From two to three years passed away, and the Midsummer holidays were approaching. Margaret was expected as usual for them, and Jane, delighted to receive her, went about her glad preparations. Margaret would not return to the school, in which she had been a paid teacher for the last year; but was to enter a family as governess. For one efficient, well-educated, governess to be met with in those days, scores may be counted now—or who to be so; and Margaret Tait, though barely nineteen, anticipated a salary of seventy or eighty guineas a year.  
A warm, bright day in June, that on which Mr. Halliburton went to receive Margaret. The coach brought her to its resting-place, the "Bull and Mouth," in St. Martin's-le-Grand, and Mr. Halliburton reached the inn as St. Paul's clock was striking midday. One minute more, and the coach drove in.
 
There she was, inside; a tall, fine girl, with a handsome face: a face full of resolution and energy. Margaret Tait had her good qualities, and she had also her faults: a great one, speaking of the latter, was self-will. She opened the door herself and leaped out before any one could help her, all joy and delight.
 
"And what about your boxes, Margaret?" questioned Mr. Halliburton, after a few words of greeting. "Have they come this time or not?"
 
Margaret laughed. "Yes, they really have. I have not lost them on the road, as I did at Christmas. You will never forget to tell me of that, I am sure! But it was more the guard's fault than mine."
 
A few minutes, and Mr. Halliburton, Margaret, and the boxes were along in one of the old glass coaches.
 
"And now tell me about every one," said Margaret. "How is dear mamma?"
 
"She is quite well. We are all well. Jane's famous."
 
"And my precious little Willy?"
 
"Oh," said Mr. Halliburton, , "he is a great deal too troublesome for anything to be the matter with him. I tell Jane she will have to begin the whipping system soon."
 
"And much Jane will attend to you! Is it a pretty baby?"
 
Mr. Halliburton raised his . "Jane thinks so. I wonder she has not had its taken."
 
"Is it christened?" continued Margaret.
 
"It is baptized. Jane would not have the christening until you were at home."
 
"And its name?"
 
"Jane."
 
"What a shame! Jane promised me it should be Margaret. Why did she decide upon her own name?"
 
"I upon it," said Mr. Halliburton. "Yours can wait until the next, Margaret."
 
Margaret laughed. "And how are you getting on?"
 
"Very well. I have every hour of the day occupied."
 
"I don't think you are looking well," rejoined Margaret. "You look thin and fagged."
 
"I am always thin, and mine is a fagging profession. Sometimes I feel terribly weary. But I am pretty well upon the whole, Margaret."
 
"Will Francis be at home these holidays?"
 
"No. He passes them at a gentleman's house in Norfolk—tutor to his sons. Francis is and ."
 
"A contrast to poor Robert, I suppose?"
 
"Well—yes; in that sense."
 
"There has been some trouble about Robert, has there not?" asked Margaret, her tone becoming grave. "Did he not get discharged?"
 
"He received notice of discharge. But I saw the principals and begged him on again. I would not talk about it to him if I were you, Margaret. He is sensitive upon the point. Robert's intentions are good, but his is . He has grown tired of his work and idles his time away; no house of business will put up with that."
 
The coach arrived at Mr. Halliburton's. Margaret rushed out of it, giving no one time to assist her, as she had done out of the other coach at the "Bull and Mouth." There was a great deal of impetuosity in Margaret Tait's character. She was quite a contrast to Jane—as she had just remarked there was a contrast between Francis and Robert upon other points—to sensible, lady-like, self-possessed Jane, who came forward so calmly to greet her, a glad depth of affection in her quiet eyes.
 
A embrace to her mother, a boisterous embrace to Jane, all in haste, and then Margaret caught up a little gentleman of some two years old, or more, who was holding on to Jane's dress, his great grey eyes, honest, loving, intelligent as were his mother's, cast up in a broad stare at Margaret.
 
"You naughty Willy! Have you forgotten Aunt Margaret? Oh, you darling child! Who's this?"
 
She carried the boy up to the end of the room, where stood their old servant Mary, nursing an infant of two months old. The baby had great grey eyes also, and they likewise were on noisy Margaret. "Oh, Willy, she is prettier than you! I won't nurse you any more. Mary, I'll shake hands with you presently. I must take that baby first."
 
Dropping discarded Willy upon the ground, snatching the baby from Mary's arms, Margaret kissed its pretty face until she made it cry. Jane came to the rescue.
 
"You don't understand babies, Margaret. Let Mary take her again. Come upstairs to your room, and make yourself ready for dinner. I think you must be hungry."
 
"So hungry that I shall frighten you. Of course, with the thought of coming home, I could not touch breakfast. I hope you have something especially nice!"
 
"Your favourite dinner," said Jane, smiling. "Loin of and ."
 
"How thoughtful you are, Jane!" Margaret could not help exclaiming.
 
"Margaret, my dear," called out her mother, as she was leaving the room with Jane.
 
Margaret looked back. "What, mamma?"
 
"I hope you will not continue to go on with these children as you have begun; otherwise we shall have a quiet house turned into a noisy one."
 
"Is it a quiet house?" said Margaret, laughing.
 
"As if any house would not be quiet, regulated by Jane!" replied Mrs. Tait. And Margaret, laughing still, followed her sister.
 
It is curious to remark how differently things sometimes turn out from what we intended. Had any one asked Mrs. Tait, the day that Margaret came home, what Margaret's future career was to be, she had wondered at the question. "A governess, certainly," would have been her answer; and she would have thought that no power, humanly speaking, could prevent it. And yet, Margaret Tait, as it proved, never did become a governess.
 
The holidays were drawing to an end, and a very desirable situation, as was believed, had been found for Margaret by Mr. Halliburton, the for which were nearly completed. Mr. Halliburton gave private lessons in well-connected families, and thus enabled to hear where ladies were required as governesses, he had recommended Margaret. The recommendation was received, and a day was appointed for Margaret to make a personal visit at the town house of the people in question, when she would most probably be engaged.
 
On the previous evening at Mr. Halliburton came home from one of his numerous engagements. Jane was alone. Mrs. Tait, not very well, had to rest early, and Margaret was out with Robert. In this, a leisure season of the year, Robert had most of his evenings to himself, after eight o'clock. He generally came home, and he and Margaret would go out together. Mr. Halliburton sat down at one of the windows in silence.
 
Jane went up to him, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder. "You are very tired, Edgar?"
 
He did not reply: only drew her hand between his, and kept it there.
 
"You shall have supper at once," said Jane, glancing at the tray which stood ready on the table. "I am sure you must want it. And it is not right to indulge Margaret every night by waiting for her."
 
"Scarcely, when she does not come in until ten or half-past," said Mr. Halliburton. "Jane," he added , "do you think it well that Margaret should be out so frequently in an evening?"
 
"She is with Robert."
 
"She may not always be with Robert alone."
 
Jane felt her face flush. She knew her husband; knew that he was not one to speak unless he had some reason for doing so. "Edgar! why do you say this? Do you know anything? Have you seen Margaret?"
 
"I saw her a quarter of an hour ago——"
 
"With Robert?" interrupted Jane, more than she was in the habit of speaking.
 
"Robert was by her side. But she was walking arm in arm with Mr. Murray."
 
Jane did not much like the information. This Mr. Murray was in the same house as Robert, holding a better position. Robert had occasionally brought him home, and he had taken tea with them. Mrs. Halliburton felt surprised at Margaret: it appeared, to her well-regulated mind, very like a . What would she have said, or thought, had she known that Margaret and Mr. Murray were in the habit of thus walking together constantly? Robert's being with them afforded no sufficient excuse.
 
Later they saw Margaret coming home with Robert alone. He left her at the door as usual, and then hastened away to his own home. Jane said nothing then, but she went to Margaret's room that evening.
 
"Oh, Edgar has been bringing home tales, has he?" was Margaret's answer, when the ice was broken; and her tone brought Jane hardly knew what of dismay to her ear. "I saw him staring at us."
 
"Margaret!" Jane, "what can have come to you? You are completely changed; you—you seem to speak no longer as a lady."
 
"Then why do you provoke me, Jane? Is it high treason to take a gentleman's arm, my brother being with me?"
 
"It is not right to do it in secret, Margaret. If you go out ostensibly to walk with Robert——"
 
"Jane, I will not listen," Margaret said, with flashing eyes. "Because you are Mrs. Halliburton, you assume a right to lecture me. I have committed no grievous wrong. When I do commit it, you may take your turn then."
 
"Oh, Margaret! why will you misjudge me?" asked Jane, her voice full of pain. "I speak to you in love, not in anger; I would not speak at all but for your good. If the Chevasneys were to hear of this, they might think you an unsuitable mistress for their children."
 
"Compose yourself," said Margaret, . Never had she shown such a temper, so a disposition, as on this night; and Jane might well look at her in , and hint that she was "changed." "I shall be found suitable by the Chevasney family—when I consent to enter it."
 
Her tone was strangely significant, and Jane Halliburton's heart beat. "What do you imply, Margaret?" she inquired. "You appear to have some meaning."
 
Margaret, who had been standing before the glass all this time twisting her hair round her fingers, turned and looked her sister full in the face. "Jane, I'll tell you, if you will undertake to make things straight for me with mamma. I am not going to the Chevasneys—or anywhere else—as governess."
 
"Yes,"—said Jane faintly, for she had a of what was coming.
 
"I am going to be married instead."
 
"Oh, Margaret!"
 
"There is nothing to about," retorted Margaret. "Mr. Murray is coming to speak to mamma to-morrow, and if any of you have anything to say against him, you can say it to his face. He is a very respectable man, and has a good income; where's the objection to him?"
 
Jane could not say. Personally, she did not very much like Mr. Murray; and certain fond visions had pictured a higher destiny for handsome, accomplished Margaret. "I hope and trust you will be happy, if you do marry him, Margaret!" was all she said.
 
"I hope I shall. I must take my chance of that, as others do. Jane, I beg your pardon for my crossness, but you put me out of temper."
 
As others do. Ay! it was all a . And Margaret Tait entered upon her hastily-chosen married life, knowing that it was so.