And sometimes round me sweetest murmurs sing—
There is a happy end for everything!
"That is Heav'n's chorus earthward echoing."

NORTH AND SOUTH.
BY THE AUTHOR OF MARY BARTON.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

"MR. HENRY LENNOX." Margaret had been
thinking of him only a moment before, and
remembering his inquiry into her probable
occupations at home. It was parler du soleil
et l'on en voit les rayons; and the brightness
of the sun came over Margaret's face as she
put down her board, and went forward to
shake hands with him. "Tell mamma, Sarah,"
said she. " Mamma and I want to ask you
so many questions about Edith; I am so
much obliged to you for coming."

"Did not I say that I should?" asked he,
in a lower tone than that in which she had
spoken.

"But I heard of you so far away in the
Highlands that I never thought Hampshire
could come in."

"Oh! " said he, more lightly, "our young
couple were playing such foolish pranks,
running all sorts of risks, climbing this mountain,
sailing on that lake, that I really thought
they needed a mentor to take care of them.
And indeed they did; they were quite beyond
my uncle's management, and kept the old
gentleman in a panic for sixteen hours out of
the twenty-four. Indeed, when I once saw
how unfit they were to be trusted alone,
I thought it my duty not to leave them
till I had seen them safely embarked at
Plymouth."

"Have you been at Plymouth? Oh! Edith
never named that. To be sure, she has
written in such a hurry lately. Did they
really sail on Tuesday?"

"Really sailed, and relieved me from my
responsibilities. Edith gave me all sorts of
messages for you. I believe I have a little
diminutive note somewhere; yes, here it is."

"Oh! thank you," exclaimed Margaret;
and then, half wishing to read it alone and
unwatched, she made the excuse of going to
tell her mother again (Sarah surely had made
some mistake) that Mr. Lennox was there.

When she had left the room, he began in
his scrutinising way to look about him. The
little drawing-room was looking its best in
the streaming light of the morning sun. The
middle window in the bow was opened, and
clustering roses and the scarlet honeysuckle
came peeping round the corner; the small
lawn was gorgeous with verbenas and
geraniums of all bright colours. But the very
brightness outside made the colours within
seem poor and faded. The carpet was far
from new; the chintz had been often washed;
the whole apartment was smaller and shabbier
than he had expected, as back-ground
and frame-work for Margaret, herself so
queenly. He took up one of the books lying
on the table; it was the Paradise of Dante,
in the proper old Italian binding of white
vellum and gold; by it lay a dictionary, and
some words copied out in Margaret's
handwriting. They were a dull list of words, but
somehow he liked looking at them. He put
them down with a sigh.

"The living is evidently as small as she
said. It seems strange, for the Beresfords
belong to a good family."

Margaret meanwhile had found her mother.
It was one of Mrs. Hale's fitful days, when
everything was a difficulty and a hardship;
and Mr. Lennox's appearance took this shape,
although secretly she felt complimented by
his thinking it worth while to call.

"It is most unfortunate! We are dining
early to day, and having nothing but cold
meat, in order that the servants may get on
with their ironing; and yet, of course, we
must ask him to dinner—Edith's brother-in-law
and all. And your papa is in such low
spirits this morning about something—I don't
know what. I went into the study just now,
and he had his face on the table, covering it
with his hands. I told him I was sure
Helstone air did not agree with him any more
than with me, and he suddenly lifted up his
head, and begged me not to speak a word
more against Helstone, he could not bear it;
if there was one place he loved on earth
it was Helstone. But I am sure, for all that,
it is the damp and relaxing air."

Margaret felt as if a thin cold cloud had
come between her and the sun. She had
listened patiently, in hopes that it might be
some relief to her mother to unburden
herself; but now it was time to draw her back
to Mr. Lennox.

"Papa likes Mr. Lennox; they got on
together famously at the wedding breakfast..
I dare say his coming will do papa good.
And never mind the dinner, dear mamma.
Cold meat will do capitally for a lunch, which
is the light in which Mr. Lennox will most
likely look upon a two o'clock dinner."

"But what are we to do with him till
then? It is only half-past ten now."

"I'll ask him to go out sketching with me.
l know he draws, and that will take him
out of your way, mamma. Only do come in
now; he will think it so strange if you don't."

Mrs. Hale took off her black silk apron,
and smoothed her face. She looked a very
pretty lady-like woman as she greeted Mr.
Lennox with the cordiality due to one who
was almost a relation. He evidently expected
to be asked to spend the day, and accepted
the invitation with a glad readiness that
made Mrs. Hale wish she could add
something to the cold beef. He was pleased with
everything; delighted with Margaret's idea
of going out sketching together; would not
have Mr. Hale disturbed for the world, with
the prospect of so soon meeting him at dinner.
Margaret brought out her drawing materials