Ethel who is really necessary to him."

For herself, Margaret was perfectly content and happy. She knew the
temptation of her character had been to be the ruler and manager of
everything, and she saw it had been well for her to have been thus
assigned the part of Mary rather than of Martha. She remembered with
thankful joy the engagement with Alan Ernescliffe, and though she still
wore tokens of mourning for him, it was with a kind of pleasure in them.
There had been so little promise of happiness from the first, that there
was far more peace in thinking of him as sinking into rest in Harry's
arms, than as returning to grieve over her decline; and that last gift
of his, the church, had afforded her continual delight, and above all
other earthly pursuits, smoothed away the languor and weariness of
disease, as she slowly sank to join him. Now that her aunt had come to
bring back a sunbeam of her childhood, Margaret declared that she had no
more grief or care, except one, and that a very deep and sad one--namely
poor Flora.

Mrs. Arnott had at first been inclined to fear that her goddaughter was
neglecting her own family, since she had not been at home this whole
year, but the slightest betrayal of this suspicion roused Margaret to
an eager defence. She had not a doubt that Flora would gladly have been
with her, but she believed that she was not acting by her own choice,
or more truly, that her husband was so devoted to her, that she felt the
more bound to follow his slightest wishes, however contrary to her own.
The season had been spent in the same whirl that had, last year,
been almost beyond human power, even when stimulated by enjoyment
and success; and now, when her spirits were lowered, and her health
weakened, Meta had watched and trembled for her, though never able
to obtain an avowal that it was an overstrain, and while treated most
affectionately, never admitted within her barrier of reserve.

"If I could see poor Flora comforted, or if even she would only let me
enter into her troubles," Margaret said, sighing, "I should be content."

The consecration day came near, and the travellers began to return. Meta
was in a state of restlessness, which in her was very pretty, under the
disguise of a great desire to be useful. She fluttered about the house,
visited Margaret, played with Gertrude, set the drawing-room ornaments
to rights--a task which Ethel was very glad to depute to her, and made
a great many expediti