If my tones, or modes of thought, are what you dislike, will you do methe justice to tell me so, and so give me the chance of learning to pleaseyou?"
All these weeks there was no intelligence of Mr. Bell"s going to Milton.
He had spoken of it at Helstone as of a journey which he might have totake in a very short time from then; but he must have transacted hisbusiness by writing, Margaret thought, ere now, and she knew that if hecould, he would avoid going to a place which he disliked, and moreoverwould little understand the secret importance which she affixed to theexplanation that could only be given by word of mouth. She knew thathe would feel that it was necessary that it should be done; but whetherin summer, autumn, or winter, it would signify very little. It was nowAugust, and there had been no mention of the Spanish journey to whichhe had alluded to Edith, and Margaret tried to reconcile herself to thefading away of this illusion.
But one morning she received a letter, saying that next week he meant to come up to town; he wanted to see her about a plan which he had inhis head; and, moreover, he intended to treat himself to a littledoctoring, as he had begun to come round to her opinion, that it wouldbe pleasanter to think that his health was more in fault than he, when hefound himself irritable and cross. There was altogether a tone of forcedcheerfulness in the letter, as Margaret noticed afterwards; but at thetime her attention was taken up by Edith"s exclamations.
"Coming up to town! Oh dear! and I am so worn out by the heat that Idon"t believe I have strength enough in me for another dinner. Besides,everybody has left but our dear stupid selves, who can"t settle where togo to. There would be nobody to meet him."
"I"m sure he would much rather come and dine with us quite alone thanwith the most agreeable strangers you could pick up. Besides, if he isnot well he won"t wish for invitations. I am glad he has owned it at last.