Tom and I exchanged side glances, remembering Ned's former
wish that he might imitate his Irish friend by taking his sister to
London to catch a fortune with. As for Margaret, as matters stood, it
would be something to go to London, relying on her beauty. I fancied I
saw that thought in her look.
Mr. Faringfield, who had heard with cold heedlessness my mother's
offer and Ned's, now rang the bell. Noah appeared, with a sad,
affrighted face--he had been listening at the door--and cast a furtive
glance at Margaret, in token of commiseration.
"Bring Mrs. Winwood's cloak," said Mr. Faringfield to the old negro.
"Then open the door for her and Mr. Edward."
While Noah was absent on this errand, and Margaret waited passively,
Tom went to her, kissed her cheek, and then came away without a word.
"You'll accept Mrs. Russell's invitation, dear," said Mrs.
Faringfield, in tears, "and we can see you every day."
"Certainly, for the present," replied Margaret, who did not weep, but
spoke in a singularly gentle voice.
"And I, too, for to-night, with my best thanks," added Ned, who had
not been invited, but whom my mother preferred not to refuse.
Noah brought in the cloak, and placed it around Madge with an unusual
attentiveness, prolonging the slight service to its utmost possible
length, and keeping an eye for any sign of relenting on the part of
his master.
My mother and I stood waiting for Margaret, while Mrs.
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