第149章 CHAPTER XVIII MARGARET\"S FLITTIN\" (1)

     
     
     
     　　ELLIOTT.
     
     　　Mrs. Shaw took as vehement a dislike as it was possible for one of hergentle nature to do, against Milton. It was noisy, and smoky, and thepoor people whom she saw in the streets were dirty, and the rich ladiesover-dressed, and not a man that she saw, high or low, had his clothesmade to fit him. She was sure Margaret would never regain her loststrength while she stayed in Milton; and she herself was afraid of one ofher old attacks of the nerves. Margaret must return with her, and thatquickly. This, if not the exact force of her words, was at any rate thespirit of what she urged on Margaret, till the latter, weak, weary, andbroken-spirited, yielded a reluctant promise that, as soon as Wednesdaywas over she would prepare to accompany her aunt back to town,leaving Dixon in charge of all the arrangements for paying bills,disposing of furniture, and shutting up the house. Before thatWednesday--that mournful Wednesday, when Mr. Hale was to beinterred, far away from either of the homes he had known in life, andfar away from the wife who lay lonely among strangers (and this lastwas Margaret\"s great trouble, for she thought that if she had not given
     
     　　way to that overwhelming stupor during the first sad days, she couldhave arranged things otherwise)--before that Wednesday, Margaretreceived a letter from Mr. Bell.
     
     　　\"MY DEAR MARGARET:--I did mean to have returned to Milton onThursday, but unluckily it turns out to be one of the rare occasionswhen we, Plymouth Fellows, are called upon to perform any kind ofduty, and I must not be absent from my post. Captain Lennox and Mr.
     
     　　Thornton are here. The former seems a smart, well-meaning man; andhas proposed to go over to Milton, and assist you in any search for thewill; of course there is none, or you would have found it by this time, ifyou followed my directions. Then the Captain declares he must takeyou and his mother-in-law home; and, in his wife\"s present state, I don\"tsee how you can expect him to remain away longer than Friday.
     
     　　However, that Dixon of yours is trusty; and can hold her, or your own,till I come. I will put matters into the hands of my Milton attorney ifthere is no will; for I doubt this smart captain is no great man ofbusiness. Nevertheless, his moustachios are splendid. There will have tobe a sale, so select what things you wish reserved. Or you can send alist afterwards. Now two things more, and I have done. You know, or ifyou don\"t, your poor father did, that you are to have my money andgoods when I die. Not that I mean to die yet; but I name this lust toexplain what is coming. These Lennoxes seem very fond of you now;and perhaps may continue to be; perhaps not. So it is best to start with aformal agreement; namely, that you are to pay them two hundred andfifty pounds a year, as long as you and they find it pleasant to livetogether. (This, of course, includes Dixon; mind you don\"t be cajoledinto paying any more for her.) Then you won\"t be thrown adrift, if someday the captain wishes to have his house to himself, but you can carryyourself and your two hundred and fifty pounds off somewhere else; if,indeed, I have not claimed you to come and keep house for me first.
     
     　　Then as to dress, and Dixon, and personal expenses, and confectionery(all young ladies eat confectionery till wisdom comes by age), I shallconsult some lady of my acquaintance, and see how much you will havefrom your father before fixing this. Now, Margaret, have you flown outbefore you have read this far, and wondered what right the old man hasto settle your affairs for you so cavalierly? I make no doubt you have.
     
     　　Yet the old man has a right. He has loved your father for five and thirtyyears; he stood beside him on his wedding-day; he closed his eyes indeath. Moreover, he is your godfather; and as he cannot do you muchgood spiritually, having a hidden consciousness of your superiority insuch things, he would fain do you the poor good of endowing youmaterially. And the old man has not a known relation on earth; \"who isthere to mourn for Adam Bell?\" and his whole heart is set and bent
     
     　　upon this one thing, and Margaret Hale is not the girl to say him nay.
     
     　　Write by return, if only two lines, to tell me your answer. But nothanks.\"
     
     　　Margaret took up a pen and scrawled with trembling hand, \"MargaretHale is not the girl to say him nay.\" In her weak state she could not thinkof any other words, and yet she was vexed to use these. But she was somuch fatigued even by this slight exertion, that if she could havethought of another form of acceptance, she could not have sate up towrite a syllable of it. She was obliged to lie down again, and try not tothink.
     
     　　\"My dearest child! Has that letter vexed or troubled you?\"
     
     　　\"No!\" said Margaret feebly. \"I shall be better when to-morrow is over.\"
     
     　　\"I feel sure, darling, you won\"t be better till I get you out of this horridair. How you can have borne it this two years I can\"t imagine.\"
     
     　　\"Where could I go to? I could not leave papa and mamma.\"
     
     　　\"Well! don\"t distress yourself, my dear. I dare say it was all for the best,only I had no conception of how you were living. Our butler\"s wife livesin a better house than this.\"
     
     　　\"It is sometimes very pretty--in summer; you can\"t judge by what it isnow. I have been very happy here,\" and Margaret closed her eyes byway of stopping the conversation.
     
     　　The house teemed with comfort now, compared to what it had done.
     
     　　The evenings were chilly, and by Mrs. Shaw\"s directions fires werelighted in every bedroom. She petted Margaret in every possible way,and bought every delicacy, or soft luxury in which she herself wouldhave burrowed and sought comfort. But Margaret was indifferent to allthese things; or, if they forced themselves upon her attention, it wassimply as causes for gratitude to her aunt, who was putting herself somuch out of her way to think of her. She was restless, though so weak.
     
     　　All the day long, she kept herself from thinking of the ceremony whichwas going on at Oxford, by wandering from room to room, andlanguidly setting aside such articles as she wished to retain. Dixonfollowed her by Mrs. Shaw\"s desire, ostensibly to receive instructions,but with a private injunction to soothe her into repose as soon as mightbe.