“I should like it, of all things; but I do wish you’d stay: the house is so much nicer when you are in it!”

But of course she could not stay at the request of the young lad, when she had refused the request of the lad’s grandmother.

After this she had one day to remain at the Cedars. It was a Thursday, and on the Friday she was to go to her brother’s house on her way to Littlebath. On the Thursday morning Mr Ball waylaid her on the staircase, as she came down to breakfast, and took her with him into the drawing-room. There he made his request, standing with her in the middle of the room.

“Margaret,” he said, “must you go away and leave us?”

“I’m afraid I must, John,” she said.

“I wish we could make you think better of it.”

“Of course I should like to stay, but—”

“Yes, there’s always a but. I should have thought that, of all people in the world, you were the one most able to do just what you please with your time.”

“We have all got duties to do, John.”

“Of course we have; but why shouldn’t it be your duty to make your relations happy? If you could only know how much I like your being here?”

Had it not been that she did not dare to do that for the son which she had refused to the mother, I think that she would have given way. As it was, she did not know how to yield, after having persevered so long.

“You are all so kind,” she said, giving him her hand, “that it goes to my heart to refuse you; but I’m afraid I can’t. I do not wish to give my brother’s wife cause to complain of me.”

“Then,” said Mr Ball, speaking very slowly, “I must ask this favour of you, that you will let me see you alone for half an hour after dinner this evening.”

“Certainly,” said Miss Mackenzie.

“Thank you, Margaret. After tea I will go into the study, and perhaps you will follow me.”

Chapter VII.
Miss Mackenzie Leaves the Cedars

There was something so serious in her cousin’s request to her, and so much of gravity in his mode of making it, that Miss Mackenzie could not but think of it throughout the day. On what subject did he wish to speak to her in so solemn and special a manner? An idea of the possibility of an offer no doubt crossed her mind and fluttered her, but it did not do more than this; it did not remain fixed with her, or induce her to resolve what answer she would give if such offer were made. She was afraid to allow herself to think that such a thing could happen, and put the matter away from her,—uneasily, indeed, but still with so much resolution as to leave her with a conviction that she need not give any consideration to such an hypothesis.