother on inspecting her daughter's wardrobe and commenting upon the array of materials before her.
"Really, mamma, if I am to be bored by modistes from morn till eve I should prefer to remain at home. I know it is wrong to say so, but I almost wish that Eve was well enough to get along without us."
"I believe you, my dear," said Mrs. Verne, stroking her daughter's head, "but then you know it would be cruel to have the poor girl break her heart, moping away her time and begging to see a dear face from home."
A wicked thought entered Marguerite's head. She wondered if it were possible that her haughty sister ever possessed a true, honest heart? and was there in her marriage with Montague Arnold the least approach to sympathy? Did the proud heart ever beat with one responsive throb for him whom she had chosen?