THE TALE OF
AUNT MARGARET'S TROUBLE.

IN SIX WEEKLY PORTIONS. FOURTH PORTION.

CHAPTER VIII.

"I NEVER saw a piece of knitting in such a
mess in all my life! What were you thinking
of, Madge?"

Aunt Gough uttered this mild pleasantry in
the fulness of her satisfaction, some days after
that happy evening on which Horace had told
me that he loved me. They all knew it now.
Dear uncle had kissed and blessed me, mingling
with his tender words some prudent cautions as
to the necessity of waiting, and as to our youth
and inexperience. But he was pleased. I knew
that, and the knowledge made me inexpressibly
happy. As for waiting, that was not hard to my
mind. Of course we were young. Of course we
were inexperienced, and without settled
prospects in the world. But we loved each other,
and our love was approved by those whom we
most honoured and regarded. Surely that was
happiness enough, to fill years of waiting, should
years be necessary. Horace was not quite so
contented to accept Uncle Gough's words of
wisdom. He chafed a little, in his impetuous
way, at being told of his youth and inexperience.

"Young!" he said to me, when we were
walking alone together. "Does your uncle
know that I am turned three-and-twenty?"
Horace looked very solemn as he announced his
attainment of this venerable age. "If he had
said that I'm not good enough, there might
have been some reason in it. But if my dear
girl is content to take me only because I love
her better than all the world beside——"

"No; because I love you, Horace."

"My own Margaret! If you are content,
angel that you are, I don't see who need
object."

"Dear Horace, be reasonable. Can anything
be more kind and generous than Uncle Gough's
behaviour? Of course he is right when he says
that our youth——"

"There it is. Our youth! The fact is, fifty-five
is getting to be thought the right age for
love and marriage. I wish I was as old as De
Beauguet. Upon my soul I do!"

"Perhaps, Horace, in that case the objection
might come from me, and not from uncle."

"I always say absurd things when I'm angry,"
said Horace, wiping his eyes after an outbreak
of laughter. "Everybody does."

I don't know whether everybody does, but I
know Horace did. And what could be more
absurd than the idea of his ever being fifty-five?
My bright, impulsive Horace!

All this brings me back to Aunt Gough, and my
tangled knitting. One of the servants had found
it in the porch and taken it to my aunt, and she,
divining the circumstances under which it had
got into such a chaotic state, resolved to have her
small joke at my expense. Horace and I were
sitting with her now, having come in from the
walk in which we had held the foregoing
discussion as to the necessity for patient waiting.

"What have you been doing with your knitting?"
said aunt. "I wonder who is expected
to wear a stocking like that!"

"O, aunty, it was Horace. He was twisting
it about in his fingers."

"And, pray, how came Horace to get hold
of your knitting? I hope you don't mean to
knit his stockings in that way, or he will think I
have made but a poor housewife of you, after all
my pains."

"Do give me a chance of testing her soon,
Mrs. Gough," cried Horace, eagerly, improving
the occasion."We have been having quite a
dispute, Margaret and I, and I am afraid Mr.
Gough is all on her side. Do throw in your
influence on mine. Do take my view of the
case!"

Horace went over all his arguments to
prove that we were both rather elderly, and to
show that in three months, at the utmost,
his prospects would be sufficiently assured to
justify him in taking a wife. He was very
eloquent in his pleadings. At least I thought so,
and so, I suspect, did Aunt Gough.The truth
is, Horace could be much more eloquent in
speaking to her, than he could be in speaking to
my uncle. I have said that Aunt Gough was
highly sympathetic. And sympathy was to
Horace the atmosphere in which he lived and
breathed easily. There are strong militant
natures to whom strife and the hope of victory
are bracing and pleasant; but his was never one
of them.

My aunt had been ailing ever since the visit
to Meadow Leas. We could not trace any signs
of positive disorder, but she got no stronger, had
no appetite, and was incapable of active exertion.