All this time, Margaret had a strange undefined longing to hear

that Mr. Bell had gone to pay one of his business visits to

Milton; for it had been well understood between them, at the time

of their conversation at Helstone, that the explanation she had

desired should only be given to Mr. Thornton by word of mouth,

and even in that manner should be in nowise forced upon him. Mr.

Bell was no great correspondent, but he wrote from time to time

long or short letters, as the humour took him, and although

Margaret was not conscious of any definite hope, on receiving

them, yet she always put away his notes with a little feeling of

disappointment. He was not going to Milton; he said nothing about

it at any rate. Well! she must be patient. Sooner or later the

mists would be cleared away. Mr. Bell's letters were hardly like

his usual self; they were short, and complaining, with every now

and then a little touch of bitterness that was unusual. He did

not look forward to the future; he rather seemed to regret the

past, and be weary of the present. Margaret fancied that he could

not be well; but in answer to some enquiry of hers as to his

health, he sent her a short note, saying there was an

old-fashioned complaint called the spleen; that he was suffering

from that, and it was for her to decide if it was more mental or

physical; but that he should like to indulge himself in

grumbling, without being obliged to send a bulletin every time.

In consequence of this note, Margaret made no more enquiries

about his health. One day Edith let out accidentally a fragment

of a conversation which she had had with Mr. Bell, when he was

last in London, which possessed Margaret with the idea that he

had some notion of taking her to pay a visit to her brother and

new sister-in-law, at Cadiz, in the autumn. She questioned and

cross-questioned Edith, till the latter was weary, and declared

that there was nothing more to remember; all he had said was that

he half-thought he should go, and hear for himself what Frederick

had to say about the mutiny; and that it would be a good

opportunity for Margaret to become acquainted with her new

sister-in-law; that he always went somewhere during the long

vacation, and did not see why he should not go to Spain as well

as anywhere else. That was all. Edith hoped Margaret did not want

to leave them, that she was so anxious about all this. And then,

having nothing else particular to do, she cried, and said that

she knew she cared much more for Margaret than Margaret did for

her. Margaret comforted her as well as she could, but she could

hardly explain to her how this idea of Spain, mere Chateau en

Espagne as it might be, charmed and delighted her. Edith was in

the mood to think that any pleasure enjoyed away from her was a

tacit affront, or at best a proof of indifference. So Margaret

had to keep her pleasure to herself, and could only let it escape

by the safety-valve of asking Dixon, when she dressed for dinner,

if she would not like to see Master Frederick and his new wife

very much indeed?




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