navy; and has, doubtless, adopted his wife's country as his own."
"That is it," said Margaret. "It seems so selfish in me to regret it," trying to smile, "and yet he is lost to me, and I am so lonely." Mr. Lennox turned over his papers, and wished that he were as rich and prosperous as he believed he should be some day. Mr. Bell blew his nose, but, otherwise, he also kept silence; and Margaret, in a minute or two, had apparently recovered her usual composure. She thanked Mr. Lennox very courteously for his trouble; all the more courteously and graciously because she was conscious that, by her behaviour, he might have probably been led to imagine that he had given her needless pain. Yet it was pain she would not have been without.
Mr. Bell came up to wish her good-bye.
"Margaret!" said he, as he fumbled with his gloves. "I am going down to Helstone to-morrow, to look at the old place. Would you like to come with me? Or would it give you too much pain? Speak out, don't be afraid."
"Oh, Mr. Bell," said she—and could say no more. But she took his old gouty hand, and kissed it.
"Come, come; that's enough," said he, reddening with awkwardness. "I suppose your aunt Shaw will trust you with me. We'll go to-morrow morning, and we shall get there about two o'clock, I fancy. We'll take a snack, and order dinner at the little inn—the Lennard Arms, it used to be,—and go and get an appetite in the forest. Can you stand it, Margaret? It will be a trial, I know, to both of us, but it will be a pleasure to me, at least. And
