Mr. Singleton then complimented Margaret upon the number of hearts she had won, and said he expected to be besieged the next day by her different suitors.
Margaret said that Mr. Singleton was very flattering, and thought no more of the effect she was said to have produced.
"Well, Harriet," said Mr. Singleton after he had cleared his throat two or three times, "you were rather in a hurry to come away this evening."
"Yes, Sir," returned Harriet, in a short decided tone.
"How was that, eh?" asked her uncle.
"I was bored," returned Harriet as shortly as before.
This was conclusive, and an ominous silence prevailed. Margaret feared that Harriet was mortally offended with her, and began to think that her threat of leaving Singleton Manor the next day might come to be put in practice. She felt constrained--distressed. There was not light enough to see Harriet's face, and she hardly knew how to end her suspense. At last she timidly put her hand into that of her wilful friend. Harriet snatched hold of it, and pressed it suddenly to her lips. Margaret was almost affected to tears by this little incident. She hoped that the storm had blown over, but she was satisfied that, at least, Harriet's displeasure did not extend to her.
As soon as the carriage door was opened, Harriet sprang out without waiting for the steps to be let down, and dashed through the hall into the drawing-room. Mr. Singleton saying something about "a storm brewing," handed Margaret out and followed his niece.
She took up her night-candle, nodded to her uncle and beckoned Margaret to follow her. As soon as she reached her dressing-room, she began in silence to take off her ornaments from her dress and hair. Then she held out her hand at a little distance, and watched it for a few moments with great attention. It trembled.
"Margaret, ma mie," said she, raising her head. "I am going to be ill; will you mind sleeping with me for once?"
Margaret willingly gave her consent. Harriet stooped over her desk, and hastily wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper.
"If I am hors-de-combat to-morrow, Margaret," she said, "give this to Mr. Gage."
A stamp of her slender foot, as she pronounced his name, was the only indication of feeling that she betrayed.
Margaret really did not know if it was a cartel of defiance, but she thought it better to promise compliance.
"Then kiss me, ma mie, and go to sleep," said Harriet, "we will talk over our adventures to-morrow."
CHAPTER VI.
_Mar._ Yes, a letter.
She brings no challenge sure.
THE MAID IN THE MILL.
_Val._ He must not then be angry That loses her.
_Gom._ Oh! that were Sir, unworthy.
_Mir._ A little sorrow he may find.
_Val._ 'Tis manly.
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA.
The next morning Harriet was in a high fever. Mr. Singleton said she had nobody to thank for it but herself. She had no business at a ball when she was suffering from a severe cold, unless she had chosen to go in a fur cloak. That he wondered how any ladies escaped without catching their death at such places; and that he hoped the servant who was gone for the doctor would not be an hour on the road. Margaret seriously alarmed about her friend, had been making the breakfast in silence, until Mr. Singleton's attack upon Harriet led her to say, with tearful eyes, that she believed Harriet had gone to the ball entirely on her account, and that she felt so very sorry she had not more decidedly opposed it.
Mr. Gage, who had said nothing upon the subject in any way, and who had hardly seemed to know Harriet was not at table, now begged Margaret not to allow herself to feel any concern on that point, for that he believed Miss Conway had been always rather remarkable for her imprudences.
Margaret always disliked his polite phrases, and the persuasive interest of his manner, but now they seemed more than ever out of place. The slip of paper that Harriet had entrusted to her was lying folded by her side--she had no idea what it might contain; but now, seeing Mr.
Humphries standing at the window with Mr. Singleton, she took it up timidly, and said with a little hesitation:--"Harriet desired me to give you this paper, Mr. Gage."
He took it up very politely, glanced at it, and handed it back to her.
It contained only two words:--"_Go away._"
He drew his chair nearer to Margaret, glanced at the window, and then said in a low voice:--"Perhaps you will tell Miss Conway, that my respect for Mr. and Mrs. Singleton will not admit of my complying _immediately_ with her demand."
"I will," said Margaret.
She felt pleased with his reply, and with his straightforward manner; and she hoped that she was not considered a party concerned in so abrupt a missive. And yet she could hardly help laughing, it appeared to her so very ridiculous.
Mr. Gage took up the paper and looked at it again. "I think I need hardly _write_ an answer," he said.
He seemed as little inclined to be grave as Margaret. She assured him that she would deliver his message faithfully. He twisted up the paper, and seemed about to burn it, when he drew it back, said it was really worth preserving, and added something, as if to himself, about its being "so like a spoilt child."
Like most men, who think a spoilt child the perfection of womankind, until they have her, when their opinion changes inconveniently fast.
Then turning to Margaret, who was about to leave the room, he said "that he could not avoid expressing his thanks for her skilful interference last night; that it was most kind in her to undertake so difficult and unpleasing a task; and for himself, he was grateful to her for preventing what might have been annoying to all parties."
Margaret thought he could not have been more glad than she was to prevent a scene; she made some quiet remark to his compliment, and went back to her friend's room.
For three days, Margaret was a voluntary prisoner with Harriet. Every morning after breakfast, when she was locking up the tea-chest, Mr.
Humphries made it a point to sidle up to her, and ask "if she could not make him of any use; if he should not drive over to G----, and get any thing for Miss Conway." He likewise, at the same period, warned Miss Capel against the dangers of attending too closely upon her sick friend.
"It is all very well for a day, you know," he said, "but how any body can stand being shut up in a sick room for so long, I can't imagine; and I really think, Miss Capel, I----" and here Mr. Humphries looked round, as if he was anxious to hide behind some of the furniture, "I think, indeed, you are beginning to look pale."
"Oh! I shall do very well," said Margaret, smiling, "Harriet will soon be down stairs, I hope."
"And in the meantime," said Mr. Gage, with deep anxiety, "I fear you are injuring your health by your kind exertions."
Margaret thought he might as well expend a little of his interest upon Harriet's health, which at that time was in rather a more precarious state than hers, but she said "it was a pleasure to her to sit with Harriet, for she well knew how long the days appeared in illness."
"That is very--I mean it is just what I--you are all goodness, I am sure," faltered Mr. Humphries.
Mr. Gage could not but feel the most sovereign contempt for the manner in which Mr. Humphries attempted to show his interest for Margaret: instead of whispering a well-turned phrase into her long tresses, to stand blushing and stammering like an idiot. So after staring haughtily at both for a moment, he loitered away to the stable.
Margaret had a note to write for Harriet, and as during this process her eyes were fixed on the paper, Mr. Humphries found it less difficult to keep up a conversation with her.
"Does Miss Conway make a good invalid?" he said.
"Yes, indeed," said Margaret, "she is very patient."
"You would be very patient," said Mr. Humphries, with his usual gesture of attempting to hide under the table.