And now all Margaret’s anxiety was for the train to come.  She hid herself once more in the ladies’ waiting-room, and fancied every noise was Leonards’ step—­every loud and boisterous voice was his.  But no one came near her until the train drew up; when she was civilly helped into a carriage by a porter, into whose face she durst not look till they were in motion, and then she saw that it was not Leonards’.

CHAPTER XXXIII

PEACE

’Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed,
Never to be disquieted! 
My last Good Night—­thou wilt not wake
Till I thy fate shall overtake.’ 
Dr. King.

Home seemed unnaturally quiet after all this terror and noisy commotion.  Her father had seen all due preparation made for her refreshment on her return; and then sate down again in his accustomed chair, to fall into one of his sad waking dreams.  Dixon had got Mary Higgins to scold and direct in the kitchen; and her scolding was not the less energetic because it was delivered in an angry whisper; for, speaking above her breath she would have thought irreverent, as long as there was any one dead lying in the house.  Margaret had resolved not to mention the crowning and closing affright to her father.  There was no use in speaking about it; it had ended well; the only thing to be feared was lest Leonards should in some way borrow money enough to effect his purpose of following Frederick to London, and hunting him out there.  But there were immense chances against the success of any such plan; and Margaret determined not to torment herself by thinking of what she could do nothing to prevent.  Frederick would be as much on his guard as she could put him; and in a day or two at most he would be safely out of England.

‘I suppose we shall hear from Mr. Bell to-morrow,’ said Margaret.

‘Yes,’ replied her father.  ‘I suppose so.’

’If he can come, he will be here to-morrow evening, I should think.’

’If he cannot come, I shall ask Mr. Thornton to go with me to the funeral.  I cannot go alone.  I should break down utterly.’

‘Don’t ask Mr. Thornton, papa.  Let me go with you,’ said Margaret, impetuously.

‘You!  My dear, women do not generally go.’

’No:  because they can’t control themselves.  Women of our class don’t go, because they have no power over their emotions, and yet are ashamed of showing them.  Poor women go, and don’t care if they are seen overwhelmed with grief.  But I promise you, papa, that if you will let me go, I will be no trouble.  Don’t have a stranger, and leave me out.  Dear papa! if Mr. Bell cannot come, I shall go.  I won’t urge my wish against your will, if he does.’

Mr. Bell could not come.  He had the gout.  It was a most affectionate letter, and expressed great and true regret for his inability to attend.  He hoped to come and pay them a visit soon, if they would have him; his Milton property required some looking after, and his agent had written to him to say that his presence was absolutely necessary; or else he had avoided coming near Milton as long as he could, and now the only thing that would reconcile him to this necessary visit was the idea that he should see, and might possibly be able to comfort his old friend.