North and South | Page 2

a late train this very
evening; but, although she was a spoiled child, she was too careless and
idle to have a very strong will of her own, and gave way when she
found that her mother had absolutely ordered those extra delicacies of
the season which are always supposed to be efficacious against
immoderate grief at farewell dinners. She contented herself by leaning
back in her chair, merely playing with the food on her plate, and
looking grave and absent; while all around her were enjoying the mots
of Mr. Grey, the gentleman who always took the bottom of the table at
Mrs. Shaw's dinner parties, and asked Edith to give them some music in
the drawing-room. Mr. Grey was particularly agreeable over this
farewell dinner, and the gentlemen staid down stairs longer than usual.
It was very well they did--to judge from the fragments of conversation
which Margaret overheard.
'I suffered too much myself; not that I was not extremely happy with
the poor dear General, but still disparity of age is a drawback; one that I
was resolved Edith should not have to encounter. Of course, without
any maternal partiality, I foresaw that the dear child was likely to marry
early; indeed, I had often said that I was sure she would be married
before she was nineteen. I had quite a prophetic feeling when Captain
Lennox'--and here the voice dropped into a whisper, but Margaret
could easily supply the blank. The course of true love in Edith's case
had run remarkably smooth. Mrs. Shaw had given way to the
presentiment, as she expressed it; and had rather urged on the marriage,
although it was below the expectations which many of Edith's
acquaintances had formed for her, a young and pretty heiress. But Mrs.
Shaw said that her only child should marry for love,--and sighed
emphatically, as if love had not been her motive for marrying the
General. Mrs. Shaw enjoyed the romance of the present engagement
rather more than her daughter. Not but that Edith was very thoroughly
and properly in love; still she would certainly have preferred a good

house in Belgravia, to all the picturesqueness of the life which Captain
Lennox described at Corfu. The very parts which made Margaret glow
as she listened, Edith pretended to shiver and shudder at; partly for the
pleasure she had in being coaxed out of her dislike by her fond lover,
and partly because anything of a gipsy or make-shift life was really
distasteful to her. Yet had any one come with a fine house, and a fine
estate, and a fine title to boot, Edith would still have clung to Captain
Lennox while the temptation lasted; when it was over, it is possible she
might have had little qualms of ill-concealed regret that Captain
Lennox could not have united in his person everything that was
desirable. In this she was but her mother's child; who, after deliberately
marrying General Shaw with no warmer feeling than respect for his
character and establishment, was constantly, though quietly, bemoaning
her hard lot in being united to one whom she could not love.
'I have spared no expense in her trousseau,' were the next words
Margaret heard.
'She has all the beautiful Indian shawls and scarfs the General gave to
me, but which I shall never wear again.'
'She is a lucky girl,' replied another voice, which Margaret knew to be
that of Mrs. Gibson, a lady who was taking a double interest in the
conversation, from the fact of one of her daughters having been married
within the last few weeks.
'Helen had set her heart upon an Indian shawl, but really when I found
what an extravagant price was asked, I was obliged to refuse her. She
will be quite envious when she hears of Edith having Indian shawls.
What kind are they? Delhi? with the lovely little borders?'
Margaret heard her aunt's voice again, but this time it was as if she had
raised herself up from her half-recumbent position, and were looking
into the more dimly lighted back drawing-room. 'Edith! Edith!' cried
she; and then she sank as if wearied by the exertion. Margaret stepped
forward.
'Edith is asleep, Aunt Shaw. Is it anything I can do?'

All the ladies said 'Poor child!' on receiving this distressing intelligence
about Edith; and the minute lap-dog in Mrs. Shaw's arms began to bark,
as if excited by the burst of pity.
'Hush, Tiny! you naughty little girl! you will waken your mistress. It
was only to ask Edith if she would tell Newton to bring down her
shawls: perhaps you would go, Margaret dear?'
Margaret went up into the old nursery at the very top of the house,
where Newton was busy getting up some laces which were required for