unt
Flora's being in the house. She seemed to have a feeling, as if telling
everything to her aunt were like rendering up her account to her mother,
and, at different times, she related the whole, looking back on the
various decisions she had had to make or to influence, and reviewing
her own judgments, though often with self-blame, not with acuteness
of distress, but rather with a humble trust in the Infinite Mercy that
would atone for all shortcomings and infirmities, truly sorrowed for.

On the whole it was a peaceful and grateful retrospect; the brothers all
doing so well in their several ways, and such a comfort to their father.
Tom, concerning whom she had made the greatest mistake, might be looked
upon as rescued by Norman. Aubrey, Margaret said, smiling, was Ethel's
child, and had long been off her mind; Hector, to her quite a brother,
would miss her almost more than her own brothers, but good honest
fellow, he had a home here; and, whispered Margaret, smiling and glowing
a little, "don't tell any one, for it is a secret of secrets. Hector
told me one evening that, if he could be very steady, he hoped he might
yet have Blanche at Maplewood. Poor little White Mayflower, it won't
be for want of liking on her part, and she so blushes and watches
when Hector comes near, that I sometimes think that he might have said
something like it to her."

Mrs. Arnott gave no opinion on the plan for Norman and Meta; but
Margaret, however, took all for granted, and expressed warm hopes for
their sakes, that they would go out with Mrs. Arnott; then, when the
suggestion seemed to astonish her aunt, who thought they were waiting
for his ordination, she said, "The fact is, that he would like to be
ordained where he is to work; but I believe they do not like to say
anything about the wedding because of me. Now, of all persons, I must
chiefly rejoice in what may help to teach in those islands. I cannot
bear to be a hindrance. Whatever happens, Aunt Flora, will you take care
that they know this?"

As to her father, Margaret was at rest. He had much more calmness than
when he was more new to grief, and could bear far more patiently and
hopefully than at first. He lived more on his affections above, and
much as he loved those below, he did not rest in them as once, and could
better afford to have been removed. "Besides," said Margaret serenely,
"it has been good for him to have been gradually weaned from depending
on me, so that it is