Mrs. Thornton was shy. It was only of late years that she had had

leisure enough in her life to go into society; and as society she

did not enjoy it. As dinner-giving, and as criticising other

people's dinners, she took satisfaction in it. But this going to

make acquaintance with strangers was a very different thing. She

was ill at ease, and looked more than usually stern and

forbidding as she entered the Hales' little drawing-room.

Margaret was busy embroidering a small piece of cambric for some

little article of dress for Edith's expected baby--'Flimsy,

useless work,' as Mrs. Thornton observed to herself. She liked

Mrs. Hale's double knitting far better; that was sensible of its

kind. The room altogether was full of knick-knacks, which must

take a long time to dust; and time to people of limited income

was money. She made all these reflections as she was talking in

her stately way to Mrs. Hale, and uttering all the stereotyped

commonplaces that most people can find to say with their senses

blindfolded. Mrs. Hale was making rather more exertion in her

answers, captivated by some real old lace which Mrs. Thornton

wore; 'lace,' as she afterwards observed to Dixon, 'of that old

English point which has not been made for this seventy years, and

which cannot be bought. It must have been an heir-loom, and shows

that she had ancestors.' So the owner of the ancestral lace

became worthy of something more than the languid exertion to be

agreeable to a visitor, by which Mrs. Hale's efforts at

conversation would have been otherwise bounded. And presently,

Margaret, racking her brain to talk to Fanny, heard her mother

and Mrs. Thornton plunge into the interminable subject of

servants.

'I suppose you are not musical,' said Fanny, 'as I see no piano.' 'I am fond of hearing good music; I cannot play well myself; and

papa and mamma don't care much about it; so we sold our old piano

when we came here.' 'I wonder how you can exist without one. It almost seems to me a

necessary of life.' 'Fifteen shillings a week, and three saved out of them!' thought

Margaret to herself 'But she must have been very young. She

probably has forgotten her own personal experience. But she must

know of those days.' Margaret's manner had an extra tinge of

coldness in it when she next spoke.

'You have good concerts here, I believe.' 'Oh, yes! Delicious! Too crowded, that is the worst. The

directors admit so indiscriminately. But one is sure to hear the

newest music there. I always have a large order to give to

Johnson's, the day after a concert.' 'Do you like new music simply for its newness, then?' 'Oh; one knows it is the fashion in London, or else the singers

would not bring it down here. You have been in London, of

course.' 'Yes,' said Margaret, 'I have lived there for several years.' 'Oh! London and the Alhambra are the two places I long to see!' 'London and the Alhambra!' 'Yes! ever since I read the Tales of the Alhambra. Don't you know

them?' 'I don't think I do. But surely, it is a very easy journey to

London.' 'Yes; but somehow,' said Fanny, lowering her voice, 'mamma has

never been to London herself, and can't understand my longing.

She is very proud of Milton; dirty, smoky place, as I feel it to

be. I believe she admires it the more for those very qualities.' 'If it has been Mrs. Thornton's home for some years, I can well

understand her loving it,' said Margaret, in her clear bell-like

voice.




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