Dixon stoutly and bluntly refused to go to bed; and, as for Margaret, it was simply impossible that she should leave her mother, let all the doctors in the world speak of "husbanding resources," and "one watcher only being required."

Dixon stoutly refused to go to bed; and, as for Margaret, it was simply impossible that she should leave her mother.


So, Dixon sat, and stared, and winked, and drooped, and picked herself up again with a jerk, and finally gave up the battle, and fairly snored.

So Dixon sat, and stared, and drooped, and picked herself up again with a jerk, and finally gave up and fairly snored.


Margaret had taken off her gown and tossed it aside with a sort of impatient disgust, and put on her dressing-gown. She felt as if she never could sleep again; as if her whole senses were acutely vital, and all endued with double keenness, for the purpose of watching.

Margaret, who had exchanged her gown for her dressing-gown, felt as if she never could sleep again; as if her senses were doubly keen.


Every sight and sound--nay, even every thought, touched some nerve to the very quick.

Every sight and sound touched some nerve to the very quick.


For more than two hours, she heard her father's restless movements in the next room. He came perpetually to the door of her mother's chamber, pausing there to listen, till she, not hearing his close unseen presence, went and opened it to tell him how all went on, in reply to the questions his baked lips could hardly form.

She heard her father's restless movements in the next room, coming to the door of her mother's chamber, and pausing to listen, till she opened it to tell him how all went on.


At last he, too, fell asleep, and all the house was still.

At last he, too, fell asleep, and the house was still.


Margaret sat behind the curtain thinking.


Far away in time, far away in space, seemed all the interests of past days.


Not more than thirty-six hours ago, she cared for Bessy Higgins and her father, and her heart was wrung for Boucher; now, that was all like a dreaming memory of some former life;--everything that had passed out of doors seemed dissevered from her mother, and therefore unreal.

Only thirty-six hours ago, her heart was wrung for Bessy and for Boucher; now, that was like a dreaming memory of some former life.


Even Harley Street appeared more distinct; there she remembered, as if it were yesterday, how she had pleased herself with tracing out her mother's features in her Aunt Shaw's face,--and how letters had come, making her dwell on the thoughs of home with all the longing of love.

Even Harley Street appeared more distinct; she remembered, as if it were yesterday, how she had pleased herself with tracing out her mother's features in her Aunt Shaw's face - and the letters that had come from home.


The dull gray days of the preceding winter and spring, so uneventless and monotonous, seemed more associated with what she cared for now above all price.


She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while it was yet in her possession.

She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while she had it.


How unsubstantial, and flickering, and flitting!


It was as if from some arial belfry, high up above the stir and jar of the earth, there was a bell continually tolling, "All are shadows!--all are passing!--all is past!"


And when the morning dawned, cool and gray, like many a happier morning before--when Margaret looked one by one at the sleepers, it seemed as if the terrible night were unreal as a dream; it, too, was a shadow.

And when the morning dawned, cool and grey, like many a happier morning before - when Margaret looked at the sleepers, it seemed as if the terrible night were as unreal as a dream; it, too, was a shadow.


Mrs. Hale herself was not aware when she awoke, how ill she had been the night before.

Mrs. Hale herself was not aware, when she awoke, of how ill she had been the night before.


She was rather surprised at Dr. Donaldson's early visit, and perplexed by the anxious faces of husband and child.


She consented to remain in bed that day, saying she certainly was tired; but, the next, she insisted on getting up; and Dr. Donaldson gave his consent to her returning into the drawing-room.

She consented to remain in bed, saying she certainly was tired; but the next day, she insisted on getting up; and Dr. Donaldson allowed her to return into the drawing-room.


She was restless and uncomfortable in every position, and before night she became very feverish.

She was restless and uncomfortable, and before night she became very feverish.


Mr. Hale was utterly listless, and incapable of deciding on anything.


"What can we do to spare mamma such another night?"

'What can we do to spare mamma such another night?'


Margaret asked the doctor on the third day.


"It is to a certain degree, the reaction after the powerful opiates I have been obliged to use.

'It is, to some degree, the reaction after the powerful opiates I have been obliged to use.


It is more painful for you to see than for her to bear, I believe.


But, I think, if we could get a water-bed it might be a good thing.


Not but what she will be better to-morrow; pretty much like herself as she was before this attack.

Though she will be better tomorrow; pretty much like herself again.


Still, I should like her to have a water-bed.


Mrs. Thornton has one, I know, made of rubber-coated canvas.


Stay," said he, his eye catching on Margaret's face, blanched with watching in a sick room, "I'm not sure whether I can go; I've a long round to take.

Stay,' said he, seeing Margaret's pale face. 'I'm not sure whether I can go; I've a long round to take.


It would do you no harm to have a brisk walk to Marlborough Street, and ask Mrs. Thornton if she can spare it."

It would do you no harm to have a brisk walk to Marlborough Street, and ask Mrs. Thornton if she can spare it.'


"I could go while mamma is asleep this afternoon.


I'm sure Mrs. Thornton would lend it to us."


Dr. Donaldson's experience told him rightly.


Mrs. Hale seemed to shake off the consequences of her attack, and looked brighter and better this afternoon than Margaret had ever hoped to see her again.

That afternoon Mrs. Hale seemed to shake off the consequences of her attack, and looked brighter and better than Margaret had hoped to see her again.


Her daughter left her after dinner, sitting in her easy chair, with her hand lying in her husband's, who looked more worn and suffering than she by far.

Her daughter left her after dinner, sitting in her easy chair beside her husband, who looked more worn and suffering than she.


Still, he could smile now--rather slowly, rather faintly, it is true; but a day or two before, Margaret never thought to see him smile again.

Still, he could smile now - if only faintly.


It was about two miles from their house in Crampton Crescent to Marlborough Street.

It was about two miles to Marlborough Street.


It was too hot to walk very quickly. An August sun beat straight down into the street at three o'clock in the afternoon.

It was too hot to walk very quickly; an August sun beat down.


Margaret went along, without noticing anything very different from usual in the first mile and a half of her journey; she was absorbed in her own thoughts, and had learnt by this time to thread her way through the irregular stream of human beings that flowed through Milton streets.

At first Margaret went along without noticing anything very different from usual; she was absorbed in her own thoughts.


But, by and by, she was struck with an unusual heaving among the mass of people in the crowded road on which she was entering.

But, by and by, she was struck with an unusual heaving among the mass of people in the crowded road.


They did not appear to be moving on, so much as talking, and listening, and buzzing with excitement without much stirring from the spot where they might happen to be.

They did not appear to be moving on, so much as talking, and listening, and buzzing with excitement, without stirring from the spot.


Still, as they made way for her, and, wrapt up in the purpose of her errand, and the necessities that suggested it, she was less quick of observation than she might have been, if her mind had been at ease. She had got into Marlborough Street before the full conviction forced itself upon her, that there was a restless, oppressive sense of irritation abroad among the people; a thunderous atmosphere, morally as well as physically, around her.

Still, since they made way for her, and she was wrapped in her errand and so less observant than she might have been, she had got into Marlborough Street before she realised that there was a restless, oppressive sense of irritation among the people; a thunderous atmosphere around her.


From every narrow lane opening out on Marlborough Street came up a low distant roar, as of myriads of fierce indignant voices.

From every narrow lane opening on to the street came a low distant roar of fierce indignant voices.


The inhabitants of each poor squalid dwelling were gathered round the doors and windows, if indeed they were not actually standing in the middle of the narrow ways--all with looks intent towards one point. Marlborough Street itself was the focus of all those human eyes, that betrayed intensest interest of various kinds; some fierce with anger, some lowering with relentless threats! some dilated with fear, or imploring entreaty; and as Margaret reached the small side-entrance by the folding doors, in the great dead wall of Marlborough mill-yard, and waited the porter's answer to the bell, she looked round and heard the first long far-off roll of the tempest;--saw the first slow-surging wave of the dark crowd come, with its threatening crest, tumble over, and retreat, at the far end of the street, which a moment ago seemed so full of repressed noise, but which now was ominously still; all these circumstances forced themselves on Margaret's notice, but did not sink down into her pre-occupied heart.

The inhabitants of each squalid dwelling were gathered at the doors, or standing in the middle of the lane - all looking towards Marlborough Street with intense interest in their eyes; some fierce with anger, some threatening, some dilated with fear, or imploring.
As Margaret reached the small side-entrance in the great dead wall of the mill-yard and waited for the porter to answer the bell, she looked round and heard the first long roll of the tempest; - saw the first slow-surging wave of the dark crowd come and then retreat, at the far end of the street, which now seemed ominously still.
Although Margaret noticed all these things, she was still pre-occupied.


She did not know what they meant--what was their deep significance; while she did know, did feel the keen sharp pressure of the knife that was soon to stab her through and through by leaving her motherless.

She did not know what they meant; while she did know and feel the keen sharp pressure of the knife that was soon to stab her through by leaving her motherless.


She was trying to realise that, in order that, when it came, she might be ready to comfort her father.

She was trying to realise that, so that she might be ready to comfort her father.


The porter opened the door cautiously, not nearly wide enough to admit her.


said he, drawing a long breath, and widening the entrance, but still not opening it fully.

said he, drawing a long breath, and widening the entrance a little.


"Th' folk are all coming up here, I reckon?"

'Th' folk are all coming up here, I reckon?'


Something unusual seemed going on; but this street is quite empty, I think."

Something unusual seemed to be going on; but this street is quite empty, I think.'


She went across the yard and put up the steps to the house door.

She went across the yard to the house door.


There was no near sound,--no steam engine at work with beat and pant,--no click of machinery, no mingling and clashing of many sharp voices; but far away, the ominous gathering roar, deep-clamouring.

There was no beat and pant of the steam-engine - no click of machinery; but far away, the ominous gathering roar.


"Show not that manner, and these features all, The serpent's cunning, and the sinner's fall?"

Chapter 31: 'SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?'


The chill, shivery October morning came; not the October morning of the country, with soft, silvery mists, clearing off before the sunbeams that bring out all the gorgeous beauty of colouring, but the October morning of Milton, whose silvery mists were heavy fogs, and where the sun could only show long dusky streets when he did break through and shine.

The chill, shivery October morning came; not the October morning of the country, with soft, silvery mists clearing before the sunbeams, but the October morning of Milton, whose silver mists were heavy fogs, and where the sun could only show long dusky streets when he did break through.


Margaret went languidly about, assisting Dixon in her task of arranging the house.

Margaret went languidly about, helping Dixon.


Her eyes were continually blinded by tears, but she had no time to give way to regular crying.

Her eyes were continually blinded by tears, but she had no time to cry.


The father and brother depended upon her; while they were giving way to grief, she must be working, planning, considering. Even the necessary arrangements for the funeral seemed to devolve upon her.

Her father and brother depended upon her; she must be working, planning, arranging the funeral.


When the fire was bright and crackling--when everything was ready for breakfast, and the tea-kettle was singing away, Margaret gave a last look round the room before going to summon Mr. Hale and Frederick.

When the fire was bright and crackling, and everything was ready for breakfast, and the tea-kettle was singing away, Margaret gave a last look round the room before going to summon Mr. Hale and Frederick.


She wanted everything to look as cheerful as possible; and yet, when it did so, the contrast between it and her own thoughts forced her into sudden weeping.

She wanted everything to look as cheerful as possible; and yet the contrast between it and her own thoughts forced her into sudden weeping.


She was kneeling by the sofa, hiding her face in the cushions that no one might hear her cry, when she was touched on the shoulder by Dixon.

She was hiding her face so that no one might hear her cry, when she was touched on the shoulder by Dixon.


You must not give way, or where shall we all be?


There is not another person in the house fit to give a direction of any kind, and there is so much to be done.


There's who's to manage the funeral; and who's to come to it; and where it's to be; and all to be settled: and Master Frederick's like one crazed with crying, and master never was a good one for settling; and, poor gentleman, he goes about now as if he was lost.

There's the funeral to manage; and Master Frederick's crazed with crying, and master, poor gentleman, goes about as if he was lost.


It's bad enough, my dear, I know; but death comes to us all; and you're well off never to have lost any friend till now."

It's bad, my dear, I know; but death comes to us all; and you're well off never to have lost any friend till now.'


But this seemed a loss by itself; not to bear comparison with any other event in the world.

But this seemed a loss not to be compared to any other.


Margaret did not take any comfort from what Dixon said, but the unusual tenderness of the prim old servant's manner touched her to the heart; and, more from a desire to show her gratitude for this than for any other reason, she roused 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.

Nevertheless, the unusual tenderness of the prim old servant touched Margaret to the heart. She smiled at Dixon; 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 motion of a sleep-walker, whose eyes and mind perceive other things than what are present.


Frederick came briskly in, with a forced cheerfulness, grasped her hand, looked into her eyes and burst into tears.

Frederick entered briskly, with a forced cheerfulness, grasped her hand, looked into her eyes, and burst into tears.


She had to try and think of little nothings to say all breakfast-time, in order to prevent the recurrence of her companions' thoughts too strongly to the last meal they had taken together, when there had been a continual strained listening for some sound or signal from the sick-room.

She had to try and think of little nothings to say all breakfast-time, to prevent her companions from thinking too much about the last meal they had taken together.


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

After breakfast, she spoke to her father about the funeral.


He shook his head, and assented to all she proposed, though many of her propositions absolutely contradicted one another.

He shook his head, and agreed to all she proposed, though many of her propositions contradicted one another.


Margaret gained no real decision from him; and was leaving the room languidly, to have a consultation with Dixon, when Mr. Hale motioned her back to his side.

Margaret was leaving the room when Mr. Hale beckoned her back.


"Ask Mr. Bell," said he in a hollow voice.

'Ask Mr. Bell,' said he in a hollow voice.


Margaret understood the association.
"I will write to-day," said she.

Margaret understood, and said, 'I will write today.'


All morning she toiled on, longing for rest, but in a continual whirl of melancholy business.


I was really afraid for master, that he'd have a stroke with grief.

I was really afraid that master would have a stroke with grief.


He's been all this day with poor missus; and when I've listened at the door, I've heard him talking to her, and talking to her, as if she was alive.

He's been all this day with poor missus; talking to her as if she was alive.


When I went in he would be quite quiet, but all in a maze like.

When I went in he would be quiet, but all in a maze like.


So I thought to myself, he ought to be roused; and if it gives him a shock at first, it will, maybe, be the better for him afterwards.

I thought to myself, he ought to be roused.


So I've been and told him, that I don't think it's safe for Master Frederick to be here.


It was only on Tuesday, when I was out, that I met a Southampton man--the first I've seen since I came to Milton; they don't make their way much up here, I think. Well, it was young Leonards, old Leonards the draper's son, as great a scamp as ever lived--who plagued his father almost to death, and then ran off to sea.

It was only on Tuesday, when I was out, that I met a Southampton man - young Leonards, old Leonards the draper's son, as great a scamp as ever lived - who plagued his father almost to death, and then ran off to sea.


He was in the Orion at the same time as Frederick, I know; though I don't recollect if he was there at the mutiny."

He was on the Orion at the same time as Master Frederick, I know; though I don't recollect if he was there at the mutiny.'


I don't believe he would have known me but for my being such a fool as to call out his name.


He were a Southampton man, in a strange place, or else I should never have been so ready to call cousins with him, a nasty, good-for-nothing-fellow.


who would ha' thought of seeing you here?


But perhaps I mistake, and you're Miss Dixon no longer?'

But perhaps I mistake, and you're Miss Dixon no longer?"


So I told him he might still address me as an unmarried lady, though if I hadn't been so particular, I'd had good chances of matrimony.


He was polite enough: 'He couldn't look at me and doubt me.' But I were not to be caught with such chaff from such a fellow as him, and so I told him; and, by way of being even, I asked him after his father (who I knew had turned him out of doors), as if they were the best friends as ever was.

He was polite enough; but I asked after his father (who I knew had turned him out), as if they was best friends.


So then, to spite me--for you see we were getting savage, for all we were so civil to each other--he began to inquire after Master Frederick, and said, what a scrape he'd got into (as if Master Frederick's scrapes would ever wash George Leonards white, or make 'em look otherwise than nasty, dirty black), and how he'd be hung for mutiny if ever he were caught, and how a hundred pound reward had been offered for catching him, and what a disgrace he had been to his family--all to spite me, you see, my dear, because before now I've helped old Mr. Leonards to give George a good rating, down in Southampton.

So then, to spite me - for you see we were getting savage, for all we were so civil to each other - he began to inquire after Master Frederick, and said what a scrape he'd got into, and how he'd be hung for mutiny if ever he were caught, and how a hundred pound reward had been offered for catching him, and what a disgrace he had been to his family.


So I said, there were other families as I knew, who had far more cause to blush for their sons, and to be thankful if they could think they were earning an honest living far away from home.

So I said, there were other families who had far more cause to blush for their sons.


To which he made answer, like the impudent chap he is, that he were in a confidential situation, and if I knew of any young man who had been so unfortunate as to lead vicious courses, and wanted to turn steady, he'd have no objection to lend him his patronage.

To which he made answer, like the impudent chap he is, that if I knew of any young man who had been leading vicious courses, and wanted to turn steady, he'd lend a hand.


I've not felt so bad myself for years as when I were standing talking to him the other day.


I could have cried to think I couldn't spite him better, for he kept smiling in my face, as if he took all my compliments for earnest; and I couldn't see that he minded what I said in the least, while I was mad with all his speeches."

I could have cried to think I couldn't spite him better, for he kept smiling in my face, while I was mad with him.'


"But you did not tell him anything about us--about Frederick?"

'But you did not tell him anything about Frederick?'


"He had never the grace to ask where I was staying; and I shouldn't have told him if he had asked.

'He had never the grace to ask where I was staying; and I shouldn't have told him if he had asked.


Nor did I ask him what his precious situation was.


He was waiting for a bus, and just then it drove up, and he hailed it.


But, to plague me to the last, he turned back before he got in, and said, 'If you can help me to trap Lieutenant Hale, Miss Dixon, we'll go partners in the reward.

But he turned back before he got in, and said, "If you can help me to trap Lieutenant Hale, Miss Dixon, we'll go partners in the reward.


I know you'd like to be my partner, now wouldn't you?

I know you'd like to be my partner, wouldn't you?


And he jumped on the bus, and I saw his ugly face leering at me with a wicked smile to think how he'd had the last word of plaguing."

And he jumped on the bus, and I saw his ugly face leering at me with a wicked smile.'


Margaret was made very uncomfortable by this account of Dixon's.

Margaret was made very uncomfortable by this account.


"I were uneasy in my mind at knowing that bad Leonards was in town; but there was so much else to think about that I did not dwell on it all.

'I were uneasy in my mind knowing that Leonards was in town; but there was so much else to think about that I did not dwell on it.


But when I saw master sitting so stiff, and with his eyes so glazed and sad, I thought it might rouse him to have to think of Master Frederick in hiding, he would have to go, poor fellow, before Mr. Bell came."

But when I saw master sitting so stiff and sad, I thought it might rouse him to have to think of Master Frederick's safety. So I told him all; and it has done master good. And if we're to keep Master Frederick in hiding, he would have to go before Mr. Bell came.'


"Oh, I'm not afraid of Mr. Bell; but I am afraid of this Leonards.

'Oh, I'm not afraid of Mr. Bell; but I am afraid of this Leonards.


"A bad-looking fellow, I can assure you, miss.


Whiskers such as I should be ashamed to wear--they are so red.

Whiskers such as I should be ashamed to wear - they are so red.


And for all he said he'd got a confidential situation, he was dressed in fustian just like a working-man."

And he was dressed in coarse fustian just like a working-man.'


Go, too, when he had so completely vaulted into his place in the family, and promised to be such a stay and staff to his father and sister.

Go, too, when he had promised to be such a support to his father and sister.


Go, when his cares for the living mother, and sorrow for the dead, seemed to make him one of those peculiar people who are bound to us by a fellow-love for them that are taken away.


Just as Margaret was thinking all this, sitting over the drawing-room fire--her father restless and uneasy under the pressure of this newly-aroused fear, of which he had not as yet spoken--Frederick came in, his brightness dimmed, but the extreme violence of his grief passed away.

Just as Margaret was thinking this, sitting by the drawing-room fire - her father restless and uneasy with this newly-aroused fear - Frederick came in.


He came up to Margaret, and kissed her forehead.


"You have been thinking of everybody, and no one has thought of you.


Lie on this sofa--there is nothing for you to do."

Lie on this sofa - there is nothing for you to do.'


"That is the worst," said Margaret, in a sad whisper.

'That is the worst thing,' said Margaret sadly.


But she went and lay down, and her brother covered her feet with a shawl and then sate on the ground by her side; and the two began to talk together in a subdued tone.

But she went and lay down, and her brother sat on the floor by her side.
The two began to talk in a subdued tone.


Margaret told him all that Dixon had related of her interview with young Leonards.


Frederick's lips closed with a long whew of dismay.


"I should just like to have it out with that young fellow.


A worse sailor was never on board ship--nor a much worse man either.

'A worse sailor was never on board ship - nor a much worse man either.


I declare, Margaret--you know the circumstances of the whole affair?"


"Well, when all the sailors who were good for anything were indignant with our captain, this fellow to curry favour--pah!

'Well, when all the sailors who were good for anything were indignant with our captain, this fellow, to curry favour - pah!


Oh, if he'd a notion I was within twenty miles of him, he'd ferret me out to pay all old grudges.

If he knew I was within twenty miles of him, he'd ferret me out to pay off old grudges.


I'd rather anybody had the hundred pounds they think I am worth than that rascal.

I'd rather anybody had the hundred pounds reward than that rascal.


What a pity poor old Dixon could not be persuaded to give me up, and make a provision for her old age!"

What a pity poor old Dixon could not be persuaded to give me up, and provide for her old age!'


Mr. Hale came towards them, eager and trembling.


He had overheard what they were saying. He took Frederick's hand in both of his:

He had overheard, and took Frederick's hand, saying:


You have done all you could--you have been a comfort to her."

You have done all you could - you have been a comfort to her.'


said Margaret, pleading against her own conviction of necessity.


"I declare, I've a good mind to face it out, and stand my trial.

'I declare, I've a good mind to face it out, and stand my trial,' said Frederick.


I cannot endure the thought of being in the power of such a blackguard as Leonards.

I cannot endure the thought of being in the power of a blackguard like Leonards.


I could almost have enjoyed--in other circumstances--this stolen visit: it has had all the charm which the Frenchwoman attributed to forbidden pleasures."

I could almost have enjoyed - in other circumstances - this stolen visit: it has had all the charm of forbidden pleasures.'


"One of the earliest things I can remember," said Margaret, "was your being in some great disgrace, Fred, for stealing apples.

'One of the earliest things I can remember,' said Margaret, 'was your being in great disgrace, Fred, for stealing apples.


We had plenty of our own--trees loaded with them; but some one had told you that stolen fruit tasted sweetest, which you took au pied de la lettre, and off you went a-robbing.

We had plenty of our own, but someone had told you that stolen fruit tasted sweetest, and off you went a-robbing.


You have not changed your feelings much since then."


"Yes--you must go," repeated Mr. Hale, answering Margaret's question, which she had asked some time ago. His thoughts were fixed on one subject, and it was an effort to him to follow the zigzag remarks of his children--an effort which he did not make.

'Yes - you must go,' repeated Mr. Hale, not following the zig-zag remarks of his children.


Margaret and Frederick looked at each other. That quick momentary sympathy would be theirs no longer if he went away.

Margaret and Frederick looked at each other with quick sympathy.


So much was understood through eyes that could not be put into words.

So much was understood that could not be put into words.


Both coursed the same thought till it was lost in sadness.


"Do you know, Margaret, I was very nearly giving both Dixon and myself a good fright this afternoon.

'Do you know, Margaret, I nearly gave both Dixon and myself a good fright this afternoon.


I was in my bedroom; I had heard a ring at the front door, but I thought the ringer must have done his business and gone away long ago; so I was on the point of making my appearance in the passage, when, as I opened my room door, I saw Dixon coming downstairs; and she frowned and kicked me into hiding again.

I was in my bedroom; I had heard a ring at the front door, but I thought the ringer must have gone away; so I was just coming out into the passage, when I saw Dixon; and she frowned and kicked me into hiding again.


I kept the door open, and heard a message given to some man that was in my father's study, and that then went away.

I kept the door open, and heard a message given to some man in my father's study, who then went away.


"Very likely," said Margaret indifferently.


"There was a little quiet man who came up for orders about two o'clock."


"But this was not a little man--a great powerful fellow; and it was past four when he was here."


They were glad to have drawn him into the conversation.


asked Frederick, as she did not finish her sentence.


"Oh, only," said she, reddening and looking straight at him, "I fancied you meant some one of a different class, not a gentleman; somebody come on an errand."

'Oh, only,' said she, reddening, 'I thought you meant someone come on an errand, not a gentleman.'


"He looked like someone of that kind," said Frederick, carelessly. "I took him for a shopman, and he turns out a manufacturer."

'I took him for a shopman,' said Frederick, carelessly.


She remembered how at first, before she knew his character, she had spoken and thought of him just as Frederick was doing.

She remembered how at first she had spoken of Mr. Thornton just as Frederick was doing.


It was but a natural impression that was made upon him, and yet she was a little annoyed by it.

It was only natural, and yet she was a little annoyed by it.


She was unwilling to speak; she wanted to make Frederick understand what kind of person Mr. Thornton was--but she was tongue-tied.

She wanted to make Frederick understand what kind of person Mr. Thornton was - but she was tongue-tied.


"He came to offer any assistance in his power, I believe.

'He came to offer any assistance in his power.


I told Dixon to ask him if he would like to see you--I think I asked her to find you, and you would go to him.

I told Dixon to ask him if he would like to see you.'


"He has been a very agreeable acquaintance, has he not?"

'He has been a very agreeable acquaintance, has he not?'


asked Frederick, throwing the question like a ball for any one to catch who chose.


"A very kind friend," said Margaret, when her father did not answer.

'A very kind friend,' said Margaret, when her father did not answer.


"Margaret, it is painful to think I can never thank those who have shown you kindness.

'Margaret, it is painful to think I can never thank those who have shown you kindness.


Your acquaintances and mine must be separate. Unless, indeed, I run the chances of a court-martial, or unless you and my father would come to Spain."

Your acquaintances and mine must be separate - unless I run the chances of a court-martial, or you both come to Spain.'


He threw out this last suggestion as a kind of feeler; and then suddenly made the plunge.


I have a good position--the chance of a better," continued he, reddening like a girl.

I have a good position,' continued he, reddening.


"That Dolores Barbour that I was telling you of, Margaret--I only wish you knew her; I am sure you would like--no, love is the right word, like is so poor--you would love her, father, if you knew her.

'That Dolores Barbour that I was telling you of, Margaret - I only wish you knew her; I am sure you would like - no, love is the right word - you would love her, father, if you knew her.


She is not eighteen; but if she is in the same mind another year, she is to be my wife.

She is not eighteen; but if she is in the same mind next year, she is to be my wife.


Mr. Barbour won't let us call it an engagement.


But if you would come you would find friends everywhere, besides Dolores.

But if you would come, you would find friends everywhere, besides Dolores.


"No--no more removals for me," said Mr. Hale.

'No more removals for me,' said Mr. Hale.


She will be here; and here will I stay out my appointed time."

She will be here; and here will I stay.'


"Oh, Frederick," said Margaret, "tell us more about her.

'Oh, Frederick,' said Margaret, 'tell us more about Dolores.


I never thought of this; but I am so glad.


You will have some one to love and care for you out there.

You will have someone to love and care for you out there.'


"In the first place, she is a Roman Catholic.

'In the first place, she is a Roman Catholic.


That's the only objection I anticipated.


But my father's change of opinion--nay, Margaret, don't sigh."

But my father's change of opinion - nay, Margaret, don't sigh.'


Margaret had reason to sigh a little more before the conversation ended.

Margaret had reason to sigh a little more before long.


Frederick himself was Roman Catholic in fact, though not in profession as yet.

Frederick himself was Roman Catholic, though not officially as yet.


This was, then, the reason why his sympathy in her extreme distress at her father's leaving the church had been so faintly expressed in his letters.

This, then, was the reason why he had shown so little distress at her father's leaving the Anglican Church.


She had thought it was the carelessness of a sailor; but the truth was, that even then he was himself inclined to give up the form of religion into which had been baptized, only that his opinions were tending in exactly the opposite direction to those of his father.


How much love had to do with this change not even Frederick himself could have told.


Margaret gave up talking about this branch of the subject at last; and, returning to the fact of the engagement, she began to consider it in some fresh light.

Margaret gave up talking about this subject. Returning to the engagement, she began to see it in a fresh light:


"But for her sake, Fred, you surely will try and clear yourself of the exaggerated charges brought against you, even if the charge of mutiny itself be true.

'But for her sake, Fred, you surely will try and clear yourself of the charges brought against you.


If there were to be a court-martial, and you could find your witnesses, you might, at any rate, show your disobedience to authority was because that authority was unworthily exercised."

If there were to be a court-martial, and you could find your witnesses, you might show how your disobedience to authority was because that authority was unworthily exercised.'


Mr. Hale roused himself up to listen to his son's answer.


"In the first place, Margaret, who is to hunt up my witnesses?

'Who is to hunt up my witnesses?' responded Frederick.


All of them are sailors, drafted off to other ships, except those whose evidence would go for very little, as they took part or sympathised in the affair.

'All of them are sailors, drafted off to other ships, except those whose evidence would go for very little, as they took part in the affair.


In the next place allow me to tell you, you don't know what a court-martial is, and consider it as an assembly where justice is administered, instead of what it really is--a court where authority weighs nine-tenths in the balance, and evidence forms only the other tenth.

And you don't know what a court-martial is. You consider it as an assembly where justice is administered, but really it is a court where authority weighs nine-tenths in the balance, and evidence forms only the other tenth.'


In such cases, evidence itself can hardly escape being influenced by the prestige of authority."


"But is it not worth trying, to see how much evidence might be discovered and arrayed on your behalf?

'But is it not worth trying, to see how much evidence might be discovered and arrayed on your behalf?


At present, all those who knew you formerly, believe you guilty without any shadow of excuse.

At present, you are believed guilty without any shadow of excuse.


You have never tried to justify yourself, and we have never known where to seek for proofs of your justification.

You have never tried to justify yourself.


Now, for Miss Barbour's sake, make your conduct as clear as you can in the eye of the world.


She may not care for it; she has, I am sure, that trust in you that we all have; but you ought not to let her ally herself to one under such a serious charge, without showing the world exactly how it is you stand.

She trusts in you, I am sure; but you ought not to let her ally herself to one under such a serious charge, without showing the world exactly how you stand.


You disobeyed authority--that was bad; but to have stood by, without word or act, while the authority was brutally used, would have been infinitely worse.

You disobeyed authority - that was bad; but to have stood by passively while the authority was brutally used, would have been infinitely worse.


People know what you did; but not the motives that elevate it out of a crime into an heroic protection of the weak. For Dolores' sake, they ought to know."

For Dolores' sake, people ought to know your motives.'


"But how must I make them know? I am not sufficiently sure of the purity and justice of those who would be my judges, to give myself up to a court-martial, even if I could bring a whole array of truth-speaking witnesses.

'But I am not sure enough of the purity of my judges to give myself up to a court-martial, even if I could bring a whole array of witnesses.'


I can't send a bell-man about, to cry aloud and proclaim in the streets what you are pleased to call my heroism.


No one would read a pamphlet of self-justification so long after the deed, even if I put one out."


"Will you consult a lawyer as to your chances of exculpation?"

'Will you consult a lawyer as to your chances?'


asked Margaret, looking up, and turning very red.


"I must first catch my lawyer, and have a look at him, and see how I like him, before I make him into my confidant.

'I must first catch my lawyer, and have a look at him, before I confide in him.


Many a briefless barrister might twist his conscience into thinking, that he could earn a hundred pounds very easily by doing a good action--in giving me, a criminal up to justice."

Many a briefless barrister might decide he could earn a hundred pounds very easily by giving me up to justice.'


"Nonsense, Frederick!--because I know a lawyer on whose honour I can rely; of whose cleverness in his profession people speak very highly; and who would, I think, take a good deal of trouble for any of--Aunt Shaw's relations.

'I know a lawyer on whose honour I can rely; people speak very highly of his cleverness; and I think he would take a good deal of trouble for any of - of Aunt Shaw's relations.


"I think it is a good idea," said Mr. Hale.


"But don't propose anything which will detain Frederick in England.

'But don't propose anything which will detain Frederick in England.'


"You could go to London by a night-train," continued Margaret, warming up into her plan. "He must go to-morrow, I'm afraid, papa," said she, tenderly; "we fixed that, because of Mr. Bell, and Dixon's disagreeable acquaintance."

'You could go to London tomorrow evening by overnight train,' suggested Margaret.


"Yes; I must go to-morrow," said Frederick, decidedly.


"I can't bear to part with you, and yet I am miserable with anxiety as long as you stop here."

'I can't bear to part with you, and yet I am miserable with anxiety as long as you stop here.'


"Well then," said Margaret, "listen to my plan.

'Well then,' said Margaret, 'listen to my plan.


I will--you might--no! it would be better to give him a note to Mr. Lennox. You will find him at his chambers in the Temple."

I will give him a note to Mr. Lennox; his chambers are in the Temple.'


"I will write down a list of all the names I can remember on board the Orion. I could leave it with him to ferret them out.

'I will write down a list of all the names I can remember on board the Orion, and leave it with him to ferret them out.


He is Edith's husband's brother, isn't he?


I remember your naming him in your letters.


I can pay a pretty long bill, if there's any chance of success.

I can pay a pretty long bill, if there is any chance of success.'


Money, dear father, that I had meant for a different purpose; so I shall only consider it as borrowed from you and Margaret."


And it will be as risk; only it is worth trying.


You can sail from London as well as from Liverpool?"

'You can sail from London as well as from Liverpool?' asked Margaret.


Wherever I feel water heaving under a plank, there I feel at home.


I'll pick up some craft or other to take me off, never fear.


I won't stay twenty-four hours in London, away from you on the one hand, and from somebody else on the other."

I won't stay twenty-four hours in London.'


It was rather a comfort to Margaret that Frederick took it into his head to look over her shoulder as she wrote to Mr. Lennox.

It was rather a comfort to Margaret that Frederick looked over her shoulder as she wrote to Mr. Lennox.


If she had not been thus compelled to write steadily and concisely on, she might have hesitated over many a word, and been puzzled to choose between many an expression, in the awkwardness of being the first to resume the intercourse of which the concluding event had been so unpleasant to both sides.

It made her write steadily and concisely, despite the awkwardness of being the first to resume communications after his proposal.


However, the note was taken from her before she had even had time to look it over, and treasured up in a pocket-book, out of which fell a long lock of black hair, the sight of which caused Frederick's eyes to glow with pleasure.

The note was taken from her before she had even had time to look it over, and treasured up in a pocket-book, out of which fell a long lock of black hair, which caused Frederick's eyes to glow with pleasure.


"Now you would like to see that, wouldn't you?"

'Now you would like to see that, wouldn't you?'


you must wait till you see her herself.'


She is too perfect to be known by fragments.


No mean brick shall be a specimen of the building of my palace."


"I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, Through constant watching wise, To meet the glad with joyful smiles, And to wipe the weeping eyes; And a heart at leisure from itself To soothe and sympathise."


Margaret made a good listener to all her mother's little plans for adding some small comforts to the lot of the poorest parishioners. She could not help listening, though each new project was a stab to her heart.

Margaret made a good listener to all her mother's little plans for helping the poorer parishioners, though each new project was a stab to her heart.


By the time the frost had set in, they should be far away from Helstone.


Old Simon's rheumatism might be bad and his eyesight worse; there would be no one to go and read to him, and comfort him with little porringers of broth and good red flannel; or if there was, it would be a stranger, and the old man would watch in vain for her.

Old Simon's rheumatism might be bad and his eyesight worse; there would be no one to go and read to him, and take him broth.


Mary Domville's little crippled boy would crawl in vain to the door and look for her coming through the forest.


These poor friends would never understand why she had forsaken them; and there were many others besides.

These poor friends, and many others, would never understand why she had forsaken them.


"Papa has always spent the income he derived from his living in the parish.


I am, perhaps, encroaching upon the next dues, but the winter is likely to be severe, and our poor people must be helped."

'The winter is likely to be severe,' said her mother, 'and the old people must be helped.'


"Oh, mamma, let us do all we can," said Margaret eagerly, not seeing the prudential side of the question, only grasping at the idea that they were rendering such help for the last time; "we may not be here long."

'Oh, mamma, let us do all we can,' said Margaret eagerly; 'we may not be here long.'


asks Mrs. Hale, anxiously, misunderstanding Margaret's hint of the uncertainty of their stay at Helstone.


"No--no, mamma, it is not that: it is delicious air.


It smells of the freshest, purest fragrance, after the smokiness of Harley Street.

It smells fresh and pure after the smokiness of Harley Street.


But I am tired: it surely must be near bedtime."

But I am tired: it must be near bedtime.'


I will come and see you as soon as you are in bed.


I am afraid you have taken cold; or the bad air from some of the stagnant ponds--"


"Oh, mamma," said Margaret, faintly smiling as she kissed her mother, "I am quite well--don't alarm yourself about me; I am only tired."

'Oh, mamma,' said Margaret, faintly smiling as she kissed her mother, 'I am quite well - don't alarm yourself.'


To soothe her mother's anxiety she submitted to a basin of gruel.

To soothe her mother's anxiety, she submitted to a basin of gruel.


She was lying languidly in bed when Mrs. Hale came up to make some last inquiries and kiss her before going to her own room for the night.

She was lying in bed when Mrs. Hale came up to kiss her good-night.


But the instant she heard her mother's door locked, she sprang out of bed, and throwing her dressing-gown on, she began to pace up and down the room, until the creaking of one of the boards reminded her that she must make no noise.

But the instant she heard her mother's door locked, she sprang out of bed, and throwing her dressing-gown on, began to pace up and down the room, until the creaking of the boards reminded her that she must make no noise.


She went and curled herself upon the window-seat in the small, deeply-recessed window.

She went and curled up on the window-seat.


That morning when she had looked out, her heart had danced at seeing the bright clear lights on the church tower, which foretold a fine and sunny day.

That morning when she had looked out, her heart had danced at seeing the sunlight on the church tower.


This evening--sixteen hours at most had past by--she sat down, too full of sorrow to cry, but with a cold dull pain, which seemed to have pressed the youth and buoyancy out of her heart, never to return.

This evening she sat down with a dull cold pain, which seemed to have pressed the youth and buoyancy out of her heart.


Mr. Henry Lennox's visit--his offer--was like a dream, a thing beside her actual life.

Mr. Henry Lennox's visit was like a dream.


The hard reality was, that her father had so admitted tempting doubts into his mind as to become a schismatic--an outcast; all the changes consequent upon this grouped themselves around that one great blighting fact.

The hard reality was that her father had made himself an outcast; all the resulting changes grouped themselves around that one great blighting fact.


She looked out upon the dark-grey lines of the church towers, square and straight in the centre of the view, cutting against the deep blue transparent depths beyond, into which she gazed, and felt that she might gaze for ever, seeing at every moment some farther distance, and yet no sign of God!

She looked out upon the dark-grey lines of the church tower, square and straight, cutting against the deep blue transparent depths beyond, into which she gazed, and felt that she might gaze for ever, seeing at every moment some farther distance, and yet no sign of God!


It seemed to her at the moment, as if the earth was more utterly desolate than if girt in by an iron dome, behind which there might be the ineffaceable peace and glory of the Almighty: those never-ending depths of space, in their still serenity, were more mocking to her than any material bounds could be--shutting in the cries of earth's sufferers, which now might ascend into that infinite splendour of vastness and be lost--lost for ever, before they reached His throne.

It seemed to her as if the earth was utterly desolate. Those never-ending depths of space, in their still serenity, were mocking to her. The cries of earth's sufferers might ascend into that infinite splendour of vastness and be lost for ever, before they reached His throne.


In this mood her father came in unheard. The moonlight was strong enough to let him see his daughter in her unusual place and attitude. He came to her and touched her shoulder before she was aware that he was there.

Her father came in unheard, and touched her shoulder.


I could not help coming in to ask you to pray with me--to say the Lord's Prayer; that will do good to both of us."

I could not help coming in to ask you to pray with me - to say the Lord's Prayer; that will do us both good.'


Mr. Hale and Margaret knelt by the window-seat--he looking up, she bowed down in humble shame.

They knelt by the window-seat - he looking up, she bowed in humble shame.


God was there, close around them, hearing her father's whispered words.

God was there, hearing her father's whispered words.


Her father might be a heretic; but had not she, in her despairing doubts not five minutes before, shown herself a far more utter sceptic?

Her father might be a heretic; but had not she, in her despair five minutes before, shown herself a far more utter sceptic?


She spoke not a word, but stole to bed after her father had left her, like a child ashamed of its fault.

After her father left her, she stole to bed like a child ashamed of its fault.


If the world was full of perplexing problems she would trust, and only ask to see the one step needful for the hour.

If the world was full of perplexing problems, she would only ask to see the one step needful for the hour.


Mr. Lennox--his visit, his proposal--the remembrance of which had been so rudely pushed aside by the subsequent events of the day--haunted her dreams that night.

Mr. Lennox's proposal - the memory of which had been so rudely pushed aside by the day's events - haunted her dreams that night.


He was climbing up some tree of fabulous height to reach the branch whereon was slung her bonnet: he was falling and she was struggling to save him, but held back by some invisible powerful hand.

He was climbing up some tall tree to reach the branch whereon was slung her bonnet: he was falling, and she was struggling to save him, but held back by some invisible powerful hand.


And yet, with a shifting of the scene, she was once more in the Harley Street drawing-room, talking to him as of old, and still with a consciousness all the time that she had seen him killed by that terrible fall.

And then she was once more in the Harley Street drawing-room, talking to him as of old, and yet knowing that she had seen him killed by that terrible fall.


She awoke with a start, unrefreshed, and conscious of some reality worse even than her feverish dreams.

She awoke with a start, unrefreshed, and conscious of a reality worse even than her feverish dreams.


It all came back upon her; not merely the sorrow, but the terrible discord in the sorrow.

It all came back upon her; the sorrow and the terrible discord.


Where, to what distance apart, had her father wandered, led by doubts which were to her temptations of the Evil One?

Where had her father wandered, led by doubts which were to her temptations of the Evil One?


She longed to ask, and yet would not have heard for all the world.

She longed to ask, and yet did not want to hear.


The fine crisp morning made her mother feel particularly well and happy at breakfast-time.

The fine crisp morning made her mother particularly happy at breakfast-time.


She talked on, planning village kindness, unheeding the silence of her husband and the monosyllabic answers of Margaret.

She talked on, not heeding her husband's silence and Margaret's monosyllabic answers.


Before the things were cleared away, Mr. Hale got up; he leaned one hand on the table, as if to support himself:

Before the things were cleared away, Mr. Hale got up.


I am going to Bracy Common, and will ask Farmer Dobson to give me something for dinner. I shall be back to tea at seven."

I am going to Bracy Common, and will be back to tea at seven.'


He did not look at either of them, but Margaret knew what he meant.


By seven the announcement must be made to her mother.


Mr. Hale would have delayed making it, but Margaret was of different stuff.

Mr. Hale would have delayed making it till half-past six, but Margaret was of different stuff.


She could not bear the impending weight on her mind all day long: better get the worst over; the day would be too short to comfort her mother.

She could not bear the weight on her mind all day long: better get it over.


But while she stood by the window, thinking how to begin, and waiting for the servant to have left the room, her mother had gone up stairs to put on her things to go to the school.

But while she stood by the window, waiting for the servant to leave the room, her mother had gone upstairs to put on her things to go to the school.


She came down ready equipped, in a brisker mood than usual.


"Mother, come round the garden with me this morning; just one turn," said Margaret, putting her arm round Mrs. Hale's waist.

'Mother, come round the garden with me this morning,' said Margaret, putting her arm round Mrs. Hale's waist.


Mrs. Hale spoke--said something--Margaret could not tell what.

Mrs. Hale said something - Margaret could not tell what.


Her eye caught on a bee entering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth with his spoil she would begin--that should be the sign.

Her eye caught on a bee entering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth she would begin.


"He's going to leave the Church, and live in Milton-Northern."

'He's going to leave the Church, and live in Milton-Northern.'


There were the three hard facts hardly spoken.


asked Mrs. Hale, in a surprised, incredulous voice.

asked Mrs. Hale, in an incredulous voice.


"Who has been telling you such nonsense?"

'Who has been telling you such nonsense?'


"Papa himself," said Margaret, longing to say something gentle and consoling, but literally not knowing how.

'Papa himself,' said Margaret, longing to say something gentle and consoling, but not knowing how.


They were close to a garden-bench. Mrs. Hale sat down and began to cry.

Mrs. Hale sat down on a garden bench, and began to cry.


"Either you have made some great mistake, or I don't quite understand you."


Papa has written to the bishop, saying that he has such doubts that he cannot conscientiously remain a priest of the Church of England, and that he must give up Helstone.

Papa has written to the bishop, saying that he has such doubts that he cannot remain a priest of the Church of England, and that he must give up Helstone.


He has also consulted Mr. Bell--Frederick's godfather, you know, mamma; and it is arranged that we go to live at Milton-Northern."

He has also consulted Mr. Bell - Frederick's godfather, you know; and it is arranged that we shall go to live in Milton-Northern.'


Mrs. Hale looked up in Margaret's face all the time she was speaking these words: the shadow on her countenance told that she, at least, believed in the truth of what she said.


"I don't think it can be true," said Mrs. Hale, at length.

'I don't think it can be true,' said she, at length.


"He would surely have told me before it came to this."


It came strongly upon Margaret's mind that her mother ought to have been told: that whatever her faults of discontent and repining might have been, it was an error in her father to have left her to learn his change of opinion, and his approaching change of life, from her better-informed child.

It came strongly upon Margaret's mind that her mother ought to have been told: that whatever her faults of discontent, it was an error in her father to have left her to learn of this change from her child.


Margaret sat down by her mother, and took her unresisting head on her breast, bending her own soft cheeks down caressingly to touch her face.

She sat down by her mother, and took her unresisting head on her breast, bending her own soft cheeks down caressingly to touch her face.


Papa felt so acutely--you know you are not strong, and there must have been such terrible suspense to go through."

Papa felt so acutely - you know you are not strong, and there would have been terrible suspense to go through.'


"Yesterday, only yesterday," replied Margaret, detecting the jealousy which prompted the inquiry.

'Yesterday, only yesterday,' replied Margaret, detecting the jealousy which prompted the inquiry.


--trying to divert her mother's thoughts into compassionate sympathy for all her father had gone through.

- trying to divert her mother's thoughts into compassion for all her father had gone through.


"Surely, he does not mean that he thinks differently--that he knows better than the Church."

'Surely, he does not mean that he knows better than the Church.'


Margaret shook her head, and the tears came into her eyes, as her mother touched the bare nerve of her own regret.

Margaret shook her head, and the tears came into her eyes.


I could not bear to hear what he might answer.


He is going to leave Helstone in a fortnight.'


I am not sure if he did not say he had sent in his deed of resignation."


exclaimed Mrs. Hale, "I do think this is very strange--not at all right. I call it very unfeeling," said she, beginning to take relief in tears.

exclaimed Mrs. Hale, beginning to take relief in tears. 'This is very strange - very unfeeling.


"He has doubts you say, and gives up his living, and all without consulting me.

He has doubts, and gives up his living, all without consulting me.


I dare say, if he had told me his doubts at the first I could have nipped them in the bud."

If he had told me his doubts at the start I could have nipped them in the bud.'


Mistaken as Margaret felt her father's conduct to have been, she could not bear to hear it blamed by her mother.


She knew that his very reserve had originated in a tenderness for her, which might be cowardly, but was not unfeeling.


"I almost hoped you might be glad to leave Helstone, mamma," said she, after a pause.

'I hoped you might have been glad to leave Helstone, mamma,' said she.


"You have never been well in this air, you know."

'You have never been well in this air, you know.'


"You can't think the smoky air of a manufacturing town, all chimneys and dirt like Milton-Northern, would be better than this air, which is pure and sweet, if it is too soft and relaxing.

'You can't think the smoky air of a manufacturing town, all chimneys and dirt, would be better than this air, which is pure and sweet, even if it is too soft.


Fancy living in the middle of factories, and factory people!


Though, of course, if your father leaves the Church, we shall not be admitted into society anywhere.

Though if your father leaves the Church, we shall not be admitted into society anywhere.


It is well he is not alive to see what your father has come to!


Every day after dinner, when I was a girl, living with your Aunt Shaw, at Beresford Court, Sir John used to give for the first toast--'Church and King, and down with the Rump.'"

Every day after dinner, when I was a girl at Beresford Court, Sir John used to give the first toast - "Church and King, and down with the Rump."'


Margaret was glad that her mother's thoughts were turned away from the fact of her husband's silence to her on the point which must have been so near his heart.

Margaret was glad that her mother's thoughts were turned away from the fact of her husband's silence.


Next to the serious vital anxiety as to the nature of her father's doubts, this was the one circumstance of the case that gave Margaret the most pain.


"You know, we have very little society here, mamma.

'You know, we have very little society here, mamma.


The Gormans, who are our nearest neighbours (to call society--and we hardly ever see them), have been in trade just as much as these Milton-Northern people."

The Gormans, who are our nearest neighbours, have been in trade just as much as these Milton-Northern people.'


"Yes," says Mrs. Hale, almost indignantly, "but at any rate, the Gormans made carriages for half the gentlemen of the county, and were brought into some kind of intercourse with them; but these factory people, who on earth wears cotton that can afford linen?"

'Yes,' said Mrs. Hale, almost indignantly, 'but the Gormans made carriages for half the gentry of the county; but these factory people - who on earth wears cotton that can afford linen?'


"Well, mamma, I give up the cotton-spinners; I am not standing up for them, any more than for any other trades-people.

'Well, mamma, I am not standing up for the cotton-spinners, any more than for any other trades-people.


Only we shall have little enough to do with them."

We shall have little enough to do with them.'


"Why on earth has your father fixed on Milton-Northern to live in?"

'Why on earth has your father fixed on Milton-Northern to live in?'


"Partly," said Margaret, sighing, "because it is so very different from Helstone--partly because Mr. Bell says there is an opening there for a private tutor."

'Partly,' said Margaret, sighing, 'because it is so very different from Helstone - partly because Mr. Bell says there is an opening there for a private tutor.'


Why can't he go to Oxford, and be a tutor to gentlemen?"

'Why can't he go to Oxford, and be a tutor to gentlemen?'


He is leaving the Church on account of his opinions--his doubts would do him no good at Oxford."

His doubts would do him no good at Oxford.'


Mrs. Hale was silent for some time, quietly crying.


"And the furniture--How in the world are we to manage the removal?

'And the furniture - how in the world are we to manage the removal?


I never removed in my life, and only a fortnight to think about it!"

We have only a fortnight to think about it!'


Margaret was inexpressibly relieved to find that her mother's anxiety and distress was lowered to this point, so insignificant to herself, and on which she could do so much to help.

Margaret was inexpressibly relieved to find that her mother's distress was lowered to this point, on which she could do so much to help.


She planned and promised, and led her mother on to arrange fully as much as could be fixed before they knew somewhat more definitely what Mr. Hale intended to do.

She promised to arrange as much as could be fixed before they knew more definitively what Mr. Hale intended to do.


Throughout the day Margaret never left her mother; bending her whole soul to sympathise in all the various turns her feelings took; towards evening especially, as she became more and more anxious that her father should find a soothing welcome home awaiting him, after his return from his day of fatigue and distress.

Throughout the day Margaret never left her mother; bending her whole soul to sympathise in all the various turns her feelings took. Towards evening, she became anxious that her father should find a soothing welcome awaiting him, after his day of fatigue and distress.


She dwelt upon what he must have borne in secret for long; her mother only replied coldly that he ought to have told her, and that then at any rate he would have had an adviser to give him counsel; and Margaret turned faint at heart when she heard her father's step in the hall.

She dwelt upon what he must have borne in secret for long; her mother only replied coldly that he ought to have told her; and Margaret turned faint at heart when she heard her father's step in the hall.


She dared not go to meet him, and tell him what she had done all day, for fear of her mother's jealous annoyance.

She dared not go to meet him, for fear of her mother's jealous annoyance.


She heard him linger, as if awaiting her, or some sign of her; and she dared not stir; she saw by her mother's twitching lips, and changing colour, that she too was aware that her husband had returned.

She heard him linger, as if awaiting her, and she dared not stir; she saw by her mother's twitching lips that she too was aware that her husband had returned.


Presently he opened the room-door, and stood there uncertain whether to come in.

Presently he opened the door, and stood there uncertain whether to come in.


His face was gray and pale; he had a timid fearful look in his eyes; something almost pitiful to see in a man's face; but that look of despondent uncertainty, of mental and bodily languor, touched his wife's heart.

His face was pale; his eyes were timid; but that look of despondent uncertainty touched his wife's heart.


She went to him, and threw herself on his breast, crying out:--

She went to him, and threw herself on his breast, crying out-


Richard, Richard, you should have told me sooner!"

Richard, Richard, you should have told me sooner!'


And then, in tears, Margaret left her, as she rushed up stairs to throw herself on her bed, and hide her face in the pillows to stifle the hysteric sobs that would force their way out at last, after the rigid self-control of the whole day.

And then Margaret left her, and rushed upstairs to throw herself on her bed, and hide her face in the pillows to stifle the hysteric sobs that would force their way out at last, after the rigid self-control of the day.


How long she lay thus she could not tell.


She heard no noise, though the housemaid came in to arrange the room.


The affrighted girl stole out again on tip-toe, and went and told Mrs. Dixon that Miss Hale was crying as if her heart would break: she was sure she would make herself deadly ill if she went on at that rate.

The affrighted girl stole out again on tip-toe, and told Mrs. Dixon that Miss Hale was crying as if her heart would break.


In consequence of this, Margaret felt herself touched, and started up into a sitting posture; she saw the accustomed room, the figure of Dixon in shadow, as the latter stood holding a candle a little behind her, for fear of the effect on Miss Hale's startled eyes, swollen and blinded as they were.

Margaret felt herself touched, and started up; she saw the figure of Dixon in shadow, holding the candle away from her eyes, swollen and blinded as they were.


said Margaret, resuming her trembling self-restraint.


continued she, lifting herself languidly off the bed, yet letting her feet touch the ground without fairly standing down, as she shaded her wet ruffled hair off her face, and tried to look as though nothing were the matter; as if she had been asleep.

She moved her wet ruffled hair off her face, and tried to look as though nothing were the matter; as if she had only been asleep.


"I can hardly tell what time it is," replied Dixon in an aggrieved tone of voice.

'I hardly can tell what time it is,' replied Dixon, in an aggrieved tone.


"Since your mamma told me this terrible news, when I dressed her for tea, I've lost all count of time.

'Since your mamma told me this terrible news, I've lost all count of time.


I'm sure I don't know what is to become of us all.


When Charlotte told me just now you were sobbing, Miss Hale, I thought, no wonder, poor thing!

When Charlotte told me you were sobbing, Miss Hale, I thought, no wonder, poor thing!


And master thinking of turning Dissenter at his time of life, when, if it is not to be said he's done well in the Church, he's not done badly after all.

And master turning Dissenter at his time of life!


I had a cousin, miss, who turned Methodist preacher after he was fifty years of age, and a tailor all his life; but then he had never been able to make a pair of trousers to fit, for as long as he had been in the trade, so it was no wonder; but for master!


as I said to missus, 'What would poor Sir John have said?

As I said to missus, "What would poor Sir John have said?


he never liked your marrying Mr. Hale, but if he could have known it would have come to this, he would have sworn worse oaths than ever, if that was possible!'"

He never liked your marrying Mr. Hale, but if he could have known it would come to this, he would have sworn worse oaths than ever!"'


Dixon had been so much accustomed to comment upon Mr. Hale's proceedings to her mistress (who listened to her, or not, as she was in the humour), that she never noticed Margaret's flashing eye and dilating nostril.

Dixon was so used to commenting upon Mr. Hale's proceedings to her mistress that she never noticed Margaret's flashing eye.


To hear her father talked of in this way by a servant to her face!

To hear her father talked of in this way by a servant!


"Dixon," she said, in the low tone she always used when much excited, which had a sound in it as of some distant turmoil, or threatening storm breaking far away.

'Dixon,' she said, in a low tone, which had a sound in it of some threatening storm.


She stood upright and firm on her feet now, confronting the waiting-maid, and fixing her with her steady discerning eye.

She stood upright and firm, fixing the maid with her steady eye.


You have made a strange mistake, and one that I am sure your own good feeling will make you sorry for when you think about it."

You have made a strange mistake, and one that I am sure you will be sorry for when you think about it.'


Dixon hung irresolutely about the room for a minute or two.

Dixon hung irresolutely about the room for a minute.


Margaret repeated, "You may leave me, Dixon.


Dixon did not know whether to resent these decided words or to cry; either course would have suited her mistress: but as she said to herself, "Miss Margaret has a touch of the old gentleman about her, as well as poor Master Frederick; I wonder where they get it from?"

Dixon did not know whether to resent these words or to cry; either course would have worked with her mistress: but, as she said to herself, 'Miss Margaret has a touch of the old gentleman about her, as well as poor Master Frederick.'


and she, who would have resented such words from any one less haughty and determined in manner, was subdued enough to say, in a half humble, half injured tone:

She was subdued enough to say, in a half humble, half injured tone:


"Mayn't I unfasten your gown, miss, and do your hair?"

'Mayn't I unfasten your gown, miss, and do your hair?'


And Margaret gravely lighted her out of the room, and bolted the door.

And Margaret gravely saw her out of the room.


From henceforth Dixon obeyed and admired Margaret.


She said it was because she was so like poor Master Frederick; but the truth was, that Dixon, as do many others, liked to feel herself ruled by a powerful and decided nature.

She said it was because she was so like poor Master Frederick; but the truth was, that Dixon liked to feel herself ruled by a powerful and decided nature.


Margaret needed all Dixon's help in action, and silence in words; for, for some time, the latter thought it her duty to show her sense of affront by saying as little as possible to her young lady; so the energy came out in doing rather than in speaking.


A fortnight was a very short time to make arrangements for so serious a removal; as Dixon said, "Anyone but a gentleman--indeed almost any other gentleman--" but catching a look at Margaret's straight, stern brow just here, she coughed the remainder of the sentence away, and meekly took the horehound drop that Margaret offered her, to stop the "little tickling at my chest, miss."

A fortnight was a very short time to make arrangements for their removal.


But almost any one but Mr. Hale would have had practical knowledge enough to see, that in so short a time it would be difficult to fix on any house in Milton-Northern, or indeed elsewhere, to which they could remove the furniture that had of necessity been taken out of Helstone Vicarage.

Almost anyone but Mr. Hale would have been practical enough to see that in so short a time it would be difficult to fix on any house in Milton-Northern to which they could move their furniture.


Mrs. Hale, overpowered by all the troubles and necessities for immediate household decisions that seemed to come upon her at once, became really ill, and Margaret almost felt it as a relief when her mother fairly took to her bed, and left the management of affairs to her.

Mrs. Hale, overpowered by her troubles, became really ill, and Margaret felt almost relieved when her mother took to her bed, and left the management of affairs to her.


Dixon, true to her post of body-guard, attended most faithfully to her mistress, and only emerged from Mrs. Hale's bedroom to shake her head, and murmur to herself in a manner which Margaret did not choose to hear.


For, the one thing clear and straight before her, was the necessity for leaving Helstone.

For the one thing clear was the necessity for leaving Helstone.


Mr. Hale's successor in the living was appointed; and, at any rate, after her father's decision, there must be no lingering now, for his sake, as well as from every other consideration.

Mr. Hale's successor was appointed; there must be no lingering.


For he came home every evening more and more depressed, after the necessary leave-taking which he had resolved to have with every individual parishioner.

Her father came home every evening more and more depressed, after the leave-taking which he had resolved to have with every parishioner.


Margaret, inexperienced as she was in all the necessary matter-of-fact business to be got through, did not know to whom to apply for advice.

Margaret did not know whom to ask for advice.


The cook and Charlotte worked away with willing arms and stout hearts at all the moving and packing; and as far as that went, Margaret's admirable sense enabled her to see what was best, and to direct how it should be done.

The cook and Charlotte worked willingly at all the moving and packing; and as far as that went, Margaret's sense enabled her to direct how it should be done.


So many arrangements depended on this precision that Margaret resolved to ask her father one evening, in spite of his evident fatigue and low spirits.


I have really had too much to think about to settle this.


He met with an echo even louder than his sigh.


Dixon had just come into the room for another cup of tea for Mrs. Hale, and catching Mr. Hale's last words, and protected by his presence from Margaret's upbraiding eyes, made bold to say, "My poor mistress!"

Dixon had just come into the room, and catching Mr. Hale's last words, made bold to say, 'My poor mistress!'


"You don't think her worse to-day," said Mr. Hale, turning hastily.

'You don't think her worse today?' said Mr. Hale.


The illness seems so much more on the mind than on the body."

The illness seems so much more on the mind than on the body.'


"You had better take mamma her tea while it is hot, Dixon," said Margaret, in a tone of quiet authority.

'You had better take mamma her tea while it is hot, Dixon,' said Margaret, in a tone of quiet authority.


My thoughts was otherwise occupied in thinking of my poor---- of Mrs. Hale."


said Margaret, "it is this suspense that is bad for you both.

said Margaret, 'it is this suspense that is bad for you both.


Of course, mamma must feel your change of opinions: we can't help that," she continued softly; "but now the course is clear, at least to a certain point.


And I think, papa, that I could get mamma to help me in planning, if you could tell me what to plan for.

I think that I could get mamma to help me in planning, if you could tell me what to plan for.


She has never expressed any wish in any way, and only thinks of what can't be helped.

She has never expressed any wish, and only thinks of what can't be helped.


"No," he replied, "I suppose we must go into lodgings, and look about for a house."

'No,' he replied. 'I suppose we must go into lodgings, and look about for a house.'


"And pack up the furniture so that it can be left at the railway station, till we have met with one?"

'And pack up the furniture so that it can be left at the railway station, till we have one?'


Only remember, we shall have much less money to spend."

Only remember, we shall have much less money to spend.'


They had never had much superfluity, as Margaret knew.

They had never had much, as Margaret knew.


She felt that it was a great weight suddenly thrown upon her shoulders.


Four months ago, all the decisions she needed to make were what dress she would wear for dinner, and to help Edith to draw out the lists of who should take down whom in the dinner parties at home.

Four months ago, all the decisions she needed to make were what dress to wear, and to help Edith draw up the lists of who should take who in to dinner.


Nor was the household in which she lived one that called for much decision.


Except in the one grand case of Captain Lennox's offer, everything went on with the regularity of clockwork.


Once a year, there was a long discussion between her aunt and Edith as to whether they should go to the Isle of Wight, abroad, or to Scotland; but at such times Margaret herself was secure of drifting, without any exertion of her own, into the quiet harbour of home.


Now, since that day when Mr. Lennox came, and startled her into a decision, every day brought some question, momentous to her, and to those whom she loved, to be settled.

Now every day brought some momentous question to be settled.


Her father went up after tea to sit with his wife.


Margaret remained alone in the drawing-room.


Suddenly she took a candle and went into her father's study for a great atlas, and lugging it back into the drawing-room, she began to pore over the map of England.


She was ready to look up brightly when her father came down stairs.

She looked up brightly when her father came downstairs.


Look here--in Darkshire, hardly the breadth of my finger from Milton, is Heston, which I have often heard of from people living in the north as such a pleasant little bathing-place.

Look here - in Darkshire, not far from Milton, is Heston, which I have heard is such a pleasant little bathing-place.


Now, don't you think we could get mamma there with Dixon, while you and I go and look at houses, and get one all ready for her in Milton?

Now, don't you think we could get mamma there with Dixon, while you and I go and look at houses, and get one ready for her in Milton?


She would get a breath of sea air to set her up for the winter, and be spared all the fatigue, and Dixon would enjoy taking care of her."

She would get a breath of sea air to set her up for the winter, and be spared all the fatigue, and Dixon would enjoy taking care of her.'


asked Mr. Hale, in a kind of helpless dismay.


"Dixon quite intends it, and I don't know what mamma would do without her."

'Dixon quite intends it, and I don't know what mamma would do without her.'


"But we shall have to put up with a very different way of living, I am afraid.

'But we shall have to put up with a very different way of living, I am afraid.


I doubt if Dixon can make herself comfortable.


To tell you the truth, Margaret, I sometimes feel as if that woman gave herself airs."

To tell you the truth, Margaret, I sometimes feel as if that woman gave herself airs.'


"To be sure she does, papa," replied Margaret; "and if she has to put up with a different style of living, we shall have to put up with her airs, which will be worse.

'To be sure she does, papa,' replied Margaret; 'and if she has to put up with a different style of living, we shall have to put up with her airs.


But she really loves us all, and would be miserable to leave us, I am sure--especially in this change; so, for mamma's sake, and for the sake of her faithfulness, I do think she must go."

But she really loves us all, and would be miserable to leave us; so, for mamma's sake, I do think she must go.'


The breadth of one of your fingers does not give me a very clear idea of distance."


"Well, then, I suppose it is thirty miles; that is not much!"


If you really think it will do your mother good, let it be fixed so."

'If you really think it will do your mother good, let it be fixed so.'


Now Margaret could work, and act, and plan in good earnest.

Now Margaret could plan in good earnest.


And now Mrs. Hale could rouse herself from her languor, and forget her real suffering in thinking of the pleasure and the delight of going to the sea-side.

And now Mrs. Hale could rouse herself from her languor, and forget her suffering in thinking of the pleasure of going to the sea-side.


Her only regret was that Mr. Hale could not be with her all the fortnight she was to be there, as he had been for a whole fortnight once, when they were engaged, and she was staying with Sir John and Lady Beresford at Torquay.

Her only regret was that Mr. Hale could not be with her all the fortnight she was to be there, as he had been once, when they were engaged, and she had been staying with Sir John and Lady Beresford at Torquay.


The evening was still and warm; close and sultry it even promised to become.

The evening was still and warm; it promised to become sultry.

Chapter 18: WHICH THE GENTEEL READER IS RECOMMENDED TO SKIP, LOW PERSONS BEING HERE INTRODUCED


Round the descending sun the clouds glowed purple; summer tints, rather Indian than English, suffused the horizon, and cast rosy reflections on hillside, house-front, tree-bole, on winding road and undulating pasture-ground.

Round the descending sun the clouds glowed purple; summer tints suffused the horizon, and cast rosy reflections on house and tree.


The two girls came down from the fields slowly.


By the time they reached the churchyard the bells were hushed; the multitudes were gathered into the church.


"And what a dreary long speech Dr. Boultby will make!


And how the curates will hammer over their prepared orations!


"But my uncle will be angry if he observes our absence."

"But my uncle will be angry if we are absent."


"I will bear the brunt of his wrath; he will not devour me.

"I can bear his wrath; he will not devour me.


I shall be sorry to miss his pungent speech.


I know it will be all sense for the church, and all causticity for schism.


He'll not forget the battle of Royd Lane.


I shall be sorry also to deprive you of Mr. Hall's sincere friendly homily, with all its racy Yorkshireisms; but here I must stay.

I shall be sorry also to deprive you of Mr. Hall's friendly homily; but here I must stay.


The gray church and grayer tombs look divine with this crimson gleam on them.


Nature is now at her evening prayers; she is kneeling before those red hills.


I see her prostrate on the great steps of her altar, praying for a fair night for mariners at sea, for travellers in deserts, for lambs on moors, and unfledged birds in woods.


Caroline, I see her, and I will tell you what she is like. She is like what Eve was when she and Adam stood alone on earth."

Caroline, she is like what Eve was when she and Adam stood alone on earth."


"And that is not Milton's Eve, Shirley."


No, by the pure Mother of God, she is not!


Cary, we are alone; we may speak what we think.


He saw Satan, and Sin his daughter, and Death their horrible offspring.


Angels serried before him their battalions; the long lines of adamantine shields flashed back on his blind eyeballs the unutterable splendour of heaven.


Devils gathered their legions in his sight; their dim, discrowned, and tarnished armies passed rank and file before him.


Milton tried to see the first woman; but, Cary, he saw her not."


It was his cook that he saw; or it was Mrs. Gill, as I have seen her, making custards, in the heat of summer, in the cool dairy, with rose-trees and nasturtiums about the latticed window, preparing a cold collation for the rectors--preserves and 'dulcet creams;' puzzled 'what choice to choose for delicacy best; what order so contrived as not to mix tastes, not well-joined, inelegant, but bring taste after taste, upheld with kindliest change.'"


"I would beg to remind him that the first men of the earth were Titans, and that Eve was their mother; from her sprang Saturn, Hyperion, Oceanus; she bore Prometheus----"

"I would remind him that the first men of the earth were Titans, and that Eve was their mother; from her sprang Saturn, Hyperion, Oceanus; she bore Prometheus-"


"I say, there were giants on the earth in those days--giants that strove to scale heaven. The first woman's breast that heaved with life on this world yielded the daring which could contend with Omnipotence, the strength which could bear a thousand years of bondage, the vitality which could feed that vulture death through uncounted ages, the unexhausted life and uncorrupted excellence, sisters to immortality, which, after millenniums of crimes, struggles, and woes, could conceive and bring forth a Messiah.

"I say, there were giants on the earth in those days - giants that strove to scale heaven, with the strength which could bear a thousand years of bondage, the vitality and uncorrupted excellence which, after millennia of struggles, could conceive and bring forth a Messiah.


Vast was the heart whence gushed the well-spring of the blood of nations, and grand the undegenerate head where rested the consort-crown of creation."

Vast was the heart whence came the blood of nations, and grand the head where rested the crown of creation."


"She coveted an apple, and was cheated by a snake; but you have got such a hash of Scripture and mythology into your head that there is no making any sense of you."


You have not yet told me what you saw kneeling on those hills."
"I saw--I now see--a woman-Titan.

"On those hills I see a woman-Titan," announced Shirley.


Her robe of blue air spreads to the outskirts of the heath, where yonder flock is grazing; a veil white as an avalanche sweeps from her head to her feet, and arabesques of lightning flame on its borders.

"Her robe of blue air spreads to the outskirts of the heath; a veil white as an avalanche sweeps from her head to her feet, and arabesques of lightning flame on its borders.


Under her breast I see her zone, purple like that horizon; through its blush shines the star of evening.


Her steady eyes I cannot picture. They are clear, they are deep as lakes, they are lifted and full of worship, they tremble with the softness of love and the lustre of prayer.

Her steady eyes are clear, as deep as lakes; they are lifted and full of worship, they tremble with the softness of love and prayer.


Her forehead has the expanse of a cloud, and is paler than the early moon, risen long before dark gathers.

Her forehead has the expanse of a cloud, and is paler than the moon.


She reclines her bosom on the ridge of Stilbro' Moor; her mighty hands are joined beneath it.


So kneeling, face to face she speaks with God.


That Eve is Jehovah's daughter, as Adam was His son."


Come, Shirley, we ought to go into church."


"Caroline, I will not; I will stay out here with my mother Eve, in these days called Nature.

"Caroline, I will not; I will stay out here with my mother Eve.


Heaven may have faded from her brow when she fell in paradise, but all that is glorious on earth shines there still.


She is taking me to her bosom, and showing me her heart.


You will see her and feel as I do, if we are both silent."


"I will humour your whim; but you will begin talking again ere ten minutes are over."

"I will humour your whim; but you will begin talking again within ten minutes."


Miss Keeldar, on whom the soft excitement of the warm summer evening seemed working with unwonted power, leaned against an upright headstone; she fixed her eyes on the deep-burning west, and sank into a pleasurable trance.

Miss Keeldar leaned against a headstone; she fixed her eyes on the deep-burning west, and sank into a pleasurable trance.


Caroline, going a little apart, paced to and fro beneath the rectory garden wall, dreaming too in her way.

Caroline paced to and fro beneath the rectory wall, dreaming too in her way.


Shirley had mentioned the word "mother."


That word suggested to Caroline's imagination not the mighty and mystical parent of Shirley's visions, but a gentle human form--the form she ascribed to her own mother, unknown, unloved, but not unlonged for.

That word suggested to Caroline's imagination not the mighty and mystical parent of Shirley's visions, but a gentle human form - her own mother, unknown, unloved, but longed for.


"Oh that the day would come when she would remember her child!

"Oh, that the day would come when she would remember her child!


Oh that I might know her, and knowing, love her!"

Oh that I might know her, and love her!"


The longing of her childhood filled her soul again.


The desire which many a night had kept her awake in her crib, and which fear of its fallacy had of late years almost extinguished, relit suddenly, and glowed warm in her heart, that her mother might come some happy day, and send for her to her presence, look upon her fondly with loving eyes, and say to her tenderly, in a sweet voice, "Caroline, my child, I have a home for you; you shall live with me.

The desire which many a night had kept her awake in her crib, relit suddenly, and glowed in her heart: that her mother might come some happy day, and look upon her with loving eyes, and say to her tenderly, "Caroline, my child, I have a home for you.


All the love you have needed, and not tasted, from infancy, I have saved for you carefully.


A noise on the road roused Caroline from her filial hopes, and Shirley from her Titan visions.

A noise on the road roused Caroline and Shirley from their visions.


They listened, and heard the tramp of horses. They looked, and saw a glitter through the trees. They caught through the foliage glimpses of martial scarlet; helm shone, plume waved.

They heard the tramp of horses, and saw a glitter through the trees, glimpses of martial scarlet.


Silent and orderly, six soldiers rode softly by.

Silent and orderly, six soldiers rode by.


"The same we saw this afternoon," whispered Shirley.


"They have been halting somewhere till now.


They wish to be as little noticed as possible, and are seeking their rendezvous at this quiet hour, while the people are at church.

"They wish to be as little noticed as possible, and are moving while the people are at church."


Did I not say we should see unusual things ere long?"


Scarcely were sight and sound of the soldiers lost, when another and somewhat different disturbance broke the night-hush--a child's impatient scream.

Scarcely were the soldiers out of sight, when a different disturbance broke the night-hush - a child's impatient scream.


A man issued from the church, carrying in his arms an infant--a robust, ruddy little boy of some two years old--roaring with all the power of his lungs. He had probably just awaked from a church-sleep.

A man came out of the church, carrying in his arms a robust little boy of some two years old - roaring with all the power of his lungs; he had probably just awoken.


Two little girls, of nine and ten, followed.


The influence of the fresh air, and the attraction of some flowers gathered from a grave, soon quieted the child.


The man sat down with him, dandling him on his knee as tenderly as any woman; the two little girls took their places one on each side.

The man sat down, dandling him tenderly on his knee; the little girls sat on either side.


"Good-evening, William," said Shirley, after due scrutiny of the man.


He had seen her before, and apparently was waiting to be recognized.


He now took off his hat, and grinned a smile of pleasure.

He took off his hat, and grinned in pleasure.


He was a rough-headed, hard-featured personage, not old, but very weather-beaten.


His attire was decent and clean; that of his children singularly neat.


he inquired, gazing at them complacently, yet with a mixture of bashfulness in his look--a sentiment not by any means the result of awe of their station, but only of appreciation of their elegance and youth.


Before gentlemen--such as Moore or Helstone, for instance--William was often a little dogged; with proud or insolent ladies, too, he was quite unmanageable, sometimes very resentful; but he was most sensible of, most tractable to, good-humour and civility.

Before gentlemen, William was often dogged; with proud or insolent ladies, he was quite unmanageable, sometimes very resentful; but he responded to good-humour and civility.


His nature--a stubborn one--was repelled by inflexibility in other natures; for which reason he had never been able to like his former master, Moore; and unconscious of that gentleman's good opinion of himself, and of the service he had secretly rendered him in recommending him as gardener to Mr. Yorke, and by this means to other families in the neighbourhood, he continued to harbour a grudge against his austerity.

His stubborn nature was repelled by inflexibility in other natures; so he had never liked his former master, Moore. Unaware that Moore had recommended him as gardener to Mr. Yorke, he continued to harbour a grudge against him.


Latterly he had often worked at Fieldhead.


Miss Keeldar's frank, hospitable manners were perfectly charming to him.

Miss Keeldar's frank manners charmed him.


Caroline he had known from her childhood; unconsciously she was his ideal of a lady.


Her gentle mien, step, gestures, her grace of person and attire, moved some artist-fibres about his peasant heart.

Her gentle manner and grace moved his heart.


He had a pleasure in looking at her, as he had in examining rare flowers or in seeing pleasant landscapes.


Both the ladies liked William; it was their delight to lend him books, to give him plants; and they preferred his conversation far before that of many coarse, hard, pretentious people immeasurably higher in station.

Both the ladies liked William; they delighted to lend him books and give him plants, and they preferred his conversation over that of many coarse, pretentious people much higher in station.


"Who was speaking, William, when you came out?"


"A gentleman ye set a deal of store on, Miss Shirley--Mr. Donne."

"A gentleman ye set much store on, Miss Shirley - Mr. Donne.


How did you find out my regard for Mr. Donne?"


"Ay, Miss Shirley, there's a gleg light i' your een sometimes which betrays you.


You look raight down scornful sometimes when Mr. Donne is by."

You look raight down scornful when Mr. Donne is by."


I'm stalled o' t' curates, and so is t' wife.


They talk to poor folk fair as if they thought they were beneath them.

They talk to poor folk as if they thought they were beneath them.


It is a pity but their office could magnify them; but it does nought o' t' soart.


"But you are proud in your own way yourself," interposed Caroline.


"You are what you call house-proud: you like to have everything handsome about you.

"You are house-proud: you like to have everything handsome about you.


Sometimes you look as if you were almost too proud to take your wages.


When you were out of work, you were too proud to get anything on credit.


But for your children, I believe you would rather have starved than gone to the shops without money; and when I wanted to give you something, what a difficulty I had in making you take it!"

When I wanted to give you something, what a difficulty I had in making you take it!"


Ony day I'd rather give than take, especially from sich as ye.


Ye're a little, young, slender lass, and I'm a great strong man; I'm rather more nor twice your age.

Ye're a little, slender lass, and I'm a great strong man, more than twice your age.


It is not _my_ part, then, I think, to tak fro' _ye_--to be under obligations (as they say) to _ye_.


And that day ye came to our house, and called me to t' door, and offered me five shillings, which I doubt ye could ill spare--for ye've no fortin', I know--that day I war fair a rebel, a radical, an insurrectionist; and _ye_ made me so.

And that day ye came to our house, and offered me five shillings, which I doubt ye could spare - that day I war a rebel.


I thought it shameful that, willing and able as I was to work, I suld be i' such a condition that a young cratur about the age o' my own eldest lass suld think it needful to come and offer me her bit o' brass."

I war ashamed to be i' such a condition that a young cratur the age o' my own eldest lass should think it needful to offer me her bit o' brass."


"I suppose you were angry with me, William?"


Ay, _I am_ proud, and so are _ye_; but your pride and mine is t' raight mak--what we call i' Yorkshire clean pride--such as Mr. Malone and Mr. Donne knows nought about.

Ay, I am proud, and so are ye; but your pride and mine is clean pride - such as Mr. Malone and Mr. Donne knows nought about.


Now, I shall teach my lasses to be as proud as Miss Shirley there, and my lads to be as proud as myseln; but I dare ony o' 'em to be like t' curates.


I'd lick little Michael if I seed him show any signs o' that feeling."


"Ye know t' difference weel enow, but ye want me to get a gate o' talking.