--and
when he would come. Day by day, as she spread her books before her, or
began to write, she wondered at her own listlessness about employments
to which she had looked forward with so much eagerness; and when she
detected herself gazing into the fire by the half-hour together, or
allowing the ink to dry in her suspended pen, she found that she was as
far as ever from deciding whether Hester was not now in the way to be
less happy than ever, and how it was that, with all her close friendship
with Philip Enderby, of which she had spoken so confidently to Maria,
she was now in perfect ignorance of his movements and intentions. The
whole was very strange, and, in the experience, somewhat dreary.

Her great comfort was Edward: this was a new support and a strong one:
but even here she was compelled to own herself somewhat disappointed.
This brotherly relation, for which she had longed all her life, did not
bring the fulness of satisfaction which she had anticipated. She had
not a fault to find with Edward: she was always called upon by his daily
conduct for admiration, esteem, and affection; but all this was not of
the profit to her which she had expected. He seemed altered: the flow
of his spirits was much moderated; but perhaps this was no loss, as his
calmness, his gentle seriousness, and domestic benevolence were brought
out more strikingly than ever. Margaret's disappointment lay in the
intercourse between themselves. That Edward was reserved--that beneath
his remarkable frankness there lay an uncommunicativeness of
disposition--no one could before his marriage have made her believe: yet
it certainly was so. Though Hester and she never discussed Edward's
character, more or less--though Hester's love for him, and Margaret's
respect for that love, rendered all such conversation unpossible,
Margaret was perfectly well aware that Hester's conviction on this
particular point was the same as her own--that Hester had discovered
that she had not fully understood her husband, and that there remained a
region of his character into which she had not yet penetrated. Margaret
was obliged to conclude that all this was natural and right, and that
what she had heard said of men generally was true even of Edward Hope--
that there are depths of character where there are not regions of
experience, which defy the sympathy and sagacity of women. However
natural and right all this might be, she could not but be sorry for it.
It