North and South Page #4

								

family, that Margaret saw she was no more 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 depth 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,
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