"But at midnight, sir. Think of it. Where can she find shelter at this hour?"
"Why," put in my mother, "in my house, and welcome, if she must leave this one."
"Thank you, Mrs. Russell," said Margaret, in a stricken voice. "For the time being, I shall be glad—"
"For all time, if you wish," replied my mother. "And we shall have your things moved over tomorrow."
"By the Lord, sis," cried Ned, with a sudden friendliness quite astonishing after the part he had taken, and to be accounted for only by the idea that had struck him, "here's a blessing in disguise! There's a ship sails next Wednesday—so I found out this evening—and damn me if you sha'n't go to London with me! That's the kind of a forgiving brother I am!"
She had utterly ignored his first words, but when he reached the point, she looked at him thoughtfully, with a check upon her resentment. She made no reply, however; but he had not missed her expression. Tom and I exchanged side glances, remembering Ned's former wish that he might imitate his Irish friend by taking his sister to London to catch a fortune with. As for Margaret, as matters stood, it would be something to go to London, relying on her beauty. I fancied I saw that thought in her look.
Mr. Faringfield, who had heard with cold heedlessness my mother's offer and Ned's, now rang the bell. Noah appeared, with a sad, affrighted face—he had been listening at the door—and cast a furtive glance at Margaret, in token of commiseration.
"Bring Mrs. Winwood's cloak," said Mr. Faringfield to the old negro. "Then open the door for her and Mr. Edward."
While Noah was absent on this errand, and Margaret waited passively, Tom went to her, kissed her cheek, and then came away without a word.
"You'll accept Mrs. Russell's invitation, dear," said Mrs. Faringfield, in tears, "and we can see you every day."