Bell should accompany her to the parsonage, and see the--the word\"improvements\" had half slipped out of her mouth, but she substitutedthe more cautious term \"alterations\" which the present Vicar wasmaking. Margaret did not care a straw about seeing the alterations,which jarred upon her fond recollection of what her home had been; butshe longed to see the old place once more, even though she shiveredaway from the pain which she knew she should feel.
The parsonage was so altered, both inside and out, that the real pain wasless than she had anticipated. It was not like the same place. Thegarden, the grass-plat, formerly so daintily trim that even a stray rose-leaf seemed like a fleck on its exquisite arrangement and propriety, wasstrewed with children\"s things; a bag of marbles here, a hoop there; astraw-hat forced down upon a rose-tree as on a peg, to the destruction ofa long beautiful tender branch laden with flowers, which in former dayswould have been trained up tenderly, as if beloved. The little squarematted hall was equally filled with signs of merry healthy roughchildhood.
\"Ah!\" said Mrs. Hepworth, \"you must excuse this untidiness, Miss Hale.
When the nursery is finished, I shall insist upon a little order. We arebuilding a nursery out of your room, I believe. How did you manage,Miss Hale, without a nursery?\"
\"We were but two,\" said Margaret. \"You have many children, I presume?\"
\"Seven. Look here! we are throwing out a window to the road on thisside. Mr. Hepworth is spending an immense deal of money on thishouse; but really it was scarcely habitable when we came--for so large afamily as ours I mean, of course.\" Every room in the house waschanged, besides the one of which Mrs. Hepworth spoke, which hadbeen Mr. Hale\"s study formerly; and where the green gloom anddelicious quiet of the place had conduced, as he had said, to a habit ofmeditation, but, perhaps, in some degree to the formation of a charactermore fitted for thought than action. The new window gave a view of theroad, and had many advantages, as Mrs. Hepworth pointed out. From itthe wandering sheep of her husband\"s flock might be seen, whostraggled to the tempting beer-house, unobserved as they might hope,but not unobserved in reality; for the active Vicar kept his eye on theroad, even during the composition of his most orthodox sermons, andhad a hat and stick hanging ready at hand to seize, before sallying outafter his parishioners, who had need of quick legs if they could take
refuge in the \"Jolly Forester\" before the teetotal Vicar had arrested them.
The whole family were quick, brisk, loud-talking, kind-hearted, and nottroubled with much delicacy of perception. Margaret feared that Mrs.
Hepworth would find out that Mr. Bell was playing upon her, in theadmiration he thought fit to express for everything that especially gratedon his taste. But no! she took it all literally, and with such good faith,that Margaret could not help remonstrating with him as they walkedslowly away from the parsonage back to their inn.
\"Don\"t scold, Margaret. It was all because of you. If she had not shownyou every change with such evident exultation in their superior sense, inperceiving what an improvement this and that would be, I could havebehaved well. But if you must go on preaching, keep it till after dinner,when it will send me to sleep, and help my digestion.\"
They were both of them tired, and Margaret herself so much so, that shewas unwilling to go out as she had proposed to do, and have anotherramble among the woods and fields so close to the home of herchildhood. And, somehow, this visit to Helstone had not been all--hadnot been exactly what she had expected. There was change everywhere;slight, yet pervading all. Households were changed by absence, ordeath, or marriage, or the natural mutations brought by days and monthsand years, which carry us on imperceptibly from childhood to youth,and thence through manhood to age, whence we drop like fruit, fullyripe, into the quiet mother earth. Places were changed--a tree gone here,a bough there, bringing in a long ray of light where no light was before-aroad was trimmed and narrowed, and the green straggling pathway byits side enclosed and cultivated. A great improvement it was called; butMargaret sighed over the old picturesqueness, the old gloom, and thegrassy wayside of former days. She sate by the window on the littlesettle, sadly gazing out upon the gathering shades of night, whichharmonised well with her pensive thought. Mr. Bell slept soundly, afterhis unusual exercise through the day. At last he was roused by theentrance of the tea-tray, brought in by a flushed-looking country-girl,who had evidently been finding some variety from her usual occupationof waiter, in assisting this day in the hayfield.
\"Hallo! Who\"s there! Where are we? Who\"s that,--Margaret? Oh, now Iremember all. I could not imagine what woman was sitting there in sucha doleful attitude, with her hands clasped straight out upon her knees,and her face looking so steadfastly before her. What were you lookingat?\" asked Mr. Bell, coming to the window, and standing behindMargaret.
\"Nothing,\" said she, rising up quickly, and speaking as cheerfully as shecould at a moment\"s notice.
\"Nothing indeed! A bleak back-ground of trees, some white linen hung
out on the sweet-briar hedge, and a great waft of damp air. Shut thewindow, and come in and make tea.\"
Margaret was silent for some time. She played with her teaspoon, anddid not attend particularly to what Mr. Bell said. He contradicted her,and she took the same sort of smiling notice of his opinion as if he hadagreed with her. Then she sighed, and putting down her spoon, shebegan, apropos of nothing at all, and in the high-pitched voice whichusually shows that the speaker has been thinking for some time on thesubject that they wish to introduce--\"Mr. Bell, you remember what wewere saying about Frederick last night, don\"t you?\"
\"Last night. Where was I? Oh, I remember! Why it seems a week ago.
Yes, to be sure, I recollect we talked about him, poor fellow.\"
\"Yes--and do you not remember that Mr. Lennox spoke about his havingbeen in England about the time of dear mamma\"s death?\" askedMargaret, her voice now lower than usual.
\"I recollect. I hadn\"t heard of it before.\"
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