at sort of life, that, perhaps I said more than I should have
done. You know, John, that it hasn't been quite pleasant between us
for the last few days."

John did know this, and he knew also that there was not much
probability of pleasantness for some days to come. His mother's last
words to him on the preceding evening, as he was leaving her after
having told his story, did not give much promise of pleasantness for
Margaret. "John," she had said, "nothing on earth shall induce me to
live in the same house with Margaret Mackenzie as your wife. If you
choose to break up everything for her sake, you can do it. I cannot
control you. But remember, it will be your doing."

Margaret then asked him what she was to do, and where she was to
live. She would fain have asked him when they were to be married, but
she did not dare to make inquiry on that point. He told her that, for
the present, she must remain at the Cedars. If she went away it would
be regarded as an open quarrel, and moreover, he did not wish that
she should live by herself in London lodgings. "We shall be able to
see how things go for a day or two," he said. To this she submitted
without a murmur, and then Lady Ball came into the room.

They were both very nervous in watching her first behaviour, but were
not at all prepared for the line of conduct which she adopted. John
Ball and Margaret had separated when they heard the rustle of her
dress. He had made a step towards the window, and she had retreated
to the other side of the fire-place. Lady Ball, on entering the room,
had been nearest to Margaret, but she walked round the table away
from her usual place for prayers, and accosted her son.

"Good-morning, John," she said, giving him her hand.

Margaret waited a second or two, and then addressed her aunt.

"Good-morning, aunt," she said, stepping half across the rug.

But her aunt, turning her back to her, moved into the embrasure of
the window. It had been decided that there was to be an absolute cut
between them! As long as she remained in that house Lady Ball would
not speak to her. John said nothing, but a black frown came upon his
brow. Poor Margaret retired, rebuked, to her corner by the chimney.
Just at that moment the girls and children rushed in from the study,
with the daily governess who came every morning, and Sir John rang
for the servants to come to prayers.

I wonder whether that old lady's heart was at all softened as she
prayed? whethe