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When the prayer was over and Margaret stood once more shyly facing her audience, she could scarcely keep the tremble out of her voice: "Oh," said she, casting aside ceremony, "if I had known the missionary was here I should not have dared to try and lead this meeting to-day. Won't you please come up here and talk to us for a little while now, Mr. Brownleigh?"
"Well," said Margaret, with some warmth, "I don't know that they are any worse than the stingy saints who have made their money by saving, and act as if they expected to carry it with them." "Saints or sinners, it does not make much difference to me," now put in Mrs.
But he, with his quick intuitive sympathy, read in her face, as in a mirror, the reflections of his own moody depression, and turned it off with an effort. 'You shall be told all, Margaret. Only help me to tell your mother. I think I could do anything but that: the idea of her distress turns me sick with dread. If I tell you all, perhaps you could break it to her to-morrow.
Now nothing could have been further apart than this little weather-beaten old woman and Margaret's gentle, dove-like mother, with her abundant soft gray hair, her cameo features, and her pretty, gray dresses; but Margaret had a vision of what glory might bring to Mom Wallis, and she wanted to help it along.
It was better that the night should pass over before she was told of her son's arrival. Dr. Donaldson's appointed visit would bring nervous excitement enough for the evening; and he might tell them how to prepare her for seeing Frederick. He was there, in the house; could be summoned at any moment. Margaret could not sit still.
Along the placid banks of the Lech, on which river the city stands, the "hydra of rebellion" lay ever coiled and threatening. Brederode was supposed to be revolving vast schemes, both political and military, and Margaret of Parma was kept in continual apprehension by the bravado of this very noisy conspirator. She called upon William of Orange, as usual, for assistance.
"When all's told, it is Margaret and I and God!" "No. There are others, and other things. All the world's forces are against you." "No, they are not! They are turning with me. I feel them; I feel them. I am not afraid." Then she took command, while Travers stood amazed. She put her hands on his shoulders and held him so before the bar of her crude, woman-judgment. "Answer me, my beloved!
She ought to meet eligible young men and that sort of thing." "Not yet," Margaret cried. The two were having a cozy cup of tea at his apartment. "You're so terribly worldly, David, that you frighten me sometimes." "You don't know where I will end, is that the idea?" "I don't know where Eleanor will end, if you're already thinking of eligible young men for her."
Tita's face is turned aside. Her hand is still resting on the table, the verse and the little plant within it. "He will be coming soon," says Margaret again. "Yes, I know." "You will be kind to him, dearest?" "That I don't know." "Oh! I think you do," says Margaret; "I think you must see that he " "Let me think it out, Meg," says Tita, turning a very pale face to hers.
"But ye said ye would let me have it!" persisted Peg. "Don't you wish to know who the man is, whom I have just described, my dear Miss O'Connell?" "No, I don't. Why should I? With me father waitin' in New York for me an' I'm waitin' for that " and again she pointed to his pocket-book. "Miss O'Connell may I say Margaret, I was your uncle's adviser his warm personal friend.
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