oppressive, and her cheerful manner was an effort; she longed to see
them all gone, and Flora found it out, sent the children for their
walk, and carried off Ethel and the brothers.

Dr. May was called out of the room at the same time, and she was left
alone. She gazed round her, at the room where, four months before,
she had seen her mother with the babe in her arms, the children
clustered round her, her father exulting in his hen-and-chicken
daisies, herself full of bright undefined hope, radiant with health
and activity, and her one trouble such that she now knew the force of
her mother's words, that it only proved her happiness. It was not
till that moment that Margaret realised the change; found her eyes
filling with tears, as she looked round, and saw the familiar
furniture and ornaments.

They were instantly checked as she heard her father returning, but
not so that he did not perceive them, and exclaim that it had been
too much for her. "Oh, no--it was only the first time," said
Margaret, losing the sense of the painful vacancy in her absorbing
desire not to distress her father, and thinking only of him as she
watched him standing for some minutes leaning on the mantel-shelf
with his hand shading his forehead.

She began to speak as soon as she thought he was ready to have his
mind turned away: "How nicely Ritchie managed! He carried me so
comfortably and easily. It is enough to spoil me to be so deftly
waited on."

"I'm glad of it," said Dr. May; "I am sure the change is better for
you;" but he came and looked at her still with great solicitude.