dull kind of way, though they were hidden out of sight. Now, once forall she would consider them, and appoint to each of them its right workin her life. So she sat almost motionless for hours in the drawing-room,going over the bitterness of every remembrance with an unwincingresolution. Only once she cried aloud, at the stinging thought of thefaithlessness which gave birth to that abasing falsehood.
She now would not even acknowledge the force of the temptation; herplans for Frederick had all failed, and the temptation lay there a deadmockery,--a mockery which had never had life in it; the lie had been sodespicably foolish, seen by the light of the ensuing events, and faith inthe power of truth so infinitely the greater wisdom!
In her nervous agitation, she unconsciously opened a book of herfather\"s that lay upon the table,--the words that caught her eye in it,seemed almost made for her present state of acute self-abasement:-\"
Je ne voudrois pas reprendre mon coeur en ceste sorte: meurs de honte,aveugle, impudent, traistre et desloyal a ton Dieu, et sembables choses;mais je voudrois le corriger par voye de compassion. Or sus, monpauvre coeur, nous voila tombez dans la fosse, laquelle nous avions tantresolu d\" eschapper. Ah! relevons-nous, et quittons-la pour jamais,reclamons la misericorde de Dieu, et esperons en elle qu\"elle nousassistera pour desormais estre plus fermes; et remettons-nous au cheminde l\"humilite. Courage, soyons meshuy sur nos gardes, Dieu nousaydera.\"
\"The way of humility. Ah,\" thought Margaret, \"that is what I havemissed! But courage, little heart. We will turn back, and by God\"s helpwe may find the lost path.\"
So she rose up, and determined at once to set to on some work whichshould take her out of herself. To begin with, she called in Martha, asshe passed the drawing-room door in going up-stairs, and tried to findout what was below the grave, respectful, servant-like manner, whichcrusted over her individual character with an obedience that was almostmechanical. She found it difficult to induce Martha to speak of any ofher personal interests; but at last she touched the right chord, in namingMrs. Thornton. Martha\"s whole face brightened, and, on a littleencouragement, out came a long story, of how her father had been inearly life connected with Mrs. Thornton\"s husband--nay, had even beenin a position to show him some kindness; what, Martha hardly knew,for it had happened when she was quite a little child; and circumstanceshad intervened to separate the two families until Martha was nearlygrown up, when, her father having sunk lower and lower from hisoriginal occupation as clerk in a warehouse, and her mother being dead,she and her sister, to use Martha\"s own expression, would have been\"lost\" but for Mrs. Thornton; who sought them out, and thought for them,
and cared for them.
\"I had had the fever, and was but delicate; and Mrs. Thornton, and Mr.
Thornton too, they never rested till they had nursed me up in their ownhouse, and sent me to the sea and all. The doctors said the fever wascatching, but they cared none for that--only Miss Fanny, and she went a-visiting these folk that she is going to marry into. So, though she wasafraid at the time, it has all ended well.\"
\"Miss Fanny going to be married!\" exclaimed Margaret.
\"Yes; and to a rich gentleman, too, only he\"s a deal older than she is. Hisname is Watson; and his milk are somewhere out beyond Hayleigh; it\"sa very good marriage, for all he\"s got such gray hair.\"
At this piece of information, Margaret was silent long enough forMartha to recover her propriety, and, with it, her habitual shortness ofanswer. She swept up the hearth, asked at what time she should preparetea, and quitted the room with the same wooden face with which shehad entered it. Margaret had to pull herself up from indulging a badtrick, which she had lately fallen into, of trying to imagine how everyevent that she heard of in relation to Mr. Thornton would affect him:
whether he would like it or dislike it.
The next day she had the little Boucher children for their lessons, andtook a long walk, and ended by a visit to Mary Higgins. Somewhat toMargaret\"s surprise, she found Nicholas already come home from hiswork; the lengthening light had deceived her as to the lateness of theevening. He too seemed, by his manners, to have entered a little moreon the way of humility; he was quieter, and less self-asserting.
\"So th\" oud gentleman\"s away on his travels, is he?\" said he. \"Little \"unstelled me so. Eh! but they\"re sharp \"uns, they are; I a\"most think theybeat my own wenches for sharpness, though mappen it\"s wrong to sayso, and one on \"em in her grave. There\"s summut in th\" weather, Ireckon, as sets folk a-wandering. My measter, him at th\" shop yonder, isspinning about th\" world somewhere.\"
\"Is that the reason you\"re so soon at home to-night?\" asked Margaretinnocently.
\"Thou know\"st nought about it, that\"s all,\" said he, contemptuously. \"I\"mnot one wi\" two faces--one for my measter, and t\"other for his back. Icounted a\" th\" clocks in the town striking afore I\"d leave my work. No!
yon Thornton\"s good enough for to fight wi\", but too good for to becheated. It were you as getten me the place, and I thank yo\" for it.
Thornton\"s is not a bad mill, as times go. Stand down, lad, and say yo\"rpretty hymn to Miss Margaret. That\"s right; steady on thy legs, and rightarm out as straight as a shewer. One to stop, two to stay, three mak\"
ready, and four away!\"