"The meanest thing to which we bid adieu, Loses its meanness in the parting hour." ELLIOTT.
Mrs. Shaw took as vehement a dislike as it was possible for one of her gentle nature to do, against Milton. It was noisy, and smoky, and the poor people whom she saw in the streets were dirty, and the rich ladies over-dressed, and not a man that she saw, high or low, had his clothes made to fit him. She was sure Margaret would never regain her lost strength while she stayed in Milton; and she herself was afraid of one of her old attacks of the nerves. Margaret must return with her, and that quickly. This, if not the exact force of her words, was at any rate the spirit of what she urged on Margaret, till the latter, weak, weary, and broken-spirited, yielded a reluctant promise that, as soon as Wednesday was over, she would prepare to accompany her aunt back to town, leaving Dixon in charge of all the arrangements for paying bills, disposing of furniture, and shutting up the house. Before that Wednesday--that mournful Wednesday, when Mr. Hale was to be interred, far away from either of the homes he had known in life, and far away from the wife who lay lonely among strangers (and this last was Margaret's great trouble, for she thought that if she had not given way to that overwhelming stupor during the first sad days, she could have arranged things otherwise)--before that Wednesday, Margaret received a letter from Mr. Bell.

The gentle Mrs. Shaw took a vehement dislike to Milton. It was noisy and smoky, and the poor people were dirty, and the rich ladies over-dressed, and not a man wore clothes made to fit him. She was sure Margaret would never regain her lost strength while she stayed in Milton; she must return with her. She urged this until Margaret, weak, weary, and broken-spirited, reluctantly promised that as soon as the funeral was over, she would accompany her aunt back to town, leaving Dixon in charge of shutting up the house.
Before that mournful day, Margaret received a letter from Mr. Bell.
