But at the sound of the tender voices of her aunt and Edith, of merry little Sholto's glee at her arrival, and at the sight of the well-lighted rooms, with their mistress, pretty in her paleness and her eager sorrowful interest, Margaret roused herself from her heavy trance of almost superstitious hopelessness, and began to feel that even around her joy and gladness might gather. 
But at the sound of the tender voices of her aunt and Edith, and merry little Sholto's glee at her arrival, Margaret roused herself from her heavy trance. 