l was made; and it had been so readily granted, that it seemed
as if Richard's caution had been vain in making such a delay, that even
Margaret had begun to fear that the street of by-and-by was leading to
the house of never. Now, however, it was plain that he had been wise.
Opportunity was everything; at another moment, their father might have
been harassed and oppressed, and unable to give his mind to concerns,
which now he could think of with interest, and Richard could not have
caught a more favourable conjuncture.

Ethel was in a wild state of felicity all that evening and the next day,
very unlike her brother, who, dismayed at the open step he had taken,
shrank into himself, and in his shyness dreaded the discussion in the
evening, and would almost have been relieved, if Mr. Wilmot had been
unable to accept the invitation. So quiet and grave was he, that Ethel
could not get him to talk over the matter at all with her, and she was
obliged to bestow all her transports and grand projects on Flora or
Margaret, when she could gain their ears, besides conning them over to
herself, as an accompaniment to her lessons, by which means she tried
Miss Winter's patience almost beyond measure. But she cared not--she
saw a gathering school and rising church, which eclipsed all thought
of present inattentions and gaucheries. She monopolised Margaret in the
twilight, and rhapsodised to her heart's content, talking faster and
faster, and looking more and more excited. Margaret began to feel
a little overwhelmed, and while answering "yes" at intervals, was
considering whether Ethel had not been flying about in an absent
inconsiderate mood all day, and whether it would seem unkind to damp
her ardour, by giving her a hint that she was relaxing her guard over
herself. Before Margaret had steeled herself, Ethel was talking of a
story she had read, of a place something like Cocksmoor. Margaret was
not ready with her recollection, and Ethel, saying it was in a magazine
in the drawing-room chiffonier, declared she would fetch it.

Margaret knew what it was to expect her visitors to return "in one
moment," and with a "now-or-never" feeling she began, "Ethel, dear,
wait," but Ethel was too impetuous to attend. "I'll be back in a
twinkling," she called out, and down she flew, in her speed whisking
away, without seeing it, the basket with Margaret's knitting and all
her notes and papers, which lay scattered on the floor far out of
reach, vexi