CHAPTER V.

      MARGARET.

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      From two to three years passed away, and the Midsummer holidays were approaching. Margaret was expected as usual for them, and Jane, delighted to receive her, went about her glad preparations. Margaret would not return to the school, in which she had been a paid teacher for the last year; but was to enter a family as governess. For one efficient, well-educated, accomplished governess to be met with in those days, scores may be counted now—or who profess to be so; and Margaret Tait, though barely nineteen, anticipated a salary of seventy or eighty guineas a year.

      A warm, bright day in June, that on which Mr. Halliburton went to receive Margaret. The coach brought her to its resting-place, the "Bull and Mouth," in St. Martin's-le-Grand, and Mr. Halliburton reached the inn as St. Paul's clock was striking midday. One minute more, and the coach drove in.

      There she was, inside; a tall, fine girl, with a handsome face: a face full of resolution and energy. Margaret Tait had her good qualities, and she had also her faults: a great one, speaking of the latter, was self-will. She opened the door herself and leaped out before any one could help her, all joy and delight.

      "And what about your boxes, Margaret?" questioned Mr. Halliburton, after a few words of greeting. "Have they come this time or not?"

      Margaret laughed. "Yes, they really have. I have not lost them on the road, as I did at Christmas. You will never forget to tell me of that, I am sure! But it was more the guard's fault than mine."

      A few minutes, and Mr. Halliburton, Margaret, and the boxes were lumbering along in one of the old glass coaches.

      "And now tell me about every one," said Margaret. "How is dear mamma?"

      "She is quite well. We are all well. Jane's famous."

      "And my precious little Willy?"

      "Oh," said Mr. Halliburton, quaintly, "he is a great deal too troublesome for anything to be the matter with him. I tell Jane she will have to begin the whipping system soon."

      "And much Jane will attend to you! Is it a pretty baby?"

      Mr. Halliburton raised his eyebrows. "Jane thinks so. I wonder she has not had its likeness taken."

      "Is it christened?" continued Margaret.

      "It is baptized. Jane would not have the christening until you were at home."

      "And its name?"

      "Jane."

      "What a shame! Jane promised me it should be Margaret. Why did she decide upon her own name?"

      "I decided upon it," said Mr. Halliburton. "Yours can wait until the next, Margaret."

      Margaret laughed. "And how are you getting on?"

      "Very well. I have every hour of the day occupied."

      "I don't think you are looking well," rejoined Margaret. "You look thin and fagged."

      "I am always thin, and mine is a fagging profession. Sometimes I feel terribly weary. But I am pretty well upon the whole, Margaret."

      "Will Francis be at home these holidays?"

      "No. He passes them at a gentleman's house in Norfolk—tutor to his sons. Francis is thoroughly industrious and persevering."

      "A contrast to poor Robert, I suppose?"

      "Well—yes; in that sense."

      "There has been some trouble about Robert, has there not?" asked Margaret, her tone becoming grave. "Did he not get discharged?"

      "He received notice of discharge. But I saw the principals and begged him on again. I would not talk about it to him if I were you, Margaret. He is sensitive upon the point. Robert's intentions are good, but his disposition is fickle. He has grown tired of his work and idles his time away; no house of business will put up with that."

      The coach arrived at Mr. Halliburton's. Margaret rushed out of it, giving no one time to assist her, as she had done out of the other coach at the "Bull and Mouth." There was a great deal of impetuosity in Margaret Tait's character. She was quite a contrast to Jane—as she had just remarked there was a contrast between Francis and Robert upon other points—to sensible, lady-like, self-possessed Jane, who came forward so calmly to greet her, a glad depth of affection in her quiet eyes.

      A boisterous embrace to her mother, a boisterous embrace to Jane, all in haste, and then Margaret caught up a little gentleman of some two years old, or more, who was standing holding on to Jane's dress, his great grey eyes, honest, loving, intelligent as were his mother's, cast up in a broad stare at Margaret.

      "You naughty Willy! Have you forgotten Aunt Margaret? Oh, you darling child! Who's this?"

      She carried the boy up to the end of the room, where stood their old servant Mary, nursing an infant of two months old. The baby had great grey eyes also, and they likewise were bent on noisy Margaret. "Oh, Willy, she is prettier than you! I won't nurse you any more. Mary, I'll shake hands with you presently. I must take that enchanting baby first."

      Dropping discarded Willy upon the ground, snatching the baby from Mary's arms, Margaret kissed its pretty face until she made it cry. Jane came to the rescue.

      "You don't understand babies, Margaret. Let Mary take her again. Come upstairs to your room, and make yourself ready for dinner. I think you must be hungry."

      "So hungry that I shall frighten you. Of course, with the thought of coming home, I could not touch breakfast. I hope you have something especially nice!"

      "Your favourite dinner," said Jane, smiling. "Loin of veal and broccoli."

      "How thoughtful you are, Jane!" Margaret could not help exclaiming.

      "Margaret, my dear," called out her mother, as she was leaving the room with Jane.

      Margaret looked back. "What, mamma?"

      "I hope you will not continue to go on with these children as you have begun; otherwise we shall have a quiet house turned into a noisy one."

      "Is it a quiet house?" said Margaret, laughing.

      "As if any house would not be quiet, regulated by Jane!" replied Mrs. Tait. And Margaret, laughing still, followed her sister.

      It is curious to remark how differently things sometimes turn out from what we intended. Had any one asked Mrs. Tait, the day that Margaret came home, what Margaret's future career was to be, she had wondered at the question. "A governess, certainly," would have been her answer; and she would have thought that no power, humanly speaking, could prevent it. And yet, Margaret Tait, as it proved, never did become a governess.

      The holidays were drawing to an end, and a very desirable situation, as was believed, had been found for Margaret by Mr. Halliburton, the negotiations for which were nearly completed. Mr. Halliburton gave private lessons in sundry well-connected families, and thus enabled to hear where ladies were required as governesses, he had recommended Margaret. The recommendation was favourably received, and a day was appointed for Margaret to make a personal visit at the town house of the people in question, when she would most probably be engaged.

      On the previous evening at twilight Mr. Halliburton came home from one of his numerous engagements. Jane was alone. Mrs. Tait, not very well, had retired to rest early, and Margaret was out with Robert. In this, a leisure season of the year, Robert had most of his evenings to himself, after eight o'clock. He generally came home, and he and Margaret would go out together. Mr. Halliburton sat down at one of the windows in silence.

      Jane went up to him, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder. "You are very tired, Edgar?"