 CHAPTER 33. PEACE. Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed, never to be disquieted. My last good night, thou wilt not wake till I thy fate shall overtake. Dr. King. Home seemed unnaturally quiet after all this terror and noisy commotion. Her father had seen all due preparation made for her refreshment on her return, and then sat down again in his accustomed chair to fall into one of his sad, waking dreams. Dixon had gotten Mary Higgins to scold and direct in the kitchen, and her scolding was not the less energetic because it was delivered in an angry whisper. For, speaking above her breath, she would have thought irreverent, as long as there was any one dead lying in the house. Margaret had resolved not to mention the crowning and closing of fright to her father. There was no use in speaking about it. It had ended well. The only thing to be feared was lest Leonard should, in some way, borrow money enough to effect his purpose of following Frederick to London, and hunting him out there. But there were immense chances against the success of any such plan, and Margaret determined not to torment herself by thinking of what she could do nothing to prevent. Frederick would be as much on his guard as she could put him, and at a day or two at most he would be safely out of England. I suppose we shall hear from Mr. Bell to-morrow, said Margaret. Yes, replied her father. I suppose so. If he can come, he will be here to-morrow evening, I should think. If he cannot come, I shall ask Mr. Thornton to go with me to the funeral. I cannot go alone. I should break down utterly. Don't ask Mr. Thornton, Papa, let me go with you, said Margaret, impetuously. You? My dear women do not generally go. No, because they can't control themselves. Women of our class don't go, because they have no power over their emotions, and yet are ashamed of showing them. Poor women go, and don't care if they are seen overwhelmed with grief. But I promise you, Papa, that if you will let me go, I will be in no trouble. Don't have a stranger and leave me out. Dear Papa, if Mr. Bell cannot come, I shall go. I won't urge my wish against your will if he does. Mr. Bell could not come. He had the gout. It was a most affectionate letter, and expressed great and true regret for his inability to attend. He hoped to come and pay them a visit soon, if they would have him. His Milton property required some looking after, and his agent had written to him to say that his presence was absolutely necessary, or else he had avoided coming near Milton, as long as he could. And now the only thing that would reconcile him to this necessary visit was the idea that he should see, and might possibly be able to comfort his old friend. Margaret had all the difficulty in the world to persuade her father not to invite Mr. Thornton. She had an indescribable repugnance to this step being taken. The night before the funeral came a stately note from Mrs. Thornton to Miss Hale, saying that, at her son's desire, their carriage should attend the funeral, if it would not be disagreeable to the family. Margaret tossed the note to her father. Oh, don't let us have these forms, said she. Let us go alone, you and me, papa. They don't care for us, or else you will have offered to go himself, and not propose this sending an empty carriage. I thought you were so extremely averse to his going, Margaret, said Mr. Hale, in some surprise. And so I am. I don't want him to come at all, and I should especially dislike the idea of our asking him, but this seems such a mockery of mourning that I did not expect it from him. She startled her father by bursting into tears. She had been so subdued in her grief, so thoughtful for others, so gentle and patient in all things, that he could not understand her impatient ways tonight. She seemed agitated and restless, and at all the tenderness which her father in his turn had lavished upon her, she only cried them all. She passed so bad a night that she was ill-prepared for the additional anxiety caused by a letter received from Frederick. Mr. Lennox was out of town. His clerk said that he would return by the following Tuesday at the latest—that he might possibly be at home on Monday. Consequently, after some consideration, Frederick had determined upon remaining in London a day or two longer. He had thought of coming down to Milton again. The temptation had been very strong, but the idea of Mr. Bell domesticated in his father's house, and the alarm he had received at the last moment at the railway station, had made him resolve to stay in London. Margaret might be assured he would take every precaution against being tracked by Lennox. Margaret was thankful that she received this letter while her father was absent in her mother's room. If he had been present, he would have expected her to read it aloud to him, and it would have raised in him a state of nervous alarm, which she would have found it impossible to see the way. There was not merely the fact, which disturbed her excessively, of Frederick's detention in London, but there were illusions to the recognition at the last moment at Milton, and the possibility of a pursuit which made her blood run cold, and how then would have affected her father. Many a time did Margaret repent of having suggested, and urged on the plan of consulting Mr. Lennox. At the moment, it had seemed as if it would occasion so little delay, add so little to the apparently small chances of detection, and yet everything that had since occurred had tended to make it so undesirable. Margaret battled hard against this regret of hers for what could not now be helped. This self-reproach for having said what had at the time appeared to be wise, but which after events were proving to have been so foolish. But her father was in too depressed a state of mind and body to struggle healthily. He would succumb to all these causes for morbid regret over what could not be recalled. Margaret summoned up all her forces to her aid. Her father seemed to have forgotten that they had any reason to expect a letter from Frederick that morning. He was absorbed in one idea, that the last visible token of the presence of his wife was to be carried away from him, and hidden from his sight. He trembled pitifully as the undertaker's man was arranging his crepe draperies around him. He looked wistfully at Margaret, and, when released, he tottered towards her, murmuring, Pray for me, Margaret. I have no strength left in me. I cannot pray. I give her up because I must. I try to bear it. Indeed I do. I know it is God's will. But I cannot see why she died. Pray for me, Margaret, that I may have faith to pray. It is a great straight to my child. Margaret sat by him in the coach, almost supporting him in her arms, and repeating all the noble verses of holy comfort, or text expressive of faithful resignation, that she could remember. Her voice never faltered, and she herself gained strength by doing this. Her father's lips moved after her, repeating the well-known texts as her words suggested them. It was terrible to see the patient struggling effort to obtain the resignation, which he had not the strength to take into his heart as a part of himself. Margaret's fortitude nearly gave way as Dixon, with a slight motion of her hand, directed her notice to Nicholas Higgins and his daughter, standing a little aloof, but deeply attentive to the ceremonial. Nicholas wore his usual Faustian clothes, but had a bit of black stuff sewn around his hat, a mark of mourning which he had never shown to his daughter Bessie's memory. But Mr. Hale saw nothing. He went on repeating to himself, mechanically as it were, all the funeral service as it was read by the officiating clergyman. He sighed twice or thrice when all was ended, and then, putting his hand on Margaret's arm, he mutely entreated to be led away, as if he were blind, and she his faithful guide. Dixon sobbed aloud. She covered her face with her handkerchief, and was so absorbed in her own grief that she did not perceive that the crowd, attracted on such occasions, was dispersing till she was spoken to by someone close at hand. It was Mr. Thornton. He had been present all the time, standing with bent head, behind a group of people, so that, in fact, no one had recognised him. I beg your pardon, but can you tell me how Mr. Hale is, and Miss Hale too? I should like to know how they both are. Of course, sir, they are much as is to be expected. Master is terribly broke down. Miss Hale bears up better than likely. Mr. Thornton would rather have heard that she was suffering than actual sorrow. In the first place, there was selfishness enough in him to have taken pleasure in the idea that his great love might come into comfort and console her. Much the same kind of strange, passionate pleasure which comes stinging through a mother's heart, when her drooping infant nestles close to her, and is dependent upon her, for everything. But this delicious vision of what might have been, in which, in spite of all Margaret's repulse he would have indulged only a few days ago, was miserably disturbed by the recollection of what he had seen near the outward station. Miserably disturbed, that is not strong enough, he was haunted by the remembrance of the handsome young man with whom she stood in an attitude of such familiar confidence, and the remembrance shot through him like an agony till it made him clench his hands tight in order to subdue the pain, at that late hour so far from home. It took a great moral effort to galvanise his trust, ere while so perfect, in Margaret's pure and exquisite maidenliness into life. As soon as the effort ceased, his trust dropped down dead and powerless, and all sorts of wild fancies chased each other like dreams through his mind. Here was a little piece of miserable, annoying confirmation. She bore up better than likely under this grief. She had then some hope to look to, so bright that even in her affectionate nature it could come in to lighten the dark hours of a daughter newly made motherless. Yes, he knew how she would love. He had not loved her without gaining that instinctive knowledge of what capabilities were in her. Her soul would walk in glorious sunlight if any man was worthy by his power of loving to win back her love. Even in her mourning, she would rest with a peaceful faith upon his sympathy. His sympathy? Whose? That other man's, and that it was another man was enough to make Mr. Thornton's pale, grave face grow doubly worn and stern at Dixon's answer. I suppose I may call, said he coldly, on Mr. Hale, I mean. He will perhaps admit me after to-morrow or so. He spoke as if the answer were a matter of indifference to him, but it was not so. For all his pain, he longed to see the author of it. Although he hated Margaret at times, when he thought of that gentle, familiar attitude and all the attendant circumstances, he had a restless desire to renew her picture in his mind, a longing for the very atmosphere she breathed. He was in the corruptus of passion, and must perforce circle and circle ever nearer round the fatal centre. I dare say Sir Ambassador will see you. He was very sorry to have to deny you the other day, but circumstances was not agreeable just then. For some reason or other Dixon never named this interview that she had had with Mr. Thornton to Margaret. It might have been me a chance, but so it was that Margaret never heard that he had attended her poor mother's funeral. CHAPTER 33 Truth will fail thee never, never. Though thy bark be tempest driven, though each plank be rent and driven, truth will bear thee on forever. ANONIMOUS That she had no longer a mother. About Frederick II there was great uneasiness. The Sunday Post intervened and interfered with the London letters, and on Tuesday Margaret was surprised and disheartened to find that there was still no letter. She was quite in the dark as to his plans, and her father was miserable at all this uncertainty. It broke in upon his lately acquired habit of sitting still in one easy chair for half a day together. He kept pacing up and down the room, then out of it, and she heard him upon the landing, opening and shutting the bedroom doors without any apparent object. She tried to tranquilize him by reading aloud, but it was evident he could not listen for long together. How thankful she was then that she had kept to herself the additional cause for anxiety produced by the encounter with Lennards. She was thankful to hear Mr. Thornton announced. His visit would force her father's thoughts into another channel. He came up straight to her father, whose hands he took and wrung without a word, holding them in his for a minute or two during which time his face, his eyes, his look told of more sympathy than could be put into words. Then he turned to Margaret. Not better than likely did she look. Her stately beauty was dimmed with much watching and with many tears. The expression on her countenance was of gentle patient sadness, nay, of positive present suffering. He had not meant to greet her otherwise when with his late studied coldness of demeanor, but he could not help going up to her as she stood a little aside, timid by the uncertainty of his manner of late and saying the few necessary commonplace words in so tender a voice that her eyes filled with tears and she turned away to hide her emotion. She took her work and sat down very quiet and silent. Mr. Thornton's heart beat quick and strong and for the time he utterly forgot the outward lane. He tried to talk to Mr. Hale and his presence always a certain kind of pleasure to Mr. Hale as his power and decision made him and his opinions a safe, sure part was unusually agreeable to her father as Margaret saw. Presently Dixon came to the door and said, Miss Hale, you're wanted. Dixon's manner was so flourished that Margaret turned sick at heart. Something had happened to Fred. She had no doubt of that. It was well that her father and Mr. Thornton were so much occupied by their conversation. What is it, Dixon? asked Margaret the moment she had shut the drawing room door. Come this way, Miss, said Dixon, opening the door of what had been Mrs. Hale's bedchamber, now Margaret's for her father refused to sleep there again after his wife's death. It's nothing, Miss, said Dixon, choking a little. Only a police inspector. He wants to see you, Miss, but I dare say it's about nothing at all. Did he name, asked Margaret almost inaudibly. No, Miss, he named nothing. He only asked if you lived here and if he could speak to you. Mother went to the door and let him in. She has shown him into Master's study. I went to him myself to try if that would do, but no, it's you, Miss, he wants. Margaret did not speak again till her hand was on the lock of the study door. Here she turned round and said, Take care, Papa does not come down. Mr. Thornton is with him now. The inspector was almost daunted by the hottiness of her manner as she entered. There was something of indignation expressed in her countenance, but so kept down and controlled that it gave her a superb air of disdain. There was no surprise, no curiosity. She stood awaiting the opening of his business there. Not a question, did she ask. I beg your pardon, ma'am, but my duty obliges me to ask you of you plain questions. A man has died at the infirmary in consequence of a fall received at outward station between the hours of five and six on Thursday evening, the twenty-sixth instant. At the time this fall did not seem of much consequence, but it was rendered fatal, the doctors say, by the presence of some internal complaint at the man's own habit of drinking. The large dark eyes gazing straight into the inspector's face dilated a little. Otherwise there was no motion perceptible to his experienced observation. Her lips swelled out into a richer curve than ordinary owing to the enforced tensions of the muscles, but he did not know what was the usual appearance so as to recognize the unwanted silent defiance of the firm's sweeping lines. She never blenched or trembled. She fixed him with her eye. Now, as he paused before going on, she said almost as if she would encourage him in telling his tale. Well, gone! It is supposed that an inquest will have to be held. There is some slight evidence to prove that the blow, or push, or scuffle that caused the fall was provoked by this poor fellow's half-tipsy impertinence to a young lady, walking with the man who pushed the deceased over the edge of the platform. This much was observed by someone on the platform who, however, thought no more about the matter as the blow seemed of slight consequence. There is also some reason to identify the lady with yourself in which case. I was not there, said Margaret, still keeping her expressionless eyes fixed on his face with the unconscious look of a sleepwalker. The inspector bowed but did not speak. The lady standing before him showed no emotion, no fluttering fear, no anxiety, no desire to end the interview. The information he had received was very vague. One of the porters rushing out to bin readiness for the train had seen a scuffle at the other end of the platform between Lennards and a gentleman accompanied by a lady but heard no noise. And before the train had got to its full speed after starting, he had been almost knocked down by the headlong run of the enraged, half-intoxicated Lennards, swearing and cursing awfully. He had not thought any more about it till his evidence was rooted out by the inspector, who, on making some further inquiry at the railroad station, had heard from the stationmaster that a young lady and gentleman had been there about that hour. The lady remarkably handsome and said by some grossest assistance present at the time to be a miss Hale, living at Crempton, whose family dealt at his shop. There was no certainty that the one lady and gentleman were identical with the other pair, but there was great probability. Lennards himself had gone half-made with rage and pain to the nearest gin palace for comfort, and his tipsy words had not been attended to by the busy waiters there. They, however, remembered his starting up and cursing himself for not having sooner thought of the electric telegraph for some purpose unknown, and they believed that he left with the idea of going there. On his way, overcome by pain or drink, he had lain down in the road where the police had found him and taken him to the infirmary. There he had never recovered sufficient consciousness to give any distinct account of his fall, although once or twice he had had glimmerings of sense sufficient to make the authorities sent for the nearest magistrate, in hopes that he might be able to take down the dying man's deposition of the cause of his death. But when the magistrate had come, he was rambling about being at sea and mixing up names of captains and lieutenants in an indistinct manner with those of his fellow porters at the railway, and his last words were a curse on the cornish trick which had, he said, made him a hundred pounds poorer than he ought to have been. The inspector went all this over in his mind, the wakeness of the evidence to prove that Margaret had been at the station. The unflinching, calm denial which she gave to such a supposition. She stood awaiting his next word with a composure that appeared supreme. Then, madam, I have your denial that you were the lady accompanying the gentleman who struck the blow or gave the push which caused the death of this poor man. A quick, sharp pain went through Margaret's brain. Oh, God, that I knew Frederick was safe. The deep observer of human countenances might have seen the momentary agony shoot out of her great gloomy eyes, like the torture of some creature brought to bay. But the inspector, though very keen, was not a very deep observer. He was a little struck, notwithstanding, by the form of the answer, which sounded like a mechanical repetition of her first reply, not changed and modified in shape so as to meet his last question. I was not there, said she, slowly and heavily. And all this time she never closed her eyes or ceased from that glassy dreamlike stare. His quick suspicions were aroused by this dull echo of her former denial. It was as if she had forced herself to one untruth and had been stunned out of all power of varying it. He put up his book of notes in a very deliberate manner. Then he looked up. She had not moved any more than if she had been some great Egyptian statue. I hope you will not think me impertinent when I say that I may have to call on you again. I may have to summon you to appear on the inquest and proof an alibi, if my witnesses. It was but one who had recognized her. Persist in deposing to your presence at the unfortunate event. He looked at her sharply. She was still perfectly quiet. No change of color or darker shadow of guilt on her proud face. He thought to have seen her wins. He did not know Margaret Hale. He was a little abashed by her regal composure. It must have been a mistake of identity. He went on. It is very unlikely, ma'am, that I shall have to do anything of the kind. I hope you will excuse me for doing what is only my duty, although it may appear impertinent. Margaret bowed her head as he went towards the door. Her lips were stiff and dry. She could not speak even the common words of farewell. But suddenly she walked forwards and opened the study door and proceeded him to the door of the house which she threw right open for his exit. She kept her eyes upon him in the same dull, fixed manner until he was fairly out of the house. She shut the door and went halfway into the study. Then turned back as if moved by some passionate impulse and locked the door inside. Then she went into the study, paused, tottered forward, paused again, swayed for an instant where she stood and fell prone on the floor in a dead swan. End of chapter 34 There is no supine least one, but it connects to the sun. Mr. Thornton sat on the lawn. He felt that his company gave pleasure to Mr. Hale and was touched by the half-spoken, dishful entity that he would remain a little longer. The plaintive's own Goya, which his poor friend, would boast from time to time. He wondered Margaret did not return, but it was with no view of seeing her that he lingered. For the hour and in the presence of one who was so terribly feeling the nothingness of earth, he was reasonable and self-controlled. He was deeply interested in all her father said of death and of the heavy lung and of the brain that has grown down. It was curious how the presence of Mr. Thornton had power over Mr. Hale to make him all of the secret thoughts which he kept shut up even from Margaret. Whether it was that her sympathy would be so keen and show itself in solely via manner that he was afraid of the reaction upon himself or whether it was that to his speculative mind all kinds of doubts presented themselves at such a time, leading and crying aloud to be resolved into certain tears, and that he knew she would have shrunk from the expression of any such doubt, nay, from him himself as capable of concealing them. Whatever was the reason, he could unburden himself better to Mr. Thornton than to her of all the thoughts and fancies and fears that had been cross bound in his brain till now. Mr. Thornton said very little, but every sentence he uttered to Mr. Hale's reliance and regard for him. Was it that he posed in the expression of some remembered agony? Mr. Thornton's two or three words would complete the sentence and show how deeply its meaning was entered into. Was it a doubt, a fear, a wandering uncertainty seeking respect but finding man so tear-blind or in that worried eyes? Mr. Thornton, instead of being short, seemed to have fast-screwed at various stages of thought himself and could suggest where the exact ray of light was to be found, which would make the dark places clean. Man of action as he was, busy in the world's great battle, there was a deeper religion binding him to get in his heart in spite of his strong billfulness through all his mistakes that Mr. Hale had ever grinned. They never spoke of such things again as it happened, but this one conversation made them peculiar people to each other, kneed them together in a way which no losing discriminate talking about sacred things can ever accomplish. When all are admitted, how can there be a holy of homies? And all this while Margaret Leia still had white as death on the study floor. She had sunk under her burden. It had been heavy in weight and long carried. And she had been very weak and patient till all at once her faith had given weight and she had groat in vain for help. There was a pitiful contraction of suffering upon her beautiful girls, although there was no other sign of consciousness remaining. The mouth, a little while ago, so solemnly projected in defiance, was relaxed and lifted. E parche della sua labia si nuva, uno spirito suave e pien d'amore, chi va dicendo allanima, sospira. The first symptom of returning life was a quivering about lips, a little mute, soundless attempt at speech, but the eyes were still closed and the quivering sank into stillness. Then, feebly leaning on her arms for an instant to study herself, Margaret gathered herself up and rose. Her comb had fallen out of her hair, and with an intuitive desire to repace the traces of weakness and bring herself into order again, she sowed for it. Although from time to time in the course of the search, she had to sit down and recover strength. Her head drooped forward, her hands meekly laid one upon the other. She tried to recall the force of her temptation, but endeavored to remember the details which had thrown her into stashed every crime. But she could not. She only understood two facts, that Frederick had been in danger of being pursued and detected in London, as not only guilty of manslaughter, but as the more unpardonable leader of the mutiny, and that she had to hide to save him. There was one comfort. Her life had saved him, if only by gaining some additional time. If the inspector came again tomorrow, after she had received the letter she longed for to assure her of her brother's safety, she would break shame, and stand in her bitter penance, she either loved Margaret, or knowledging before a crowded justice room if need were, that she had been as a dog and done this thing. But if he came before she heard from Frederick, if he returned as he had half threatened in a few hours, why, she would tell that lie again. Though how the words would come out after all this terrible pause for reflection and self-approach without betraying her falsehood, she did not know. She could not tell. But her repetition of it would gain time. Time for Frederick. She was rose by Dixon's entrance into the room. She had just been letting out Mr. Thornton. He had hardly gone ten steps in the street before a passing-only booth stopped close by him, and the van got down and came up to him, touching his head as he did so. It was the police inspector. Mr. Thornton had obtained for him his first situation in the police and had heard from time to time of the progress of his protégé, but they had not open met, and at first Mr. Thornton did not remember him. My name is Watson, George Watson, sir, that you got. Ah, yes, I recollect. Why you are getting on famously, I hear. Yes, sir, I ought to thank you, sir. But it is on a little matter of business I made so bold as to speak to you now. I believe you were the magistrate who attended to take down the deposition of the poor man who died in the infirmary last night. Yes, replied Mr. Thornton. I went and heard some kind of rambling statement, which the clerk said was of no great use. I am afraid he was but a drunken fellow, though there is no doubt he came to his death by violence at last. One of my mother's servants was engaged to him, I believe, and she is in great distress today. What about him? Why, sir, his death is oddly mixed up in the house I saw you coming out of just now. It was a Mr. Hale's, I believe. Yes, said Mr. Thornton, turning sharp round and looking into the inspector's face with sudden distress. What about it? Why, sir, it seems to me that I've got a pretty distinct chain of evidence incorporating a gentleman who was walking with Miss Hale that night at the outlet station as the man whose truck or push loaner is of the platform and so cost his death. But the young lady denied that she was there at the time. Miss Hale denied she was there, repeated Mr. Thornton in an altered voice. Tell me, what evening was it? What time? About six o'clock, on the evening of Thursday, the twenty-sixth. They walked on, side by side, in silence for a minute or two. The inspector was the first to speak. You see, sir, there is like to be a coronary's inquest, and I've got a young man who is pretty positive. At least he was at first, since he has heard of the young lady's denial. He says he should not like to swear, but still he's pretty positive that he's so Miss Hale is a man walking about with the gentleman. Not five minutes before the time when one of the porters saw a couple which sat down to some of Leonard's incidences but which led to the poll which cost his death. And, Sieg, you come out of the very house, sir. I thought I might make bold to ask you. You see, it's always awkward having to do with cases of disputed identity and one doesn't like to doubt the word of a respectable young woman unless one has strong proof to the contrary. And she denied having been at the station that she was the man whose truck or push loaner and she denied having been at the station that evening, repeated Mr. Thornton in a low, prudent tone. Yes, sir, twice over, as the instinctive as could be. I told her I should call again, but seeing you just as I was on my way back from questioning the young man who said it was her, I thought I would ask your advice. Both at the magistrate who saw Leonard's on his deathbed, and as the gentleman who got me my birthed in the force. You were quite right, said Mr. Thornton. Don't take any steps till you have seen me again. The young lady will expect me to call from what I said. I only want to delay you an hour. It's not free. Come to my warehouse at work. Very well, sir. And they parted company. Mr. Thornton hurried to his warehouse and sternly forbidding his clerks to allow anyone to interrupt him. He went his way to his own private room and locked the door. Then he indulged himself in the torture of thinking it all over and realizing every detail. How could he have locked himself into the unsuspicious calm in which her tearful image had mirrored itself not two hours before till he had weak-repeated her and yearned towards her and forgotten the savage, distrustful jealousy with which the sight of her and the time known to him at such an hour at such a place had inspired him? How could one so pure have stooped from her decorous and noble manner of bearing? But was it decorous, was it? He hated himself for the idea and poured itself upon him just for an instant. No more. And yet, while it was present, thrilled him with its old potential for attraction towards her image. And then this falsehood. How terrible must be some dread of shame to be revealed for, after all, the provocation given by such a man as Leonet was then excited by drinking might in all probability be more than enough to justify anyone who came forward to stay the circumstances openly with her. How creeping and deadly that fear which could bow down the truthful Margaret to falsehood he could almost pity her. What would be the end of it? She could not have considered all she was entering upon if there was an inquest and a young man came forward. Suddenly he started up. There should be no inquest. He would save Margaret. He would take the responsibility of preventing the inquest, the issue of which from the uncertainty of the medical testimony which he had greatly heard the night before from the surgeon in attendance could be but doubtful. The doctors had discovered an internal disease or advance and shared a proof at all. They had stated that death might have been accelerated by the fall or by the subsequent drinking and exposure to cold. If he had but known how Margaret would have become involved in the affair, if he had but foreseen that she would have stained her whiteness by a falsehood he could have saved her by a word or a question of inquest or no inquest had hung trembling in the balance only the night before. Miss Hale might love another. It was indifferent and contemptuous to him but he would yet do her faithful acts of service of which she should never know. He might despise her but the woman whom he had once loved should be kept from shame and shame it would be to pledge herself to ally in a public court or otherwise to stand and acknowledge her reason for the design darkness redder than light. Very brave and stern did Mr. Thornton look as he passed out through his wandering clerks. He was about half an hour and scarcely less stern did he look when he returned although his errand had been successful. He wrote two lines on a slip of paper put it in an envelope and sealed it up. This he gave to one of the clerks saying I appointed Watson he who was a pecker in the warehouse and who went into the police to call on me at four o'clock. I have just met with her gentleman from Liverpool who wishes to see me before he leaves town. Take care to give this note to Watson when he calls. The note contained these words. There will be no inquest. Medical evidence not sufficient to justify it. Take no further steps. I have not seen the coroner but I will take the responsibility. Well, though to Watson it relieved me from an awkward job. None of my witnesses seem certain of anything except the young woman. She was clear and distinct enough the porter at the railroad had seen a scuffle or when he found it was likely to bring him in as a witness then it might not have been a scuffle only a little locking and Leonards might have jumped off the platform himself. He would not have stick-firmed to anything and Jennings the grocer shopman well he was not quite so bad but I doubt if I could have got him up to a note after he heard that Miss Hale flatly denied it. It would have been a troublesome job but it would have been a dissatisfaction and now I must go and tell them they won't be wanted. He accordingly presented himself again at Mr. Hale's that evening. Her father and Dixon would have think persuaded Margaret to go to bed but they neither of them knew the reason for her low continued refuses to do so. Dixon had learned part of the truth but only part. Margaret would not tell any human being of what she had said and she did not reveal the fatal termination of the platform. So Dixon's curiosity combined with her early actions to urge Margaret to go to rest which her appearance as she lay on the sofa showed but too clearly that she was tired. She did not speak except when spoken to she tried to smile back in reply to her father's anxious looks and words of tender inquiry but instead of her smile the when leaves resolved themselves into a sigh. He was so miserably uneasy that at last she consented to go to her own room and prepared for going to bed. She was indeed inclined to give up the idea that the inspector would go again that night as it was already past nine o'clock. She stood by her father holding on to the back of his chair. You will go to bed soon, papa, won't you? Don't sit up alone. What his answer was she did not hear. The words were lost in the far smaller point of sound that magnified itself to her fears and filled her frame. She was so angry that she was unable to bring up the doorbell. She kissed her father and glided downstairs with a rapidity of motion of which no one would have thought her capable who had seen her the minute before. She put aside Dixon. Don't come. I will open the door. I know it is him I can. I must manage it all myself. As you please, miss, said Dixon, testily, but in a moment after guard she added turning round and showing her eyes all aglow with strange fire, her cheeks flushed, though her lips were baked and livid still. She opened the door to the inspector and preceded him into the study. She placed the candle on the table and snubbed it carefully before she turned round and faced him. You are late, said she. Well, she had her breath for the answer. I'm sorry to have given any unnecessary trouble, ma'am, for, after all, they've given up all thoughts of holding an inquest. I have had other work to do and other people to see, or I should have been here before now. Then it is ended, said Margaret. There is to be no further inquiry. I believe I've got Miss Othotton's note about me, said the inspector, thumbing in his pocketbook. Miss Othotton's? said Margaret. Yes, he's a magistrate. Ah, here it is. She could not see to read it. No. Although she was close to the candle, the words went before her, but she held it in her hand and looked at it as if she were intently studying it. I'm sure, ma'am, it's a great weight of my mind, for the evidence was so uncertain, you see, that the man had received any blow at all and if any question of identity came in, it so complicated the clades. As I told Mr. Othotton, Mr. Othotton, said Margaret again. I met him this morning, just as he was coming out of this house and, as he's an old friend of mine beside being the magistrate who saw Leonards last night, I'm able to tell him of my difficulty. Margaret sighed. She did not want to hear any more. She was afraid alike of what she had heard and of what she might hear. She wished that the man would go. She forced herself to speak. Thank you for calling. It is very late. I daresay it is past ten o'clock. Oh, here is the note. She continued, suddenly interpreting the meaning of the hand held out to receive it. He was putting it up, when she said, I think it is a cramped, dazzling sort of writing. I could not read it. Will you just read it to me? He read it aloud to her. Thank you. You told Mr. Othotton that I was not there. Oh, of course, ma'am. I'm sorry now that I have found information which seems to have been so erroneous. At first the young man was so positive and now he said that he doubted all along and hopes that his mistake won't have occasion to use such annoyance as to lose their shopping custom. Good night, ma'am. Good night. She rang the bell for Dixon to show him out. As Dixon returned up the passage, Margaret passed her sweeper. It is all right, said she, without looking at Dixon. And before the woman could follow her with further questions, she had sped upstairs and enter her bench-humber and bolted her door. She threw herself to rest as she was standing upon her bed. She was too much exhausted to think. Half an hour or more elapsed before the cram-nature of her position and the chilliness, supervending upon her great fatigue, had the power to roast her non-specialties. Then she began to recall to combine to wonder. The first idea that presented itself to her was that all the sickening alarm on Frederick's behalf was over, that the strain was past. The next was a wish to remember the success which related to Mr. Thornton. When had he seen him? What had he said? What had Mr. Thornton done? What were the exact words of his note? And until she could recollect even to the placing or on-eating an article, the very expressions which he had used in the note, her mind refused to go on with its progress. But the next conviction came to was clear enough. Mr. Thornton had seen her close to what had helped use their night and had been told of her denial that she was there. She stood as a liar in his eyes. She was a liar. But she had no thought of Benitons before God, nothing but chaos and night surrounded the one lurid fact that in Mr. Thornton's eyes she was degraded. She cared not to think even to herself of how much of excuse she might plead that had nothing to do with Mr. Thornton. Anyone else could find cause for suspicion in what was so natural as her companion, her brother. But what was really false and wrong was known to him, and he had a right to judge her. Oh, Frederick! Frederick! she cried. What have I not sacrificed for you? Even when she fell asleep her thoughts were compared to travel the same circle only with exaggerated and monstrous circumstances obtained. When she awoke he flashed upon her with all the brightness of the morning. Mr. Thornton had learned her falsehood before he went to the coroner that suggested the thought that he had possibly been influenced so to do with a view of sparing her the repetition of her denial. But she pushed this notion on one side with the sick willfulness of a child. If it were so, she felt no gratitude to him as it only showed her how keenly he must have seen that she was this great already. Before he took such unwanted pains to spare her any further trial of truthfulness which had already failed the signal. She would have gone through the hole. She would have perjured herself to say Frederick, rather, far rather than Mr. Thornton should have had the knowledge that prompted him to interfere to save her. What ill fate brought him in contact with the inspector? What made him be the very magistrate sent for to receive Leonhard's deposition? What had Leonhard said? That he was not eligible to Mr. Thornton who might already, for old, she knew be aware of the old accusation against Frederick through their mutual friend Mr. Bell. If so, he had striven to save the son who came in defiance of the law to attend his mother's death. And under this idea she could feel quite not yet, if ever, she should if his interference had been prompted by content. Or had anyone's suggestions close to feel content for her Mr. Thornton, above all people on whom she had looked down from her imaginary head still now. She suddenly found herself at his feet and was strangely distressed at her fall. She shrank from following all the promises to their conclusion and so acknowledging to herself how much she believed his prospect and good opinion. Whenever this idea presented itself to her at the end of a long avenue of thought, she turned away from following that path. She would not believe it. It was later than she pensed for in the agitation of the previous night she had forgotten to wind up her watch and Mr. Hale had given special orders that she was not to be disturbed by the usual awakening. By and by the door opened cautiously and Dixon put her head in. Perceiving that Margaret was awake she came forwards with a letter. Here's something to do you good means letter from Master Frederick. Thank you Dixon. How late it is. She spoke very languidly and suffered Dixon too late on the counter pain before her without putting out a hand to take it. You want your breakfast I'm sure I will bring it to you in a minute. Master has got the tray already I know. Margaret did not reply. She let her go. She felt that she must be alone before she could open that letter. She opened it at last. The first thing that caught her eye was the day two days earlier than she received it. He had then written when he had promised and there all might have been spared but she would read the letter and see. It was hasty enough but perfectly satisfactory. He had seen Henry Lennox who knew enough of the case to shake his head over it in the first instance and tell him he had done a very daring thing in returning to England with such an accusation backed by such powerful influence hanging over him. But when they had come to talk it over Mr. Lennox had a knowledge if he could but prove his statements by credible witnesses that in such case it might be worthwhile to stand his trial. Otherwise it would be a great risk. He would examine. He would take every pains. It struck me, said Frederick that your introduction little sister of mine went a long way. Is it so? He made many inquires I can assure you. He seemed a sharp intelligent fellow and in good practice too to judge from the signs of business but these may be only lawyer's dodges. I have just caught a pep out on the point of sailing. I am off in five minutes. I may have to come back to England again on this business so keep my visit secret. I shall send my father some rare or cherry such as you cannot buy in England such stuff as I bet in the bottle before me. He needs something of the kind my dear love to him. God bless you. I'm sure. Here's my cab. Yes. And that was, take care, you don't breathe of my having been, not even to the shows. Margaret turned to the envelope. It was marked too late. The letter had probably been trusted to some careless waiter who had forgotten to close it. Oh, what slight gobbets of chances stand between us and temptation. Patrick had been safe and out of England 20-30 hours ago and it was only about 17 hours since she had sold the falsehood to Bethel Pursuit which even then would have been ruined. How faithless she had been. Where now was her proud motto Fais-e-Cœ-Dois, at Vienn-Cœ-Pouhan? If she had but dared to bravely tell the truth that regarded herself defying them to find out what she refused to tell concerning another how light of heart she would now have felt. Not humbled before God as having failed in trust towards him not degraded and obeised in Mr. Thornton's side. She caught herself up at this rate of miserable trauma. Here was she classing his low opinion of her alongside with the displeasure of God. How was it that he haunted her imagination super-sistently? What could it be? Why did she care for what he thought in spite of all her pride, in spite of herself? She believed that she could have borne the sense of almighty displeasure because he knew all and could read her penitence and hear her cries for time to come. But Mr. Thornton, why did she tremble and hide her face in the pillow? What strong feeling had overtaken her at last? She sprang out of bed and prayed long and earnestly. It soothed her and comforted her sooth to open her heart. But as soon as she reviewed her position she found the sting was still there that she was not good enough nor pure enough to be indifferent to her fellow-creature that the thought of how he might be looking upon her with content stood between her and her sense of wrongdoing. She took her letter into her father as soon as she was dressed. There was so slight an allusion to their alarm at the railway station that Mr. Hale passed over it without paying any attention to it. Indeed, beyond the mere fact of Frederick having sailed undiscovered and unsuspected he did not gather so uneasy about Margaret's polybloks she seemed continually on the point of weeping. You are sadly all the time, Margaret. It is no wonder. But you must let the nurse you know. He made her lie down on the sofa and went for a show to cover her with. His tenderness released her tears and she cried bitterly. Poor child, poor child, said he looking fondly at her as she lay with her face to the wall shaking with her sobs. As the child they seized and she began to wonder whether her she darsed give herself the relief of telling her father of all her trouble. But there were more reasons against it than for it. The only one for it was the relief to herself and against it was the thought that it would add materially to her father's nervousness if it were indeed necessary for Frederick to come to England again. That he would dwell on the circumstance unwittingly and unwillingly. That this knowledge would perpetually recur to trouble him in various shapes of exaggeration and distortion from the simple truth. And about her own great-hold he would be distressed beyond measure at her want of courage and faith yet perpetually trouble to make excuses for her. Formerly Margaret would have come to him as priest as well as father to tell him of her temptation and her sin. But laterally they had not spoken much on such subjects and she knew not how in this change of opinions he would reply if the death of her soul called on to this. No, she would keep her secret and bear the burden alone. Alone she would go before God and cry for his absolution. Alone she would endure her disgrace positioning the opinion of Mr. Thornton. She was unspeakably touched by the tender efforts of her father to think of cheerful subjects on which to talk and so to take her thought away from dwelling on all that had happened of faith. It was some months since he had been so talkative as he was this day. He would not let her sit up and offended Dixon this desperately by insisting on waiting upon her himself. At last she smiled a cruel weak little smile but it gave him the truest pleasure. It seems strange to think that what gives us most hope for the future should be called Dolores, said Margaret. She was more in character with her father than with her usual self but today they seem to have changed natures. Her mother was a Spaniard, I believe, that accounts for her religion. Her father was a steep presbyterian when I knew him but it is a very soft and pretty name. How young she is! Younger by 14 months than I am. Just the age that addict was when she was engaged Captain Lennox. We will go and see them in Spain. He shook his head, but he said if you wish it Margaret only let us come back here. It would seem unfair, unkind to your mother who always I'm afraid. Dislike Newton so much, if you let this now, she is lying here and cannot go with us. No dear, you shall go and see them and bring me back the report of my Spanish daughter. No papa, I won't go without you. We used to take care of you when I am gone. I should like to know if us is taking care of the other. But if you went, I should persuade Mr. Thornton to let me give him double lessons. We would work up the classics famously. That would be a perpetual interest. You might go on and see a bit at Corfu, if you like. Margaret did not speak all at once. Then she said rather greatly. Thank you papa, but I don't want to go. We will hope that Mr. Lennox will manage so well that Frederick may bring Dolores to the funeral. And as for Eddie, the regiment won't remain much longer in Corfu. Perhaps we shall see both of them here before another year is out. Mr. Hill's cheerful subjects had come to an end. Some painful recollections had stolen across his mind and driven him into silence. Bye and bye, Margaret said. Papa, did you see Nicholas Higgins at the funeral? He was there and married to poor fellow. He had a warm heart under his blood and roughed ways. I'm sure of it, replied Mr. Hill. I saw it all along, even while you tried to persuade me that he was all sorts of bad things. We will go and see them tomorrow if you are strong enough to walk so far. Oh yes, I want to see them. We did not pay Mary or rather she refused to take it, Dixon says. We will go so as to catch him just after his dinner and before he goes to his work. My heart expected Mr. Thornton would have called. He spoke of the book yesterday which he had and which I wanted to see. He said he would try and bring it today. Margaret sighed. She knew he would not come. He would be too delicate to run the chance of meeting her, while her shame must be so fresh in his memory. The very mention of his name renewed her trouble and produced a relapse into the feeling of depressed, preoccupied exhaustion. She gave way to this last linger. Suddenly he struck her that this was a strange manner to show her patience or to reward her father for his watchful care of her all through the day. She set up and offered to read aloud. His eyes were failing and he gladly accepted her proposal. She read well. She gave the due emphasis, but had anyone asked her when she had ended the meaning of what she had been reading she could not have told. She was smitten with the feeling of ingratitude to Mr. Thornton as much as in the morning. She had refused to accept the kindness he had shown her in making further inquiry from the medical man so as to obviate an interest being held. Oh, she was grateful. She had been cowardly and false and had shown her cowardliness and falsehood in action that could not be recalled, but she was not ungrateful. It sent a glow to her heart to know how she could feel towards one who had reason to despise her. His cause for contempt was so just that he respected him less if she had thought he did not feel content. It was a pleasure to feel how terribly she respected him. He could not prevent her doing that. It was the one comfort in all this misery. Lainty in the evening, the expected book arrived with Mr. Thornton's kind regards and wishes to know how Mr. Haley's. Say that I am much better, Dickson, but that Miss Haley, no papa, said Margaret eagerly. Don't say anything about me. My child, how you are shivering, said her father a few minutes afterwards. You must go to bed directly. You have turned quite pale. Margaret did not refuse to go, though she was loath to leave her father alone. She needed the relief of solitude after a day of busy thinking and busy repainting. But she seemed much as usual the next day. The lingering gravity and sadness and the occasional absence of mind were not unnatural symptoms in the early days of grief and almost in proportion to her re-establishment the unhappiness was her father's relapse into his abstracted amusing appearance the wife he had lost and the past era in his life that was close to him forever. End of Chapter 35 Chapter 36 North and South This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell Chapter 36 Union Not Always Strength The steps of the bearers heavy and slow the sobs of the mourners deep and low Shelley At the time arranged the previous day they set out on their walk to see Nicholas Higgins and his daughter. They were both reminded of their recent loss by a strange kind of shyness in their new habiliments and in the fact that it was the first time for many weeks that they had deliberately gone out together. They drew very close to each other in unspoken sympathy. Nicholas was sitting by the fireside in his accustomed corner but he had not his accustomed pipe. He was leaning his head upon his hand, his arm resting on his knee. He did not get up when he saw them though Margaret could read the welcome in his eye. Sit ye down, sit ye down fires welly out said he giving it a vigorous poke as if to turn attention away from himself. He was rather disorderly to be sure with a black, unshaven beard and several days' growth making his pale face look yet paler and a jacket which would have been all the better for patching. We thought we should have a good chance of finding you just after dinner time, said Margaret. We have had our sorrow too since we saw you said Mr. Hale. Aye, aye, sorrows is more plentiful than dinner's just now. I reckon my dinner hour stretches all out there. Are you sure of finding me? Are you out of work? asked Margaret. Aye, he replied shortly. Then after a moment's silence he added, looking up for the first time, I'm not wanting brass, don't you think it? Best poor lass had a little stock under her pillow ready to slip into me and last moment a Mary's fustion cutting but I'm out to work all same. We owe Mary some money, said Mr. Hale, before Margaret's sharp pressure on his arm could arrest the words. If who texts it, I'll turn her out to doers. I'll buy it inside these four walls and she'll buy it out. That's all. But we owe her many thanks for her kind service, began Mr. Hale again. I know I thank your daughter there for her deeds of love to my poor wench. I know I could fight words. I'll have to begin and try now if you start making an adieu about what little Mary could serve you. Is it because of the strike you're out of work? asked Margaret gently. Strike's ended. It's over for this time. I'm out to work because I near us for it and I near us for it because good words is scarce and bad words is plentiful. He was in a mood to take a surly pleasure in giving answers that were like riddles. But Margaret saw that he would like to be asked for the explanation. And good words are? Ask him for work. I reckon them's almost best words that men can say. Give me work means and I'll do it like a man. Them's good words. And bad words are refusing your work when you ask for it. Aye, bad words is saying aha my fine chap you've been true to your order and I'll be true to mine. You did the best you could for them as wanted help. That's your way being true to your kind and I'll be true to mine. You've been a poor fool as no no better know be a true faithful fool so go and be damned to you. There's no work for you here. Them's bad words. I'm not a fool. And if I was, folk ought to have taught me how to be wise after their fashion. They tried to teach me. Would it not be worthwhile said Mr. Hale to ask your old master if he would take you back again. It might be a poor chance but it would be a chance. He looked up again with a sharp glance at the questioner and then titted a low and bitter laugh. Master, if it's no offence I'll ask you a questioner too in my turn. You're quite welcome said Mr. Hale. I reckon you're somewhere earning your bread. Folk Seldom lives in Milton just for pleasure if they can live anywhere else. You are quite right. I have some independent property but my intention in settling in Milton was to become a private tutor. To teach Folk. Well I reckon they pay you for teaching them don't they? Yes replied Mr. Hale smiling. I teach in order to get paid. And them that pay you don't they tell you what to do or what not to do with the money that gives you in just payment for your pains in fair exchange like no to be sure not. They don't say you may have a brother or a friend as dear as a brother who wants to see a brass for a purpose both you and he think right but you must promise not to give it to him. You may see a good use you think to put your money to but we don't think it good and so if you spend it at that ends we'll just leave off dealing with you. They don't say that don't they? No to be sure not. Would you stand it if they did? It would be some very hard pressure that would make me even think of submitting to such dictation. There's not the pressure on all the broad earth that would make me said Nicholas Higgins now you've got it you've hit the bullseye ampers, that's where I worked makes their men pledge themselves they'll not give a penny to help union who keep turnouts for claiming they may pledge and make pledge continued he scornfully they nub but make liars and hypocrites and that's a lesson to my mind to making men's hearts so hard that they'll not do a kindness to them as needs it or help on the right and just cause though it goes again the strong hand but I'll therefore swear myself for all the work the king could give me I'm a member of the union and I think it's the only thing to do the workmen any good and I've been a turn out and known what it were to claim so if I get a shilling Sixpence shall go to them if they ask it from me Consequences I don't see where I'm to get a shilling Is that rule about not contributing to the union in force at all the mills us Margaret I cannot say it's a new regulation at our own and I reckon they'll find that they cannot stick to it but it's in force now by and by they'll find out tyrants mech liars there was a little pause Margaret was hesitating whether she should say what was in her mind she was unwilling to irritate one who was already gloomy and despondent enough at last out it came but in her soft tones and with her reluctant manner showing that she was unwilling to say anything unpleasant it did not seem to annoy Higgins only to perplex him do you remember poor Boucher saying that the union was a tyrant I think he said it was the worst tyrant of all and I remember at the time I read with him it was a long while before he spoke he was resting his head on his two hands and looking down into the fire so she could not read the expression on his face I'll not deny but what union finds it necessary to force a man into his own good I'll speak truth a man leads a dreelife who's not at union but once in union he likes to take care on better know he could do it for himself or buy himself for that matter it's the only way working men can get their rights by all joining together more than members more chance for each one separate man of injustice done him government takes care of fools and madmen and if any man is inclined to do himself for his neighbour a hurt it puts a bit of a check on him whether he likes it or not that's all we do at union we poke him to prison but we can make a man's life so ever to be born that he's obliged to come in and be wise and helpful in spite of himself about you were a fool all along and never worse than at last he did you harm asked Margaret that did he we have public opinion on our side to Lee and his sort began rioting and breaking laws for all or wit's strike then then would it not have been far better to have left him alone and not forced him to join the union he did you no good and you drove him mad Margaret said her father in a low and warning tone for he saw the cloud gathering on Higgins' face I like her said Higgins suddenly who speaks plain out what's in her mind who doesn't comprehend union for all that it's a great power it's our only power I read a bit of poetry about a plough going over a daisy has made tears come into my eyes before I had other calls for crying but the chap now stopped driving the plough eyes a warrant for all he were pitiful about daisy he'd too much mother wit for that union's the plough make him redder the land for our this time such as Boucher trouble setting him up too much to lighten him to a daisy he's like a weed lounging over the ground must just make up their mind to be put out at way I'm so vexed we am just now so mad and I don't speak in fare I could go in with a plough myself with all the pleasure in life why? what has he been doing? fresh? aye, to be sure he's now out and mischief that man first of all he must go raging like a mad fool and kick up young riot then he'd to go into hiding where he'd been yet if Thornton had followed him out as I hoped he would have done but Thornton, having got his own purpose didn't care to go on with prosecution for the riot so Boucher slunked back again to his house he now assured himself abroad for a day or two he had that grace and then where think ye that he went? why? to Amper's dammit he went with his mealy mouthed face that turns me sick to look at asking for work though he know'd well enough the new rule of pledging themselves to give out to unions now to help starving turnouts why'd a clemter death if Union't helped him in his pinch there he went awesome to promise out and pledge himself to out to tell all he know'd and our proceedings they'd good for nothing Judas but I'll say this for Amper and thank him for it at mid-iron day he drove Boucher away and wouldn't listen to him near a word the folk standing by said the traitor cried like a babby oh how shocking how pitiful exclaimed Margaret Higgins I don't know you today don't you see how you've made Boucher what he is by driving him into the union against his will without his heart going with it you have made him what he is made him what he is what was he gathering, gathering along the narrow street came a hollow measured sound now forcing itself on their attention many voices were hushed and low many steps were heard not moving onwards at least not with any rapidity or steadiness of motion but as if circling round one spot yes there was one distinct slow trumpet feet which made itself a clear path through the air and reach their ears the measured laboured walk of men carrying a heavy burden they were all drawn towards the house door by some irresistible impulse impelled thither not by a poor curiosity but as if by some solemn blast six men walked in the middle of the road three of them being policemen they carried a door taken off its hinges upon their shoulders on which lay some dead human creature and from each side of the door there were constant droppings all the street turned out to see and seeing to accompany the procession each one questioning the bearers who answered almost reluctantly at last so often had they told the tale we found them at Brook and feel beyond there Brook why there's not water enough to drown him he was a determined chap he lay with his face downwards he was sick enough of living choose what cause he had for it Higgins crept up to Margaret's side and said in a weak piping kind of voice it's not John Boucher he had no spunk enough sure it's not John Boucher why they're all looking this way listen I've a singing in my head and I cannot hear they put the door down carefully upon the stones and all might see the poor drowned wretch his glassy eyes one half open staring right up with them to the sky owing to the position in which he'd been found lying his face was swollen and discoloured besides his skin was stained by the water in the Brook which had been used for dying purposes the four part of his head was bald but the hair grew thin and long behind and every separate lock was a conduit for water through all these disfigurements Margaret recognised John Boucher it seemed to her so sacrilegious to be peering into that poor distorted agonised face that by a flash of instant she went forwards and softly covered the dead man's countenance with her handkerchief the eyes that saw her do this followed her as she turned away from her pious office and was thus led to the place where Nicholas Higgins stood like one rooted to the spot the men spoke together and then one of them came up to Higgins who would have feigned shrunk back into his house Higgins, thou knowed him them and go tell the wife do it gently man but do it quick for we cannot leave him here long I cannot go said Higgins do not ask me I cannot face her thou knowed her best said the man weaned on a deal in bringing him here thou take thy share I cannot do it said Higgins and while he felled we're seeing him we wasn't friends and now he's dead well if they'll one up they'll one up some one man though it's a dreed task but it's a chance every minute as she doesn't hear on it some rough away no a person going to make a let on by degrees as it were ah do you go said Margaret in a low voice if I could if I had time to think of what I had better say but all at once Margaret saw that her father was indeed unable he was trembling from head to foot I will go said she bless you miss it will be a kind act for she's been but a sickly sort of body I hear about no much honor Margaret knocked at the closed door but there was such a noise as of many little ordered children that she could hear no reply indeed she doubted if she was heard and as every moment of delay made her recoil from her task more and more she opened the door and went in shutting it after her and even unseen to the woman fastening the bolt Mrs. Boucher was sitting in a rocking chair on the other side of the ill red-up fireplace it looked as if the house had been untouched for days by any effort at cleanliness Margaret said something she hardly knew what her throat and mouth were so dry and the children's noise completely prevented her from being heard she tried again how are you Mrs. Boucher but very poorly I'm afraid I have no chance of being well said she quarrellessly I'm left alone to manage these children and not for to give them for to keep them quiet John Shudner left me and me so poorly how long is it since he went away for a day's sin no one would give him work here I need to go on tramp towards Greenfield but he might have been back before this and sent me some word if he'd get in work oh don't blame him said Margaret he felt it deeply I'm sure we'll told the din and let me at ladies speak addressing herself in no very gentle voice to a little urchin of about a year old she apologetically continued to Margaret he's always mined the myth of daddy and butsy and I have no buts to give him and daddy's aware and forgotten as all I think he's his father's darling he is said she with a sudden turn of mood and dragging the child up to her knee she began kissing it fondly Margaret laid her hand on the woman's arm to arrest her attention their eyes met poor little fellow said Margaret slowly he was his father's darling he is his father's darling said the woman rising hastily and standing face to face with Margaret neither of them spoke for a moment or two then Mrs. Boucher began in a low, growling tone gathering in wildness as she went on he is his father's darling I say poor folk and love the children as well as rich why don't you speak why don't you stare at me with your great pitiful eyes where's John because she was she shook Margaret to force out an answer oh my god said she understanding the meaning of that tearful look she sank back into the chair Margaret took up the child and put him into her arms he loved him said she I said the woman shaking her head he loved us all he loved her to love us once it's a long time ago but when he were in life and with us he did love us he did he loved this babby mat and the best on us but he loved me and I loved him though I was calling him five minutes ago are you sure he's dead said she trying to get up if it's sunny that he's ill and like to die they may bring him round yet I'm but an earling creature in his cell I've been earling this long time but he is dead he is drowned forker brought round after the dead drowned one was I thinking of to sit still when I should be stirring my cell here wish the child wish thee take this take out to play with but don't cry while my heart's breaking oh where's my strength gone to oh John husband saved her from falling by catching her in her arms she sat down in the rocking chair and held the woman upon her knees her head lying on Margaret's shoulder the other children clustered together in a fright began to understand the mystery of the scene but the ideas came slowly for their brains were dull and languid of perception they set up such a cry of despair as they guessed the truth Margaret knew not how to bear it John's cry was loudest of them all though he knew not why he cried poor little fellow the mother quivered as she lay in Margaret's arms Margaret heard a noise at the door open it open it quick said she to the eldest child it's bolted make no noise be very still oh papa let them go upstairs very softly and carefully and perhaps she will not hear them she's fainted that's all it's as well for a poor creature said a woman following in the wake of the bearers of the dead but you're not fit to hold her stay I'll thumb fetch her pillow and we'll let her down easy on floor this helpful neighbour was a great relief to Margaret she was evidently a stranger to the house a newcomer in the district indeed but she was so kind and thoughtful that Margaret felt she was no longer needed and that it would be better perhaps to set an example of clearing the house which was filled with idle if sympathising gazes she looked round for Nicholas Higgins he was not there so she spoke to the woman who had taken the lead in placing Mrs. Boucher on the floor can you give all these people a hint that they'd better leave in quietness so that when she comes round she should only find one or two that she knows about her Papa will you speak to the men and get them to go away she cannot breathe poor thing with this crowd about her Margaret was kneeling down by Mrs. Boucher and bathing her face with vinegar but in a few minutes she was surprised at the gush of fresh air she looked round and saw a smile between her father and the woman what is it? asked she only our good friend here replied her father hit on a capital expedient for clearing the place I bid him be gone and each take a chariot and to mind that there were orphans and their mother a widow it was who could do most and the children are sure of a bellifold today and of kindness too does who know how he died no said Margaret I could not tell her all at once her mum be told because at think west see you's coming round shall you or I do it your father will be best no you, you said Margaret they awaited her perfect recovery in silence then the neighbour woman sat down on the floor and took Mrs. Boucher's head and shoulders with her lap neighbour said she your man is dead guess you how he died he were drowned said Mrs. Boucher feebly beginning to cry for the first time at this rough probing of her sorrows he were found round he were coming home very hopeless of out on earth he thought God couldn't be harder than men madam not so hard madam as tender as a mother madam tenderer I'm not saying he did right and I'm not saying he did wrong all I say is may neither mean am I never have his sore heart that we may do like things he's left me alone we all these children moment the widow less distressed at the manner of the death than Margaret expected but it was of a peace with her helpless character to feel his loss as principally affecting herself and her children not alone said Mr. Hale solemnly who is with you who will take up your cause the widow opened her eyes wide and looked at the new speaker of whose presence she'd not been aware till then who has promised to be a father to the fatherless continued he had gotten six children sir and the eldest not eight years of age I'm not meaning for to doubt his power sir only it needs a deal of trust and she began to cry afresh who'll be better able to talk tomorrow sir said the neighbour best comfort now will be the feel of a child at her heart I'm sorry they took their babby I'll go for it said Margaret and in a few minutes she returned carrying Johnny his face all smeared with eating and his hands loaded with treasures in the shape of shells and bits of crystal and the head of a plaster figure she placed him in his mother's arms there said the woman now you go they'll cry together and comfort together better than anyone but a child can do I'll stop with her as long as I'm needed and if you come tomorrow you can have a deal a wise talk with her that she's not up to today as Margaret and her father went slowly up the street she paused at Higgins closed door shall we go in asked her father I was thinking of him too they knocked there was no answer so they tried the door it was bolted but they thought they heard him moving within Nicholas said Margaret there was no answer and they might have gone away believing the house to be empty if there had not been some accidental fall as of a book within Nicholas said Margaret again it is only us won't you let us come in no said he I spoke as plain as I could when I bolted door let me be this day Mr. Hale would have urged their desire but Margaret placed her finger on his lips I don't wonder at it said she I myself long to be alone it seems the only thing to do one good after a day like this End of Chapter 36 Chapter 37 North and South this is a LibriVox recording LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Love Dim Bruters Los Angeles, California, USA North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell Chapter 37 Looking South a spade, a rake, a hoe a pickaxe or a bill a hook to reap or a sith to mow or what ye will and here's a ready hand to ply the needful tool and skilled enough by lessons rough and labors rugged school by hood Higgins door was locked the next day when they went to pay their call on the widdle Boucher but they learned this time from an officious neighbor that he really was from home he had however been into see Mrs. Boucher before starting on his day's business whatever that was it was but an unsatisfactory visit to Mrs. Boucher she considered herself as an ill-used woman by her poor husband's suicide and there was quite germa truth enough in this idea to make it a very difficult one to refute still it was unsatisfactory to see how completely her thoughts were turned upon herself and her own position and the selfishness extended even to her relations with her children whom she considered as encumbrances even in the very midst of her somewhat animal affection for them Margaret tried to make acquaintance with one or two of them while her father strove to raise the widow's thoughts into some higher channel than that of mere helpless quarellessness she found that the children were truer and simpler mourners than the widow Daddy had been a kind daddy to them each could tell in their eager stammering way of some tenderness shown some indulgence granted by the lost father it yawning upstairs really it doesn't look like him I'm feared on it and I would never fear to daddy Margaret's heart bled to hear that the mother in her selfish requirement of sympathy had taken her children upstairs to see their disfigured father it was intermingling the coarseness of horror with the profoundness of natural grief she tried to turn their thoughts in some other direction on what they could do for their mother on what for this was a more efficacious way of putting it what father wished them to do Margaret was more successful than Mr. Hale in her efforts the children seeing their little duties lie in action close around them began to try each one to do something that she suggested towards readying up the slatternly room but her father set too high a standard and too abstract a view before the indolent invidate she could not rouse her torpid mind into any vivid imagination of what her husband's misery might have been but he had resorted to that last terrible step she could only look upon it as it affected herself she could not enter into the enduring mercy of the god who had not specially interposed to prevent the water from drowning her prostrate husband and although she was secretly blaming her husband for having fallen into such drear despair and denying that he had any excuse for his last rash act she was inveterate in her abuse of all who could by any possibility send him to such desperation the masters Mr. Thornton in particular whose mill had been attacked by Boucher and who after the warrant had been issued for his apprehension on the charge of rioting had caused it to be withdrawn the union of which Higgins was the representative to the poor woman the children so numerous so hungry and so noisy all made up one great army of personal enemies whose fault it was that she was now a helpless widow Margaret heard enough of this unreasonableness to dishearten her and when they came away she found it impossible to cheer her father it is the town life said she their nerves are quickened by the haste and bustle and speed of everything around them to say nothing of the confinement in these pent up houses which of itself is enough to induce depression and worry of spirits now in the country people live so much more out of doors than children and even in the winter but people must live in towns and in the country some get such stagnant habits of mind that they are almost fatalists yes I acknowledge that I suppose each mode of life produces its own trials and its own temptations the dweller in towns must find it as difficult to be patient and calm as the country breadman must find it to be active and equal to unwanted emergencies both must find it hard to realize the nature of any kind the one because the present is so living and hurrying and close around him the other because his life tempts him to revel in the mere sense of animal existence not knowing of and consequently not caring for any pungency of pleasure for the attainment of which he can plan and deny himself and look forward and those both the necessity for engrossment and the stupid content in the present produce the same effects but this poor Miss Butcher how little we can do for her and yet we dare not leave her without our efforts although they may seem so useless oh papa it is a hard world we live in so it is my child we feel it so just now at any rate but we have been very happy even in the midst of our sorrow what a pleasure Frederick's visit was yes that it was said Margaret brightly the harming snatched forbidden thing but she suddenly stopped speaking she had spoiled the remembrance of Frederick's visit to herself by her own cowardice of all faults the one she most despised in others was the want of bravery the meanness of heart which leads to untruth and here she had been guilty of it then came the thought of Mr. Thornton's cognizance of her falsehood she wondered if she should have mined a detection half so much from anyone else she tried herself an imagination with her aunt Shaw and Edith with her father with Captain and Mr. Lennox with Frederick the thought of the last knowing what she had done even in his own behalf was the most painful for the brother and sister were in the first flesh of their mutual regard and love and even any fall in Frederick's opinion was as nothing to the shame the shrinking shame she felt at the thought of meeting Mr. Thornton again and yet she longed to see him to get it over to understand where she stood in his opinion her cheeks burnt as she recollected how proudly she had implied an objection to trade in the early days of their acquaintance because it too often led to the deceit of passing off inferior for superior goods in the one branch of assuming credit for wealth and resources not possessed in the other she remembered Mr. Thornton's look of calm disdain as in a few words he gave her to understand that in the great scheme of commerce all dishonorable ways of acting were sure to prove injurious in the long run and that testing such actions simply according to the poor standard of success there was folly and not wisdom in all such and every kind of deceit and trade as well as in other things she remembered she then strong in her own untempted truth asking him that buying in the cheapest and selling in the dearest market proved some want of the transparent justice which is so intimately connected with the idea of truth and she had used the word chivalric and her father had corrected her with a higher word Christian and so drawn the argument upon himself while she sat silent by with a slight feeling of contempt no more contempt for her no more talk about the chivalric henceforth she must feel humiliated and disgraced in his sight but when should she see him her heart leaped up in apprehension at every ring of the doorbell and yet when it fell down to calmness she felt strangely saddened and sick at heart at each disappointment was very evident that her father expected to see him and was surprised that he did not come the truth was that there were points in their conversation the other night on which they had no time then to enlarge but it had been understood that if possible on the succeeding evening if not then at least the very first evening that Mr. Thornton could command they should meet for further discussion Mr. Hale had looked forward to this meeting ever since they had parted he had not yet resumed the instruction to his pupils which he had relinquished at the commencement of his wife's more serious illness so he had fewer occupations than usual and the great interest of the last day or so bush or suicide had driven him back with more eagerness than ever upon his speculations he was restless all evening he kept saying I quite expected to have seen Mr. Thornton I think the messenger who brought the book last night must have had some note and forgot to deliver it do you think there has been any message left today I will go and inquire papa said Margaret after the changes on these sentences had been wrong once or twice stay there's a ring she sat down instantly and bent her head attentively over her work she heard a step on the stairs but it was only one and she knew it was Dixon's she lifted up her head and sighed and believed she felt glad it's that Igin sir he wants to see you or else Miss Hale or might be Miss Hale first then you sir for he's in a strange kind of way he better come up here Dixon and then he can see us both and choose what he likes for his listener oh very well sir I've no wish to hear what he's got to say I'm sure only if you could see his shoes I'm sure you'd say the kitchen was the fitter place he can wipe them I suppose said Mr. Hale so Dixon flung off to bit him walk upstairs she was a little mollified however when he looked at his feet with hesitating air and then sitting down on the bottom stair he took off the offending shoes and without a word walked upstairs sovereign sir said he slicking his hair down when he came into the room the fool excuse me looking at Margaret for being in my stockings I've been trampin all day and streets is none of the cleanest Margaret thought that fatigue might account for the change in his manner for he was unusually quiet and subdued and he had evidently some difficulty in saying what he came to say Mr. Hale's ever ready sympathy with anything of shyness or hesitation or want of self-possession made him come to his aid we shall have tea up directly and then you'll take a cup with us Mr. Higgins I'm sure you are tired if you've been out much this wet relaxing day Margaret my dear can't you hasten tea Margaret could only hasten tea by taking the preparation of it into her own hands and so offending Dixon who is emerging out of her sorrow for her late mistress into a very touchy irritable state but Martha like all who came in contact with Margaret even Dixon herself in the long run felt it a pleasure and an honor to forward any of her wishes and her readiness and Margaret's sweet forbearance soon made Dixon ashamed of herself why master you must always be asking the lower classes upstairs since we come to Milton I cannot understand folk at Hellstone were never brought higher and I've let one or two of them know before now that they might think in an honor to even be there Higgins found it easier to embroider himself to one than to two after Margaret left the room he went to the door and assured himself that it was shut then he came and stood close to Mr. Hale Master said he you'd not guess easy what I've been trumping after today especially as you'll remember my manner of talk yesterday I've been seeking work I have said he I said to myself I'd keep a civil tongue in my head let who would say what him would I'd set my teeth into my tongue sooner nor speak in haste for that man's sake you understand jerking his thumb back in some unknown direction no I don't said Mr. Hale seeing he waited for some kind of ascent and completely bewildered as to who that man could be that chap at Lizaire went and drowned himself poor chap I did not think he'd got it in him to lie still and let the water creep over him till he died Boucher you know yes I know now said Mr. Hale go back to what you were saying you not speak in haste for his sake yet not for his sake for whatever he is and where he'll never know other clemen or cold again but for the wife's sake and the bits of children he'll never know God bless you said Mr. Hale starting up then calming down he said breathlessly what do you mean tell me out I'll tell you said Higgins a little surprised at Mr. Hale's agitation I would not ask for work for myself but them's left as a charge in me I reckon I would have guided Boucher to a better end but I set him off the road so I must answer for him Mr. Hale got hold of Higgins hand and took it heartily without speaking Higgins looked awkward and ashamed the year there there's a narrow man to call a man amongst us but would do the same I and better too for believe me I's never got a stroke of work not yet a sight of any for all I told Hamper that let along his pledge which I would not sign no I could not not even for this he'd never had such a work on his mill as I would be he had none of me I would none of the others I'm a poor black feckless sheep children may cling for odd I can do a less person you'd help me help you ow I would do anything but what can I do miss here for Margaret had re-entered the room and stood silent listening I often talk grand of the south in the ways down there now I don't know how far off it is but I've been thinking if I could get down there where food is cheap and wages good and all the folk rich and poor master and man friendly like you could maybe help me to work I'm not 45 and I have a deal of strength left in me mister but what kind of what could you do my man well I reckon I could spate a bit and for that said Margaret stepping forwards for anything you could do Higgins with the best will in the world you could maybe get nine shillings a week maybe ten at the outside food is much the same as here except that you might have a little garden the children could work at that said he I'm sick of Milton anyways and Milton sick of me you must not go to the south said Margaret for all that you could not stand it you would have to be out in all weathers it would kill you with rheumatism the mere bodily your time of life would break you down the fairest far different to what you've been accustomed to I'm not particular about my meat said he as if offended but you reckon on having butchers meet once a day if you're in work pay for that out of your ten shillings and keep those poor children if you can I owe it to you since it's my way of talking that is set you off on this idea to put it all clear before you you would not care the dullness of the life you don't know what it is it would eat away at you like rust those who have lived their all their lives are used to soaking in the stagnant waters they labor on from day to day in the great solitude of steaming fields never speaking or lifting up their poor bent downcast heads the hard spade work robs their brains of life the sameness of their toil deadens their imagination I don't care to meet to talk over thoughts and speculations even of the weakest wildest kind after the work is done they go home brutishly tired poor creatures caring for nothing but food and rest you could not stir them up into any companionship which you get in a town as plentiful as the air you breathe whether it be good or bad and that I don't know but I do know that you have all men are not one to bear a life among such laborers that would be peace to them would be eternal fretting to you think no more of it Nicholas I beg besides you could never pay to get mother and children all there that's one good thing I reckon for that one house man do for us all and the furniture of daughter would go a good way and men their men have their families to keep mapping six or seven children God help him said he more convinced by his own presentation of the facts than by all Margaret had said and suddenly renouncing the idea which had but recently formed itself in a brain worn out by a day's fatigue and anxiety God help him north and south of each get in their own troubles if work sure and steady there labor's paid at starvation prices while here were rucks of money coming in one quarter and narrow farthing the next for sure the world is in confusion that passes me or any other man to understand it needs fettlin and who's to fettle it if it's as young folks say and there's not but what we see Mr. Hale was busy cutting bread and butter Margaret was glad of this for she saw that Higgins was better left to himself that if her father began to speak ever so mildly on the subject of Higgins thoughts the latter would consider himself challenged to an argument and would feel himself bound to maintain the old ground she and her father kept up an indifferent conversation until Higgins scarcely aware whether he ate or not had made a very substantial meal then he pushed his chair away from the table and tried to take an interest in what they were saying but it was of no use and he fell back into dreamy gloom suddenly Margaret said she had been thinking of it for some time but the words had stuck in her throat Higgins have you been to Marlboro Mills to seek for work? Thornton's asked he I have been at Thornton's and what did he say such a chap as me is not like to see the meester the old looker bid me to go and be damned I wish you had seen Mr. Thornton said Mr. Hale he might not have given you work but he would not have used such language as to the language I'm well used to it it doesn't matter to me I would not mesh myself when I'm put out it were the fact that I were not wanted there no more nor any other place as I minded but I wish you had seen Mr. Thornton repeated Margaret would you go again it's a good deal to ask I know but would you go to Marlboro and try him I should be so glad if you would I'm afraid it would be of no use said Mr. Hale in a low voice it would be better to let me speak to him Margaret still looked at Higgins for his answer those grave soft eyes of hers were difficult to resist he gave a great sigh ah it would tax my pride above a bit if it were for myself I could stand a deal of Clemen first I'd sooner knock him down than ask a favor of him I'd a deal sooner be flogged myself but you're not a common winch accent your pardon nor yet have you common ways about you I needn't make a right face and go at it tomorrow don't you think that he'll do it that man has it in him to be burnt at the stake afford to give in I'd do it for your sake Ms. Hale and it's first time in my life as I give way to a woman neither my wife nor best could air say that much again me all the more I do thank you said Margaret smiling though I don't believe you I think you've just given way to wife and daughters to the most men and as to Mr. Thornton said Mr. Hale I'll give you a note to him which I think I may venture to say will ensure you a hearing I thank you kindly sir but I'd at least stand on my own bottom I'd done a stomach the notion of having a favor curried for me by one who doesn't know the ins and outs of the quarrel Madeleine Twix master and man is like Madeleine Twix husband and wife than odd else it takes a deal of wisdom for to do any good I'll stand there from six in the morning till I get speech on him but I leave her sweep the streets if poppers had not got hold on that work done of your hope miss there'll be more chance of getting milk out of a flint I wish you all very good night and many thanks to you you'll find your shoes by the kitchen fire I took them there to dry said Margaret he turned round and looked at her steadily and then he brushed his lean hand across his eyes and went his way how broad that man is said her father who was a little annoyed at the manner in which Higgins had declined his intercession with Mr. Thornton he is said Margaret but what grand makings of a man there are in him pride and all it's amusing to see how he evidently respects the part in Mr. Thornton's character which is like his own there's granite in all these northern people papa is there not there was none in poor Boucher I'm afraid none in his wife either I should guess from their tones that they had Irish blood in them I wonder what success he'll have tomorrow if he and Mr. Thornton would speak out together as man to man if Higgins would forget that Mr. Thornton was a master and speak to him as he does to us and if Mr. Thornton would be patient enough to listen to him with his human heart not with his master's ears ha you're going to do Mr. Thornton justice at last Margaret said her father pinching her ear Margaret had a strange choking at her heart which made her unable to answer she thought I wish I were a man that I could go and force him to express his disapprobation and tell him honestly that I knew I deserved it it seems hard to lose him as a friend just when I had begun to feel his value how tender he was with dear mama if it were only for her sake I wish he would come and then at least I should know how much I was abased in his eyes end of chapter 37 has read by