has been sometimes as low as seven hundred,
and at other times as high as three thousand
pounds a-year.

NORTH AND SOUTH.
BY THE AUTHOR OF MARY BARTON.

CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND.

THE shock had been great. Margaret fell
into a state of prostration, which did not
show itself in sobs and tears, or even find the
relief of words. She lay on the sofa, with
her eyes shut, never speaking but when
spoken to, and then replying in whispers.
Mr. Bell was perplexed. He dared not leave
her; he dared not ask her to accompany him
back to Oxford, which had been one of the
plans he had formed on the journey to Milton,
her physical exhaustion was evidently
too complete for her to undertake any such
fatigue putting the sight that she would
have to encounter out of the question. Mr.
Bell sate over the fire, considering what he
had better do. Margaret lay motionless, and
almost breathless, by him. He would not
leave her even for the dinner, which Dixon
had prepared for him down stairs, and, with
sobbing hospitality, would fain have tempted
him to eat. He had a plateful of something
brought up to him. In general, he was particular
and dainty enough, and knew well
each shade of flavour in his food, but now
the devilled chicken tasted like saw-dust. He
minced up some of the fowl for Margaret,
and peppered and salted it well; but when
Dixon, following his directions, tried to feed
her, the languid shake of head proved that,
in such a state as Margaret was in, food
would only choke, not nourish her.

Mr. Bell gave a great sigh; lifted up his
stout old limbs (stiff with travelling) from
their easy position, and followed Dixon out of
the room.

"I can't leave her. I must write to them
at Oxford, to see that the preparations are
made: they can be getting on with these
till I arrive. Can't Mrs. Lennox come to
her? I'll write and tell her she must. The
girl must have some woman-friend about
her? if only to talk her into a good fit of
crying."

Dixon was crying- enough for two; but,
after wiping her eyes and steadying her voice,
she managed to tell Mr. Bell, that Mrs.
Lennox was too near her confinement to be
able to undertake any journey at present.

"Well! I suppose we must have Ms.
Shaw; she's come back to England, is'nt she?"

"Yes, sir, she's come back; but I don't
think she will like to leave Mrs. Lennox
at such an interesting time," said Dixon,
who did not much approve of a stranger
entering the household to share with her in
her ruling care of Margaret.

"Interesting time be-" Mr. Bell restricted
himself to coughing over the end of
his sentence, "She could be content to be at
Venice, or Naples, or some of those Popish
places, at the last 'interesting time,' which
took place in Corfu, I think. And what does
that little prosperous woman's 'interesting
time' signify, in comparison with that poor
creature there,- that helpless, homeless,
friendless, Margaret- lying as still on that
sofa as if it were an altar-tomb, and she the
stone statue on it. I tell you Mrs. Shaw shall
come. See that a room, or whatever she
wants, is got ready for her by to-morrow
night. I'll take care she comes."

Accordingly Mr. Bell wrote a letter, which
Mrs. Shaw declared, with many tears, to be
so like one of the dear general's when he was
going to have a fit of the gout, that she should
always value and preserve it. If he had
given her the option, by requesting or urging
her, as if a refusal were possible, she might
not have come- true and sincere as was her
sympathy with Margaret. It needed the
sharp uncourteous command to make her
conquer her vis inertiæ, and allow herself
to be packed by her maid, after the latter had
completed the boxes. Edith, all cap, shawls,
and tears, came out to the top of the stairs, as
Captain Lennox was taking her mother down
to the carriage:

"Don't forget, mamma; Margaret must
come and live with us. Sholto will go to
Oxford on Wednesday, and you must send word
by Mr. Bell to him when we're to expect you.
And if you want Sholto, he can go on from
Oxford to Milton. Don't forget, mamma; you
are to bring back Margaret."

Edith re-entered the drawing-room. Mr.
Henry Lennox was there, cutting open the
pages of a new review. Without lifting
his head, he said, "If you don't like Sholto
to be so long absent from you, Edith, I hope
you will let me go down to Milton, and give
what assistance I can."

"Oh, thank you," said Edith, "I dare say
old Mr. Bell will do everything he can, and
more help may not be needed. Only
one does not look for much savoir-faire
from a resident Fellow. Dear, darling Margaret!
won't it be nice to have her here,
again? You were both great allies years ago."

"Were we?" asked he indifferently, with
an appearance of being interested in a passage
in the review.

"Well, perhaps not- I forget. I was so full
of Sholto. But doesn't it fall out well, that if
my uncle was to die, it should be just now,
when we are come home, and settled in the
old house, and quite ready to receive Margaret?
Poor thing! what a change it will be
to her from Milton! I'll have new chintz
for her bedroom, and make it look new and
bright, and cheer her up a little."

In the same spirit of kindness, Mrs. Shaw
journeyed to Milton, occasionally dreading
ithe first meeting, and wondering how it