She had repeatedly regretted that Margaret would
not leave her sister's house, and return to Birmingham--saying that
income and convenience were not to be thought of for a moment, in
comparison with some other considerations. In fact she had--it was
weakness, perhaps, but one not to be too hardly judged under the
circumstances--she had revealed the whole to her daughter under
injunctions to secrecy, which had been strictly observed while she
lived, and broken now only for a brother's sake, and after a long
conflict between obligations apparently contradictory. When, from her
deathbed, she had welcomed Margaret as a daughter-in-law, it was in the
gratitude which it was natural for a mother to feel, on finding the
attachment of an only son at length appreciated and rewarded. When she
had implored Mrs Rowland to receive Margaret as a sister, and had seen
them embrace, her generous spirit had rejoiced in her young friend's
conquest of an unhappy passion; and she had meant to convey to Priscilla
an admonition to bury in oblivion what had become known to her, and to
forgive Margaret for having loved any one but Philip. Priscilla could
not make a difficulty at such a time, and in such a presence; she had
submitted to the embrace, but her soul had recoiled from it; she had
actually fainted under the shock: and ever since, she had declared to
her brother, with a pertinacity which he had been unable to understand--
which, indeed, had looked like sheer audacity, that he would never marry
Margaret Ibbotson. Philip was now convinced that he had done his sister
much wrong. Her temper and conduct were in some instances indefensible;
but since he had learned all this, and become aware how much of what he
had censured had been said and done out of affection for himself, he had
been disposed rather to blame her for the lateness of her explanations,
than for any excess of zeal on his account,--zeal which he admitted had
carried her a point or two beyond the truth in some of her aims. These
statements about the condition of Margaret's mind were borne out by
circumstances known to others. When Margaret had been rescued from
drowning, Hope was heard to breathe, as he bent over her, "Oh God! my
Margaret!" and it was observed that she rallied instantly on hearing the
exclamation, and repaid him with a look worthy of his words. This had
been admitted to Enderby himself by the one who heard it, and who might
be trusted to speak of it to