in his
self-command. Of one thing he was certain--that no human being
suspected the real state of his mind. This was a comfort and support.
Of something else he felt nearly certain--that Margaret loved Philip.
This was another comfort, if he could only feel it so; and he had little
doubt that Philip loved her. He had also a deep conviction, which he
now aroused for his support--that no consecration of a home is so holy
as that of a kindly, self-denying, trustful spirit in him who is the
head and life of his house. If there was in himself a love which must
be denied, there was also one which might be indulged. Without
trammelling himself with vows, he cheered his soul with the image of the
life he might yet fulfil, shedding on all under his charge the blessings
of his activity, patience, and love; and daily casting off the burden of
the day, leaving all care for the morrow to such as, happier than
himself, would have the future the image of the present.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

FIRST HOSPITALITY.

The Greys needed only to be asked to come and dine before the rest of
the world could have an opportunity of seeing the bride and bridegroom.
They had previously settled among themselves that they should be
invited, and the answer was given on the instant. The only doubt was
how far down in the family the pleasure ought to extend. Sydney was
full of anxiety about it. His mother decided that he ought to be asked,
but that perhaps he had better not go, as he would be in the way; and
Sophia was sure it would be very dull for him; a sentence which made
Sydney rather sulky. But Hester insisted on having him, and pleaded
that William Levitt would come and meet him, and if the lads should find
the drawing-room dull, there was the surgery, with some very curious
things in it, where they might be able to amuse themselves. So Sydney
was to take up his lot with the elderly ones, and the little girls were
to be somewhat differently entertained another day.

Oh, the anxieties of a young wife's first dinner-party! If remembered,
they become laughable enough when looked back upon from future years;
but they are no laughing matter at the time. The terror lest there
should be too little on the table, and the consequent danger of there
being too much: the fear at once of worrying the cook with too many
directions, and leaving any necessary thing unsaid: the trembling doubt
of any power of entertainment that may exist in the hous