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She was not less fair, perhaps, than she had been before; and the ethereal character of her beauty had only been increased by time. Lady Caroline had been seriously distressed lately by the comments made by her acquaintances upon Margaret's appearance. "Very delicate, surely," said one. "Do you think that your daughter is consumptive?" said another.
He leaned over his window-sill, and stared stupidly at the great stone bears carved on the portals of Saint Margaret's; his eyes wandered listlessly over the smooth turf of the Fellows' bowling-green, and the trim parterres full of crocus and anemone and violet which fringed it; he watched the boats skim past him on the winding gleams of the Iscam, and shoot among the water-lilies by the bridge and then he stared upwards at the sun, trying to think of nothing until his eyes watered, and then the sight of a don in the garden below made him shrink back, to avoid observation, into his own room.
Jorian Ketel went straight to Margaret's room, and there, to his infinite surprise, he found the man he had been in search of, pale and motionless, his head in Margaret's lap, and she kneeling over him, mute now, and stricken to stone. Her eyes were dilated yet glazed, and she neither saw the light nor heard the man, nor cared for anything on earth, but the white face in her lap.
For the first time the idea crossed Mary's mind that it was possible the plain little sensible Margaret, so prim and demure, might have power over the heart of the handsome, dashing spirited Will Wilson. Job, too, was rapidly changing his opinion of his new guest. The flying fish went a great way, and his undisguised admiration for Margaret's singing carried him still further.
"And now may I ask where you two gad-abouts are going?" she inquired, noticing Margaret's short skirt and Sam in a pair of stout tramping boots. "To a pond, mother the nearest, I believe. Think of it we have four of them," announced Margaret proudly. "Then I'm going too," declared her mother. "Good!" cried Thayor. "Holcomb says he can easily take us there and back in time for luncheon."
She turned to Arthur gravely. 'Do you remember that day, in this studio, when he kicked Margaret's dog, and you thrashed him? Well, afterwards, when he thought no one saw him, I happened to catch sight of his face. I never saw in my life such malignant hatred. It was the face of a fiend of wickedness. And when he tried to excuse himself, there was a cruel gleam in his eyes which terrified me.
So when he announced that he had registered his sister, Margaret's pulses gave a great thrill of delight. There was so much to do. True, Martha was a good cook and capable, and there was no milk to look after, no churning, no poultry, and the countless things of country life. Miss Cynthia Blackfan came the next week and remodeled the feminine part of the household.
"There was a meeting of the vestry last night, and I mentioned that you had sent in your resignation," Dr. Rannage explained. "And I suppose all the members were delighted with the news." "Why should they? They are all business men, and look well after the temporalities of St. Margaret's.
"Margaret Gordon died three years ago, and everybody in Lindsay went to the funeral. But they didn't see her. The coffin lid was screwed down. And they didn't see Kilmeny either. I would have loved to see HER for Margaret's sake, but I didn't want to see poor Margaret.
Margaret's gaze was intent upon him. "Yet," she marvelled, "you made love to me very tropically." With unconcealed pride, Mr. Kennaston assented. "Didn't I?" he said. "I was in rather good form last night, I thought." "And you were actually prepared to marry me?" she asked "even after you knew I was poor?" "I couldn't very well back out," he submitted, and then cocked his head on one side.
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