"Indeed, Miss!" said Dixon; “well! I can preserve myself from priests, and from churches; but love steals in unawares! I think it's as well I should not go."
Margaret was afraid of letting her mind run too much upon this Spanish plan. But it took off her thoughts from too impatiently dwelling upon her desire to have all explained to Mr. Thornton. Mr. Bell appeared for the present to be stationary at Oxford, and to have no immediate purpose of going to Milton, and some secret restraint seemed to hang over Margaret, and prevent her from even asking, or alluding again to any probability of such a visit on his part. Nor did she feel at liberty to name what Edith had told her of the idea he had entertained,—it might be but for five minutes,—of going to Spain. He had never named it at Helstone, during all that sunny day of leisure; it was very probably but the fancy of a moment,—but if it were true, what a bright outlet it would be from the monotony of her present life, which was beginning to fall upon her.
The course of Margaret's day was this: a quiet hour or two before a late breakfast; an endless discussion of plans, at which, although they none of them concerned her, she was expected to be present to give her sympathy, if she could not assist with her advice; an endless number of notes to write, which Edith invariably left to her with many caressing compliments as to her eloquence du billet; a little play with Sholto, as he returned from his walk; lunch; the care of the children during the servant's dinner; a drive or callers; and some dinner or evening engagement for her aunt and
