Margaret and Frederick looked at each other. That quick momentarysympathy would be theirs no longer if he went away. So much wasunderstood through eyes that could not be put into words. Both coursedthe same thought till it was lost in sadness. Frederick shook it off first:
\"Do you know, Margaret, I was very nearly giving both Dixon andmyself a good fright this afternoon. I was in my bedroom; I had heard aring at the front door, but I thought the ringer must have done hisbusiness and gone away long ago; so I was on the point of making myappearance in the passage, when, as I opened my room door, I sawDixon coming downstairs; and she frowned and kicked me into hidingagain. I kept the door open, and heard a message given to some manthat was in my father\"s study, and that then went away. Who could ithave been? Some of the shopmen?\"
\"Very likely,\" said Margaret, indifferently. \"There was a little quiet manwho came up for orders about two o\"clock.\"
\"But this was not a little man--a great powerful fellow; and it was pastfour when he was here.\"
\"It was Mr. Thornton,\" said Mr. Hale. They were glad to have drawn himinto the conversation.
\"Mr. Thornton!\" said Margaret, a little surprised. \"I thought----\"
\"Well, little one, what did you think?\" asked Frederick, as she did notfinish her sentence.
\"Oh, only,\" said she, reddening and looking straight at him, \"I fanciedyou meant some one of a different class, not a gentleman; somebodycome on an errand.\"
\"He looked like some one of that kind,\" said Frederick, carelessly. \"I tookhim for a shopman, and he turns out a manufacturer.\"
Margaret was silent. She remembered how at first, before she knew hischaracter, she had spoken and thought of him just as Frederick wasdoing. It was but a natural impression that was made upon him, and yetshe was a little annoyed by it. She was unwilling to speak; she wantedto make Frederick understand what kind of person Mr. Thornton was-butshe was tongue-tied.
Mr. Hale went on. \"He came to offer any assistance in his power, Ibelieve. But I could not see him. I told Dixon to ask him if he wouldlike to see you--I think I asked her to find you, and you would go tohim. I don\"t know what I said.\"
\"He has been a very agreeable acquaintance, has he not?\" askedFrederick, throwing the question like a ball for any one to catch whochose.
\"A very kind friend,\" said Margaret, when her father did not answer.
Frederick was silent for a time. At last he spoke:
\"Margaret, it is painful to think I can never thank those who have shownyou kindness. Your acquaintances and mine must be separate. Unless,indeed, I run the chances of a court-martial, or unless you and my fatherwould come to Spain.\" He threw out this last suggestion as a kind offeeler; and then suddenly made the plunge. \"You don\"t know how I wishyou would. I have a good position--the chance of a better,\" continued he,reddening like a girl. \"That Dolores Barbour that I was telling you of,Margaret--I only wish you knew her; I am sure you would like--no, loveis the right word, like is so poor--you would love her, father, if youknew her. She is not eighteen; but if she is in the same mind anotheryear, she is to be my wife. Mr. Barbour won\"t let us call it anengagement. But if you would come, you would find friendseverywhere, besides Dolores. Think of it, father. Margaret, be on myside.\"
\"No--no more removals for me,\" said Mr. Hale. \"One removal has costme my wife. No more removals in this life. She will be here; and herewill I stay out my appointed time.\"
\"Oh, Frederick,\" said Margaret, \"tell us more about her. I never thoughtof this; but I am so glad. You will have some one to love and care foryou out there. Tell us all about it.\"
\"In the first place, she is a Roman Catholic. That\"s the only objection Ianticipated. But my father\"s change of opinion--nay, Margaret, don\"tsigh.\"
Margaret had reason to sigh a little more before the conversation ended.
Frederick himself was Roman Catholic in fact, though not in professionas yet. This was, then, the reason why his sympathy in her extreme
distress at her father\"s leaving the Church had been so faintly expressedin his letters. She had thought it was the carelessness of a sailor; but thetruth was, that even then he was himself inclined to give up the form ofreligion into which he had been baptised, only that his opinions weretending in exactly the opposite direction to those of his father. Howmuch love had to do with this change not even Frederick himself couldhave told. Margaret gave up talking about this branch of the subject atlast; and, returning to the fact of the engagement, she began to considerit in some fresh light: