Margaret looked up and laughed at this remark. She had a charming child-like laugh. "Perhaps;" said she, after a short pause, "perhaps, in time, he will leave off teazing me." "Never!" returned Mr. Haveloc, "never while he has breath." "Then it can't be helped," said Margaret, with a sigh. "But there is one comfort, my dear uncle always takes my part." "Who would not?" muttered Mr. Haveloc. Margaret did not laugh at this remark. She blushed instead, and busied herself very earnestly with the beads on her silk. "You are about something very pretty!" said Mr. Haveloc, bending over her work. "It is a great deal of trouble," said Margaret, "but it will look very well when it is done. It is a purse with beads." "I am afraid I shall not see it finished," said Mr. Haveloc. "It will be done, and sent off long before I come back." "It takes me--oh, let me see!--about a week," said Margaret. "Not longer? Why you must furnish all your friends with purses." "But I seldom make them. This is only the second I have made with beads; one to learn by--and this other, to give to--somebody." "To Mr. Grey!" "You cannot be sure of that. It is a very good guess; but I have other friends. I might mean it for Mr. Warde." "You glanced at Mr. Grey when you spoke of giving it away." "Did I, indeed? You should not watch people." "Is that a general rule? Or only applicable to the present company?" Margaret laughed, and made no answer. "Pray, has Mr. Warde begun to teach you Latin yet?" he asked. "No," said Margaret. "How is that? Are you afraid of your complexion? I think Mr. Grey threatened you with premature age, if you meddled with Latin. Did not he?" "That is not the reason," said Margaret, "but I am too busy at present." "I should like very much to know what is your favourite study just now. Waltzing, I think." "Waltzing, indeed!" said Margaret; "I could waltz years ago." "You won't tell me then, what pursuit engrosses you at present; it must be something mysterious. Judicial astrology?" Margaret turned away laughing, "I wish first that it was true, and next that I knew it," she said. "Would you then like to read the future?" he asked. "Perhaps not, when it came to the point," she replied. "What, Land, here already?" said Mr. Grey, waking up at the jingle of the keys and candlesticks; "who would believe it was eleven o'clock?" "Not I for one," whispered Mr. Haveloc, as he moved to open the door for Margaret. She did not know how it was. She supposed he must have held out his hand; but she found herself actually shaking hands with him for the first time. CHAPTER VIII. _Ray._ You have a merry heart if you can guide it. _Fol._ Yes faith, so, so; I laugh not at those whom I fear; I fear not those whom I love; and I love not any whom I laugh not at. Pretty strange humour, is't not? _Ray._ To any one that knows you not, it is. THE SUN'S DARLING.