ld still have to earn her
bread, it would have been much better for her not to have come among
her rich relations. What good would it then do her to have lived two
or three months in Cavendish Square?

"I wish it were all settled, John," she said; and as she spoke there
was a tear standing in the corner of each eye.

"I wish it were, indeed," said John Ball; but I think that he did not
see the tears.

It was on her tongue to speak some word about the hospital; but she
felt that if she did so now, it would be tantamount to asking him
that question which it did not become her to ask; so she repressed
the word, and sat in silence.

"When the day is positively fixed for the hearing," said he, "I will
be sure to let you know."

"I wish you would let me know nothing further about it, John, till it
is all settled."

"I sometimes almost fancy that I wish the same thing," said he, with
a faint attempt at a smile; and after that he got up and went his
way.

This was not to be endured. Margaret declared to herself that she
could not live and bear it. Let the people around her say what they
would, it could not be that he would treat her in this way if he
intended to make her his wife. It would be better for her to make
up her mind that it was not to be so, and to insist on leaving the
Mackenzies' house. She would go, not again to Arundel Street, but to
some lodging further away, in some furthest recess of London, where
no one would come to her and flurry her with false hopes, and there
remain till she might be allowed to earn her bread. That was the mood
in which Mrs Mackenzie found her late in the afternoon on the day of
Sir John Ball's visit. There was to be a dinner party in the house
that evening, and Margaret began by asking leave to absent herself.

"Nonsense, Margaret," said Mrs Mackenzie; "I won't have anything of
the kind."

"I cannot come down, Mrs Mackenzie; I cannot, indeed."

"That is absolute nonsense. That man has been saying something unkind
to you. Why do you mind what he says?"

"He has not said anything unkind; he has not said anything at all."

"Oh, that's the grief, is it?"

"I don't know what you mean by grief; but if you were situated as I
am you would perceive that you were in a false position."

"I am sure he has been saying something unkind to you."

Margaret hardly knew how to tell her thoughts and feelings, and yet
she wished to tell them. She had resolved that she would tell the
who