CHAPTER XLIII

MARGARET’S FLITTIN’

’The meanest thing to which we bid adieu,
Loses its meanness in the parting hour.’ 
ELLIOTT.

Mrs. Shaw took as vehement a dislike as it was possible for one of her gentle nature to do, against Milton.  It was noisy, and smoky, and the poor people whom she saw in the streets were dirty, and the rich ladies over-dressed, and not a man that she saw, high or low, had his clothes made to fit him.  She was sure Margaret would never regain her lost strength while she stayed in Milton; and she herself was afraid of one of her old attacks of the nerves.  Margaret must return with her, and that quickly.  This, if not the exact force of her words, was at any rate the spirit of what she urged on Margaret, till the latter, weak, weary, and broken-spirited, yielded a reluctant promise that, as soon as Wednesday was over she would prepare to accompany her aunt back to town, leaving Dixon in charge of all the arrangements for paying bills, disposing of furniture, and shutting up the house.  Before that Wednesday—­that mournful Wednesday, when Mr. Hale was to be interred, far away from either of the homes he had known in life, and far away from the wife who lay lonely among strangers (and this last was Margaret’s great trouble, for she thought that if she had not given way to that overwhelming stupor during the first sad days, she could have arranged things otherwise)—­before that Wednesday, Margaret received a letter from Mr. Bell.

’MY DEAR MARGARET:—­I did mean to have returned to Milton on Thursday, but unluckily it turns out to be one of the rare occasions when we, Plymouth Fellows, are called upon to perform any kind of duty, and I must not be absent from my post.  Captain Lennox and Mr. Thornton are here.  The former seems a smart, well-meaning man; and has proposed to go over to Milton, and assist you in any search for the will; of course there is none, or you would have found it by this time, if you followed my directions.  Then the Captain declares he must take you and his mother-in-law home; and, in his wife’s present state, I don’t see how you can expect him to remain away longer than Friday.  However, that Dixon of yours is trusty; and can hold her, or your own, till I come.  I will put matters into the hands of my Milton attorney if there is no will; for I doubt this smart captain is no great man of business.  Nevertheless, his moustachios are splendid.  There will have to be a sale, so select what things you wish reserved.  Or you can send a list afterwards.  Now two things more, and I have done.  You know, or if you don’t, your poor father did, that you are to have my money and goods when I die.  Not that I mean to die yet; but I name this lust to explain what is coming.  These Lennoxes seem very fond of you now; and perhaps may continue to be; perhaps not.  So it is best to start with a formal agreement;