Margaret only knew that her mother had not found it convenient to come, and she was not sorry to think that their meeting and greeting would take place at Helstone parsonage, rather than, during the confusion of the last two or three days, in the house in Harley Street, where she herself had had to play the part of Figaro, and was wanted everywhere at one and the same time. Her mind and body ached now with the recollection of all she had done and said within the last forty-eight hours. The farewells so hurriedly taken, amongst all the other good-byes, of those she had lived with so long, oppressed her now with a sad regret for the times that were no more; it did not signify what those times had been, they were gone never to return. Margaret's heart felt more heavy than she could ever have thought it possible in going to her own dear home, the place and the life she had longed for for years--at that time of all times for yearning and longing, just before the sharp senses lose their outlines in sleep. She took her mind away with a wrench from the recollection of the past to the bright serene contemplation of the hopeful future. Her eyes began to see, not visions of what had been, but the sight actually before her; her dear father leaning back asleep in the railway carriage. His blue-black hair was grey now, and lay thinly over his brows. The bones of his face were plainly to be seen--too plainly for beauty, if his features had been less finely cut; as it was, they had a grace if not a comeliness of their own. The face was in repose; but it was rather rest after weariness than the serene calm of the countenance of one who led a placid, contented life. Margaret was painfully struck by the worn, anxious expression; and she went back over the open and avowed circumstances of her father's life, to find the cause for the lines that spoke so plainly of habitual distress and depression.

Margaret only knew that her mother had not found it convenient to come, and she was not sorry that they would meet at Helstone parsonage, rather than during the confusion of the last few days in Harley Street. Her mind and body ached now with the recollection of all she had done and said within the last forty-eight hours. The hurried farewells oppressed her with a sad regret for the times that were no more; it did not matter what those times had been, they were gone never to return.
Margaret's heart felt heavier than she could have thought possible in going to her own dear longed-for home. She wrenched her mind away from the recollection of the past to the bright contemplation of the hopeful future. She looked at her dear father leaning back asleep in the railway carriage; his black hair was grey now, and thinner. The finely cut bones of his face were plainly to be seen. The face was in the repose of weariness, rather than the serene calm of one who led a placid, contented life. Margaret was painfully struck by his worn, anxious expression; and she looked into the past, to find the cause for the lines of distress and depression.
