oom, Margaret could not have settled with herself
whether there was most pain or pleasure in the prospect of this evening.
Five minutes before, she had believed that she should spend it at the
Greys'--should hear the monotonous hiss of the urn, which seemed to take
up its song, every time she went, where it had left off last--should see
Mrs Grey's winks from behind it--should have the same sort of cake, cut
by Sophia into pieces of exactly the same size--should hear Sydney told
to be quiet, and the little girls to go to bed--should have to play Mrs
Grey's favourite waltz, and sing Mr Grey's favourite song--and at last,
to refuse a glass of sherry three times over, and come away, after
hearing much wonder expressed that the evening was gone already. Now,
instead of this, there was to be the fear and constraint of Philip's
presence, so unlike what that had ever been before!--no longer gay,
easy, and delightful, but all that was awkward. No one would be sure of
what the others were feeling; or whether there was any sufficient reason
for their mutual feelings being so changed. Who would find the
conversation? What could be talked about which would not bring one or
another into collision with Mrs Rowland or Miss Bruce? But yet, there
would be his presence, and with it, bliss. There would be his very
voice; and something of his thoughts could not but come out. She was
better pleased than if his evening was to be spent anywhere else.

Dinner passed, she did not know how, except that her brother thought
Mrs Enderby not materially worse than when he saw her last. The
tea-tray came and stood an hour--Mr Hope being evidently restless and
on the watch. He said at last that it would be better to get tea over
before Enderby came; and Margaret repeated in her own mind that it _was_
less awkward; and yet she was disappointed. The moment the table was
cleared, _his_ knock was heard. He would not have tea: he had been
making his mother's tea, and had had a cup with her. And now, what was
Hope's judgment on her state of health?

The gentlemen had scarcely entered upon the subject when a note was
brought in for Margaret. Everything made her nervous; but the purport
of this note was merely to ask for a book which she had promised to lend
Mrs Levitt. As she went up to her room for it, she was vexed that the
interruption had occurred now; and was heartily angry with herself that
she could command herself no better, and be no mor