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"Margaret important," it went on: "I should like you to have some companion to take walks with. Do try Miss Conder." "I have been a little walk with Miss Conder." "But she is not really interesting. If only you had Helen." "I have Tibby, Aunt Juley." "No, but he has to do his Chinese. Some real companion is what you need. Really, Helen is odd." "Helen is odd, very," agreed Margaret.
Poor Annie did not understand that it requires a nature seldom met upon this earth, to be solaced, under disappointment and failure, by another's joy. Annie had made up her mind to say very little to Margaret about what had happened the evening before.
For a time the old fellow gazed at her, saying nothing; and then came slow, deep-rumbling words: "Margaret, air you jealous o' that po' little grave down yander under the hill?
This is with many the reason why, and the mode in which, the conflict is endured to the end." "But the beginning," said Margaret; "what can be the beginning of this wonderful experience?" "The same with that of all the most serious of our experiences levity, unconsciousness, confidence.
There is a hill from which a most extensive prospect is had of the city, the teeming valley, with a score of villages and innumerable white spires, of forests and meadows and broken mountain ranges. It was a view that Margaret the night before had promised to show Henderson, that he might see what to her was the loveliest landscape in the world. Whether they saw the view I do not know.
In this way I see a good many little faces every day." "And some others too, I should hope; some besides little faces?" Miss Young was silent. Margaret hastened on "I suppose most people would say here what is said everywhere else about the nobleness and privilege of the task of teaching children. But I do not envy those who have it to do.
"I cannot say much good or much harm of him," replied he. "Was the Court of Francis I. very brilliant?" "Very brilliant; but those of his grandsons infinitely surpassed it. In the time of Mary Stuart and Margaret of Valois it was a land of enchantment a temple, sacred to pleasures of every kind; those of the mind were not neglected.
"Don't talk to me!" she replied, her lip quivering. "I can't bear to look at you!" and she passed into her room. It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own pain and for that of the man she loved better than her life.
In the, last act, after a short scene on the Brocken and a conventional ballet, which are rarely performed in England, we are taken to the prison where Margaret lies condemned to death for the murder of her child. Faust is introduced by the aid of Mephistopheles, and tries to persuade her to fly with him.
I am amazed that L , who has really a good understanding, does not make these reflections, and is not determined by this calculation. For his, for my own, but most for Leonora's sake, I wish that this cruel suspense were at an end. Adieu, dear and amiable Gabrielle. These things are managed better in France. DEAR MARGARET, L Castle.
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