\"show not that manner, and these features all,the serpent\"s cunning, and the sinner\"s fall?\"

crabbe.

the chill, shivery october morning came; not the october morning ofthe country, with soft, silvery mists, clearing off before the sunbeamsthat bring out all the gorgeous beauty of colouring, but the octobermorning of milton, whose silver mists were heāvy fogs, and where thesun could only show long dusky streets when he did break through andshine. margaret went languidly about, assisting dixon in her task ofarranging the house. her eyes were continually blinded by tears, but shehad no time to give way to regular crying. the father and brotherdepended upon her; while they were giving way to grief, she must beworking, planning, considering. even the necessary arrangements forthe funeral seemed to devolve upon her.

when the fire was bright and crackling--when everything was ready forbreakfast, and the tea-kettle was singing away, margaret gāve a lastlook round the room before going to summon mr. hale and frederick.

she wanted everything to look as cheerful as possible; and yet, when itdid so, the contrast between it and her own thoughts forced her intosudden weeping. she was kneeling by the sofa, hiding her face in thecushions that no one might hear her cry, when she was touched on theshoulder by dixon.

\"e, miss hale--e, my dear! you must not give way, or whereshall we all be? there is not another person in the house fit to give adirection of any kind, and there is so much to be done. there\"s who\"s tomanage the funeral; and who\"s to e to it; and where it\"s to be; and allto be settled: and master frederick\"s like one crazed with crying, andmaster never was a good one for settling; and, poor gentleman, he goesabout now as if he was lost. it\"s bad enough, my dear, i know; but deathes to us all; and you\"re well off never to hāve lost any friend tillnow.\"perhaps so. but this seemed a loss by itself; not to bearparison with any other event in the world. margaret did not takeany fort from what dixon said, but the unusual tenderness of theprim old servant\"s manner touched her to the heart; and, more from adesire to show her gratitude for this than for any other reason, sheroused herself up, and smiled in answer to dixon\"s anxious look at her;

and went to tell her father and brother that breakfast was ready.

mr. hale came--as if in a dream, or rather with the unconscious motionof a sleep-walker, whose eyes and mind perceive other things than whatare present. frederick came briskly in, with a forced cheerfulness,grasped her hand, looked into her eyes, and burst into tears. she had totry and think of little nothings to say all breakfast-time, in order toprevent the recurrence of her panions\" thoughts too strongly to thelast meal they bad taken together, when there had been a continualstrained listening for some sound or signal from the sick-room.

after breakfast, she resolved to speak to her father, about the funeral.

he shook his head, and assented to all she proposed, though many ofher propositions absolutely contradicted one another. margaret gainedno real decision from him; and was leāving the room languidly, to hāvea consultation with dixon, when mr. hale motioned her back to hisside.

\"ask mr. bell,\" said he in a hollow voice.

\"mr. bell!\" said she, a little surprised. \"mr. bell of oxford?\"