'Edith says she finds the printed calicoes in Corfu better and

cheaper than in London.' 'Does she?' said her father. 'I think that must be one of Edith's

exaggerations. Are you sure of it, Margaret?' 'I am sure she says so, papa.' 'Then I am sure of the fact,' said Mr. Bell. 'Margaret, I go so

far in my idea of your truthfulness, that it shall cover your

cousin's character. I don't believe a cousin of yours could

exaggerate.' 'Is Miss Hale so remarkable for truth?' said Mr. Thornton,

bitterly. The moment he had done so, he could have bitten his

tongue out. What was he? And why should he stab her with her

shame in this way? How evil he was to-night; possessed by

ill-humour at being detained so long from her; irritated by the

mention of some name, because he thought it belonged to a more

successful lover; now ill-tempered because he had been unable to

cope, with a light heart, against one who was trying, by gay and

careless speeches, to make the evening pass pleasantly away,--the

kind old friend to all parties, whose manner by this time might

be well known to Mr. Thornton, who had been acquainted with him

for many years. And then to speak to Margaret as he had done! She

did not get up and leave the room, as she had done in former

days, when his abruptness or his temper had annoyed her. She sat

quite still, after the first momentary glance of grieved

surprise, that made her eyes look like some child's who has met

with an unexpected rebuff; they slowly dilated into mournful,

reproachful sadness; and then they fell, and she bent over her

work, and did not speak again. But he could not help looking at

her, and he saw a sigh tremble over her body, as if she quivered

in some unwonted chill. He felt as the mother would have done, in

the midst of 'her rocking it, and rating it,' had she been called

away before her slow confiding smile, implying perfect trust in

mother's love, had proved the renewing of its love. He gave short

sharp answers; he was uneasy and cross, unable to discern between

jest and earnest; anxious only for a look, a word of hers, before

which to prostrate himself in penitent humility. But she neither

looked nor spoke. Her round taper fingers flew in and out of her

sewing, as steadily and swiftly as if that were the business of

her life. She could not care for him, he thought, or else the

passionate fervour of his wish would have forced her to raise

those eyes, if but for an instant, to read the late repentance in

his. He could have struck her before he left, in order that by

some strange overt act of rudeness, he might earn the privilege

of telling her the remorse that gnawed at his heart. It was well

that the long walk in the open air wound up this evening for him.

It sobered him back into grave resolution, that henceforth he

would see as little of her as possible,--since the very sight of

that face arid form, the very sounds of that voice (like the soft

winds of pure melody) had such power to move him from his

balance. Well! He had known what love was--a sharp pang, a fierce

experience, in the midst of whose flames he was struggling! but,

through that furnace he would fight his way out into the serenity

of middle age,--all the richer and more human for having known

this great passion.




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