Breathing Tranquillity

'Henry,' said Edith, one day, archly; 'do you know what I hope
and expect all these long conversations with Margaret will end
in?' 'No, I don't,' said he, reddening. 'And I desire you not to tell
me.' 'Oh, very well; then I need not tell Sholto not to ask Mr.
Montagu so often to the house.' 'Just as you choose,' said he with forced coolness. 'What you are
thinking of, may or may not happen; but this time, before I
commit myself, I will see my ground clear. Ask whom you choose.
It may not be very civil, Edith, but if you meddle in it you will
mar it. She has been very farouche with me for a long time; and
is only just beginning to thaw a little from her Zenobia ways.
She has the making of a Cleopatra in her, if only she were a
little more pagan.' 'For my part,' said Edith, a little maliciously, 'I am very glad
she is a Christian. I know so very few!' There was no Spain for Margaret that autumn; although to the last
she hoped that some fortunate occasion would call Frederick to
Paris, whither she could easily have met with a convoy. Instead
of Cadiz, she had to content herself with Cromer. To that place
her aunt Shaw and the Lennoxes were bound. They had all along
wished her to accompany them, and, consequently, with their
characters, they made but lazy efforts to forward her own
separate wish. Perhaps Cromer was, in one sense of the
expression, the best for her. She needed bodily strengthening and
bracing as well as rest.