“God bless you all!—good-bye,” were the parting words of Charles Catchpole. There is in that short sentence, “Good-bye,” a melancholy sense of departure which the full heart cannot express.
“Good-bye!—good-bye!" and Margaret gave vent to her grief in tears, whilst the old man clasped his hands in silent prayer.
The fond brother and affectionate son is gone; and never did Margaret see that brother again. She was shortly to change her place of abode. Her uncle Leader, who lived at Brandiston, and who had a young family, and was left a widower, sought the assistance of his niece; and though her father could but ill spare her, yet as there were so many children, and Margaret was so good a nurse, he could not refuse his consent. There was another feeling, too, which prompted the good old man to spare her. Though he loved his daughter’s company, he knew that she deserved to be thought better of by many who disregarded her in her own neighbourhood, and he thought a change would be good for her. It might produce in her a change of mind towards Will Laud—a thing he most earnestly wished for, though he would not grieve her by saying so. It would at all events remove her from many little persecutions which, though she professed not to feel them, he knew weighed heavily on her spirits; and come what might, even should Laud return, he was not known there, and he might be a happier man. Under all these circumstances, he not only gave his consent, but urged her going. She left her father’s roof on the Monday with her uncle.
[CHAPTER XIII
POVERTY AND PRIDE]
On the evening of the very day on which Margaret quitted her father’s roof for that of her uncle, as the old man was sitting pensively at his cottage fire, a knock at the door announced a visitor. The door opened, and in walked Will Laud, together with his friend, John Luff.
“Good-evening, father,” said Will. “We are come now from the shore. Our boat is once more moored to the rails at the landing-place, by Orwell Park, and we are come across the lands to see you. We had some difficulty in finding out your berth. You have changed your place of abode.”
“Say that you have changed it for us, and you will be nearer the mark. For ever since we knew you and your companion, we have known nothing but changes, and few of them for the better.”
“Things cannot always change for the worse, surely.”