There was no room in the little inn for either, but Margaret took some lodgings. It was the best, as their presence would have agitated Grace too much. Mr. Sandford found a new Margaret in the cold, calm resolute girl before him. She told him shortly and very quietly that she had promised to marry Mr. Drayton. "But I no longer wish it," he said eagerly, and hoping to see her soften and change. Her hard, cold expression was a terrible disappointment. "I have promised," she answered, "and I wanted you to come because, if I do this, it is for Grace; and you must manage for me, that, if I live or die, Grace will be cared for. She must have plenty, always. You are wise about things, and clever. I give my life, and Grace must have plenty." "But, Margaret! Is Grace worth this? A tiresome, wrong-headed, selfish creature----" "Please spare her to me!" said Margaret, passionately; "she is my sister, and I love her." "But surely----" "I have promised," repeated Margaret, and Mr. Sandford controlled his temper. He said, quietly, "Only say one thing, that I am not the cause----" "I cannot say it," said Margaret, vehemently; "you offered us a home, and you made that home unbearable." "You are ungenerous." "Were you generous when you taunted us, when you said we were to go?" "I never said so to you." "You said it to Grace, my sister, whom I love better than my life." Then his temper rose, and he said cruel and bitter things of Grace; and Margaret stood up, and, resuming her reserve and coldness, faced him. "It is nothing to you," she began, in low tones, "you say these things, and expect me to hear them. I do not value your love for me--if you do love me as you say--because you will extend no forbearance to my sister. You cannot separate us--in feeling. She is part of myself, and--for her sake--things can be met that would otherwise be impossible." Mr. Sandford was silent. He never realised the effect of his violence, and he was conscious of so much liking for Margaret that he thought her ungrateful for not returning his affection in some degree. "I will have neither act nor part in this marriage," he said, rising. "You will not help me, so far, then?" she asked, wearily, "and I have no one else." Mr. Sandford wrote an address down. "This man will help you," he said, hiding his uncomfortable feelings under an increase of gruffness. "He is a lawyer, and will arrange matters. As for me, I am of no use, and I wash my hands of all your concerns hence-forward." He left her feeling more forlorn than before. She was conscious now of having had a vague hope, in some way, of his arranging things for her and Grace, of having received kindness. She felt that loyalty to her sister demanded that she should resent his words; and she resolutely pushed away any regrets from her.