North and South | Page 4

wanted as
shawl-bearer, and devoted herself to the amusement of the other
visitors, whom her aunt had for the moment forgotten. Almost
immediately, Edith came in from the back drawing-room, winking and
blinking her eyes at the stronger light, shaking back her slightly-ruffled
curls, and altogether looking like the Sleeping Beauty just startled from
her dreams. Even in her slumber she had instinctively felt that a
Lennox was worth rousing herself for; and she had a multitude of
questions to ask about dear Janet, the future, unseen sister-in-law, for
whom she professed so much affection, that if Margaret had not been
very proud she might have almost felt jealous of the mushroom rival.
As Margaret sank rather more into the background on her aunt's joining
the conversation, she saw Henry Lennox directing his look towards a
vacant seat near her; and she knew perfectly well that as soon as Edith
released him from her questioning, he would take possession of that
chair. She had not been quite sure, from her aunt's rather confused
account of his engagements, whether he would come that night; it was
almost a surprise to see him; and now she was sure of a pleasant
evening. He liked and disliked pretty nearly the same things that she
did. Margaret's face was lightened up into an honest, open brightness.
By-and-by he came. She received him with a smile which had not a
tinge of shyness or self-consciousness in it.
'Well, I suppose you are all in the depths of business--ladies' business, I
mean. Very different to my business, which is the real true law business.
Playing with shawls is very different work to drawing up settlements.
'Ah, I knew how you would be amused to find us all so occupied in
admiring finery. But really Indian shawls are very perfect things of
their kind.'
'I have no doubt they are. Their prices are very perfect, too. Nothing

wanting.' The gentlemen came dropping in one by one, and the buzz
and noise deepened in tone.
'This is your last dinner-party, is it not? There are no more before
Thursday?'
'No. I think after this evening we shall feel at rest, which I am sure I
have not done for many weeks; at least, that kind of rest when the
hands have nothing more to do, and all the arrangements are complete
for an event which must occupy one's head and heart. I shall be glad to
have time to think, and I am sure Edith will.'
'I am not so sure about her; but I can fancy that you will. whenever I
have seen you lately, you have been carried away by a whirlwind of
some other person's making.'
'Yes,' said Margaret, rather sadly, remembering the never-ending
commotion about trifles that had been going on for more than a month
past: 'I wonder if a marriage must always be preceded by what you call
a whirlwind, or whether in some cases there might not rather be a calm
and peaceful time just before it.'
'Cinderella's godmother ordering the trousseau, the wedding-breakfast,
writing the notes of invitation, for instance,' said Mr. Lennox, laughing.
'But are all these quite necessary troubles?' asked Margaret, looking up
straight at him for an answer. A sense of indescribable weariness of all
the arrangements for a pretty effect, in which Edith had been busied as
supreme authority for the last six weeks, oppressed her just now; and
she really wanted some one to help her to a few pleasant, quiet ideas
connected with a marriage.
'Oh, of course,' he replied with a change to gravity in his tone. 'There
are forms and ceremonies to be gone through, not so much to satisfy
oneself, as to stop the world's mouth, without which stoppage there
would be very little satisfaction in life. But how would you have a
wedding arranged?'

'Oh, I have never thought much about it; only I should like it to be a
very fine summer morning; and I should like to walk to church through
the shade of trees; and not to have so many bridesmaids, and to have no
wedding-breakfast. I dare say I am resolving against the very things
that have given me the most trouble just now.'
'No, I don't think you are. The idea of stately simplicity accords well
with your character.'
Margaret did not quite like this speech; she winced away from it more,
from remembering former occasions on which he had tried to lead her
into a discussion (in which he took the complimentary part) about her
own character and ways of going on. She cut his speech rather short by
saying:
'It is natural for me to think of Helstone church, and the walk to it,
rather than of driving up to a London church in the