Margaret stood for a few minutes leaning against the window, trying to compose herself, or to appear composed. "Shall I never be wise or womanly?" she asked herself, "shall I never bear to hear his name mentioned without such a pang as I now feel? Is this, as one sometimes reads, to embitter my whole life--this wretched mistake? It is too severe a penalty for my folly! How can I meet him calmly, if I am thus agitated by the very narrative of circumstances that I have long known, and long made up my mind to forget?" But as thinking did not seem likely to make matters better, Margaret roused herself, and went up stairs to dress. She was quite startled to find Mrs. Fitzpatrick in her room, in her black velvet, ready for dinner. "I am late--am I not?" said she, coming up to her chair, and taking her hand. "Not early, my dear, but you will find time enough, you are always so rapid." Mason set to work directly; Mrs. Fitzpatrick sat beside the toilet, talking. At last, Margaret, who had scarcely replied, turned her head round, and said, "How long do we stay here?" "How long, my dear? Why, we have but just arrived," said her friend with a smile. "True," said Margaret, "there is no reason; only I do not feel very well." "The journey, perhaps," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, kindly, "we must see what a night's rest will do for you; but do not talk of going away, for I have made up my mind that you enjoy yourself very much." Margaret smiled sadly, and accompanied her friend into the drawing-room. It was already lighted up, and the scented air of the warm summer evening, struggled in through the closed curtains. The guests were standing and sitting in groups, talking and laughing. Lord Raymond on the hearth-rug. Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Margaret were presented to him, and he received them with kindness. "You remember Miss Capel, at Chirke Weston, my dear, don't you," said Lucy. Lord Raymond did not--but he said he did, and asked her, "if she left all her friends well in that part of the world." Harriet came close to Lord Raymond, and whispered something in his ear, which made him laugh; and then seizing hold of Margaret, she exclaimed to some one reclining almost at full length in an easy chair: "Everard--wake up! this is Miss Capel!" Margaret blushed crimson; the person addressed, who appeared to be in the last stage of exhaustion, forced himself into a sitting posture, smiled favourably on Margaret without speaking, stared; and sank back again. "What a wretch he is," said Harriet, standing quite close to him while she made her remarks, "does he not look like a great wax doll, perfectly well dressed. He ought to be tired, because he came a good many miles by railroad to-day, and as much as seven or eight more in a post-chaise from the terminus. Miss Capel has travelled farther than you to-day, Everard."