At this moment the boat, which Roper, in his trouble, had ceased to guide, struck violently against some piers the fishermen had sunk along the river. It was almost capsized, and the water rushed in through a hole made by the stakes. “We are going to sink,” cried Roper, leaving Margaret and rushing toward the oar he had abandoned. “Well! do what you can to prevent it,” replied the young girl coldly, as she seated herself in her former position in the stern of the boat. But the water continued to rush in, and was already as high as their feet. Roper seized his cloak, and made it serve, though not without considerable difficulty, to close the vent through which the water entered. A plank which he found in the bottom of the boat was used to finish his work, and they were able to resume their course; the boat, however, made but slow way, and it was constantly necessary to bail out the water that leaked through the badly-repaired opening. Night came on, and it was already quite late when they succeeded in reaching the Chelsea terrace, at the foot of which they landed. Roper, having attached the boat to the chain used for that purpose, opened the gate, and they entered together. Margaret’s heart throbbed violently; this lonely house, deprived of him who had made the happiness of her life; the gate which they had closed without his having entered it――everything, even to the sound of her own footsteps, pierced her soul with anguish. She passed rapidly through the garden and entered the house, where she found the rest of the family assembled as usual. All appeared sad, Lady More alone excepted; this woman, vulgar and coarse, was not in a condition to comprehend the position in which she found herself; the baseness of her sentiments, the littleness of her soul, rendered her a burden as annoying as she was painful to support. Margaret, in particular, could feel no affection for her. Frank and sincere herself, she abhorred the cunning and artifice her stepmother believed herself bound to employ to make up for her deficiency of intellect; and when, in the midst of a most interesting and elevated conversation, the reasoning of which Margaret caught with so much avidity, she heard her loudly decide a question and pronounce a judgment in the vulgar phrases used among the most obscure class of people, she was not always able to conceal her impatience. Her father, more cheerful, more master of himself, recalled by a glance or a smile his dear Margaret to a degree of patience and respect he was always ready to observe. On entering, therefore, Margaret’s indignation was excited by hearing her stepmother abusing unmercifully poor Henry Pattison, who had wept incessantly ever since the departure of his master. “Till-Wall! Till-Wall!” she cried. “This fool here will never let us have any more peace! Sir Thomas had better have taken him with him; they could have acted the fool together!”