In answer to this, Margaret said that she was much obliged, but she hoped that her aunt had put herself to no trouble. Then she said a word or two about her uncle,--a word or two that was very difficult, as of course it could mean nothing. "Yes," said the widow, "he has been taken from us after a long and useful life. I hope his son will always show himself to be worthy of such a father." After that there was silence in the room for a minute or two, during which Margaret waited for her aunt to begin; but Lady Ball sat there solid, grave, and black, as though she thought that her very presence, without any words, might be effective upon Margaret as a preliminary mode of attack. Margaret herself could find nothing to say to her aunt, and she, therefore, also remained silent. Lady Ball was so far successful in this, that when three minutes were over her niece had certainly been weakened by the oppressive nature of the meeting. She had about her less of vivacity, and perhaps also less of vitality, than when she first entered the room. "Well, my dear," said her aunt at last, "there are things, you know, which must be talked about, though they are ever so disagreeable;" and then she pulled out of her pocket that abominable number of the Littlebath _Christian Examiner_. "Oh, aunt, I hope you are not going to talk about that." "My dear, that is cowardly; it is, indeed. How am I to help talking about it? I have come here, from Twickenham, on purpose to talk about it." "Then, aunt, I must decline; I must, indeed." "My dear!" "I must, indeed, aunt." Let a man or a woman's vitality be ever so thoroughly crushed and quenched by fatigue or oppression--or even by black crape--there will always be some mode of galvanising which will restore it for a time, some specific either of joy or torture which will produce a return of temporary energy. This Littlebath newspaper was a battery of sufficient power to put Margaret on her legs again, though she perhaps might not be long able to keep them. "It is a vile, lying paper, and it was written by a vile, lying man, and I hope you will put it up and say nothing about it." "It is a vile, lying paper, Margaret; but the lies are against my son, and not against you." "He is a man, and knows what he is about, and it does not signify to him. But, aunt, I won't talk about it, and there's an end of it." "I hope he does know what he is about," said Lady Ball. "I hope he does. But you, as you say, are a woman, and therefore it specially behoves you to know what you are about." "I am not doing anything to anybody," said Margaret. Lady Ball had now refolded the offensive newspaper, and restored it to her pocket. Perhaps she had done as much with it as she had from the first intended. At any rate, she brought it forth no more, and made no further intentionally direct allusion to it. "I don't suppose you really wish to do any injury to anybody," she said.