e is no refuge within the
horizon of endurance? Be these things right or wrong, they are: and
while they are, will the woman who loves, unrequited, feel desperate on
the discovery of her loneliness--and, the more pure and proud, innocent
and humble, the more lonely.

For some little time past, Margaret had been in a state of great
tranquillity about Philip--a tranquillity which she now much wondered
at--now that it was all over. She had had an unconscious faith in him;
and, living in this faith, she had forgotten herself, she had not
thought of the future, she had not felt impatient for any change. Often
as she wished for his presence, irksome as she had sometimes felt it to
know nothing of him from week to week, she had been tacitly satisfied
that she was in his thoughts as he was in hers; and this had been enough
for the time. What an awakening from this quiescent state was hers this
day!

It was from no other than Dr Levitt that she had heard in the morning
that Mr Enderby was shortly going to be married to Miss Mary Bruce.
Dr Levitt was at Widow Rye's when Margaret went, and had walked part of
the way home with her. During the walk, this piece of news had dropped
out, while they were talking of Mrs Enderby's health. All that Dr
Levitt knew of Miss Mary Bruce was, that she was of sufficiently good
family and fortune to make the Rowlands extremely well satisfied with
the match; that Mrs Enderby had never seen her, and that it would be
some time before she could see her, as the whole family of the Bruces
was at Rome for the winter. When Dr Levitt parted from Margaret at the
gate of the churchyard, these last words contained the hope she clung
to--a hope which might turn into the deepest reason for despair. Philip
had certainly not been abroad. Was it likely that he should lately have
become engaged to any young lady who had been some time in Rome? It was
not likely: but then, if it was true, he must have been long engaged: he
must have been engaged at the time of his last visit of six days, when
he had talked over his views of life with Margaret, and been so anxious
to obtain hers:--he must surely have been engaged in the summer, when
she found Tieck in the desk, and when he used to spend so many evenings
at the Greys'--certainly not on Hester's account. At one moment she was
confident all this could not be; she was relieved; she stepped lightly.
The next moment, a misgiving came that it was all too true; t