"I am positively dying to see her--I am indeed; you have no notion what a darling she is. I am sure you would be delighted with her, Fitzwilliam!"  
These gushing sentiments were uttered by Lady Davyntry, and addressed to her brother, Mr. Fitzwilliam Meriton Baldwin, while they were at breakfast together, on the morning after Lady Davyntry's note had been received at Chayleigh.
 
Lady Davyntry was given to gushing. She was a harmless, emotional kind of woman, who had led a perfectly discreet and comfortable life, and had never known a sorrow until the death of her husband.
 
Lady Davyntry was a very pretty woman--as pretty at her present age, thirty-five, as she had been at any time since she had turned the corner of extreme youth. Her mild, lambent blue eyes were as bright as they had ever been, and her fair, rather thick skin had lost neither its purity nor its polish.
 
She had been rich, well cared for, and happy all her life; she had never had any occasion to exert herself; the "sorrows of others" had cast but light and fleeting "shadows over" her; and her sentimentalism, and the romance which had not been much developed in the course of her prosperous uneventful life, were quite ready for any demands that might be made upon them by an event of so much local interest as the return of Mr. Carteret's daughter, whose marriage was generally understood to have been very unfortunate.
 
She was interested in the occurrence for more than the sufficient reason that she had liked and pitied Margaret in her neglected girlhood. Perhaps the strongest sentiment of dislike which had ever been called forth in the amiable nature of Lady Davyntry had been excited by, and towards, Mrs. Carteret.
 
The two women were entirely antagonistic to each other; and Lady Davyntry felt a thrill of gratification on hearing of Margaret's return, in which a conviction that that event had taken place without Mrs. Carteret's sanction, and would not be to her taste, had a decided share.
 
She had favoured her brother--to whom she was very much attached, and who was so much younger than she that he did not inspire her with any of the salutary reserve which induces sisters to disguise their favourite weaknesses from brothers--with a full and free statement of her feelings on this point, and he had not strongly combated her antipathy to Mrs. Carteret. The truth was, he shared it.
 
Mr. Baldwin had risen from the breakfast-table, and was standing, newspaper in hand, by a large window which commanded an extensive view, including the precise angle of the little demesne of Chayleigh in which the rear of the house and the window of Margaret's room, with its frame of passion-flowers, could be seen--not distinctly, but clearly enough to induce the eyes of any one gazing forth upon the scene to rest upon it mechanically.
 
His sister rose also, as she repeated her assurance that Margaret was "a darling," and joined him.
 
"Look," she said; "you have sharp eyes, I know. There is some one leaning out of the centre window. I see a figure, don't you?"
 
"Yes," said Mr. Baldwin; "I see a figure, all in black,--there's a flutter of something white. Who is it?"
 
"I'm sure it's Margaret," said Lady Davyntry, "and the white thing must be the strings of her widow's cap, poor child. How horrid it will be to see her sweet, pretty little face in it! Ah, dear! to think that she and I should meet under such similar circumstances!" and Lady Davyntry sighed, and a tear made its appearance in each of her calm blue eyes.
 
"Similar circumstances!" repeated her brother, in some surprise. "Ah, yes! you are both widows, to be sure; but the similarity stops there; if what Dugdale said, or rather implied, be true,--as of course it is,--you and Mrs. Hungerford wear your rue with a difference."
 
"We do, indeed," said Lady Davyntry. "Give me that field-glass, Fitz. I must make out whether that really is Margaret." And then she added, as she adjusted the glass to her sight, "And I pity her for that too. I cannot fancy any lot more pitiable than being forbidden by one's reason to feel grief. Yes," she went on, after a minute, "it is Margaret. I can see her figure quite plainly now. Look, look, Fitz!" and she held out the glass to him. But Mr. Baldwin did not take it from her hand; he smiled, and said:
 
"No, no, Nelly, I could not take the liberty of peeping surreptitiously at Mrs. Hungerford. You forget you are renewing your acquaintance with her; mine has to be made."
 
"That's just like your punctilio," said his sister. "I declare I feel the strongest impulse to nod to her, this glass brings her so near; and you are a goose for your pains. However, when you do see her, I prophesy you will agree with me that she is a darling, a delightful girl."
 
"Well, but," said Mr. Baldwin, who was amused by his sister's enthusiasm, "you forget how long it is since you have seen this paragon, and that she is not a girl at all, but an unhappy and ill-treated wife, who has lately had the good fortune to become a widow."
 
"That's true," said Lady Davyntry; "but I'll not believe that any change could interfere with Margaret's being a darling. At all events, I am going to see for myself this very day."
 
"So soon?" asked Mr. Baldwin, in a surprised tone.
 
"So soon! why not? You don't suppose Margaret has any tender confidences with Mrs. Carteret which must not be broken in upon, and, as for her father, I am sure he is as much accustomed to her being there, since yesterday, as if she were one of those horrid specimens en permanence."
 
Mr. Baldwin laughed. "I don't suppose the meeting has been very demonstrative," he said, "considering the parties to it whom I do know, and Dugdale's account of the party whom I do not. According to the little he said, Mrs. Hungerford's firmness and reserve are wonderful--more wonderful than pleasing, I should consider them."
 
"Never mind Mr. Dugdale, Fitz," replied his sister. "He never liked Margaret either I believe: I know she quarrelled with him at the time of her love-affair. It is very likely he does not like her coming home; she may make things unpleasant for him now, you know, which she could not when quite a girl. Don't you mind him. Take my word for it, the young widow is a darling."
 
"Take care, Nelly; that is rather a dangerous thing to insist upon so strongly, except that you know I hav............