'I see my way as birds their trackless way--

I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first,

I ask not: but unless God send his hail

Or blinding fire-balls, sleet, or stifling snow,

In some time--his good time--I shall arrive;

He guides me and the bird. In His good time!'

BROWNING'S PARACELSUS.

So the winter was getting on, and the days were beginning to

lengthen, without bringing with them any of the brightness of

hope which usually accompanies the rays of a February sun. Mrs.

Thornton had of course entirely ceased to come to the house. Mr.

Thornton came occasionally, but his visits were addressed to her

father, and were confined to the study. Mr. Hale spoke of him as

always the same; indeed, the very rarity of their intercourse

seemed to make Mr. Hale set only the higher value on it. And from

what Margaret could gather of what Mr. Thornton had said, there

was nothing in the cessation of his visits which could arise from

any umbrage or vexation. His business affairs had become

complicated during the strike, and required closer attention than

he had given to them last winter. Nay, Margaret could even

discover that he spoke from time to time of her, and always, as

far as she could learn, in the same calm friendly way, never

avoiding and never seeking any mention of her name.

She was not in spirits to raise her father's tone of mind. The

dreary peacefulness of the present time had been preceded by so

long a period of anxiety and care--even intermixed with

storms--that her mind had lost its elasticity. She tried to find

herself occupation in teaching the two younger Boucher children,

and worked hard at goodness; hard, I say most truly, for her

heart seemed dead to the end of all her efforts; and though she

made them punctually and painfully, yet she stood as far off as

ever from any cheerfulness; her life seemed still bleak and

dreary. The only thing she did well, was what she did out of

unconscious piety, the silent comforting and consoling of her

father. Not a mood of his but what found a ready sympathiser in

Margaret; not a wish of his that she did not strive to forecast,

and to fulfil. They were quiet wishes to be sure, and hardly

named without hesitation and apology. All the more complete and

beautiful was her meek spirit of obedience. March brought the

news of Frederick's marriage. He and Dolores wrote; she in

Spanish-English, as was but natural, and he with little turns and

inversions of words which proved how far the idioms of his

bride's country were infecting him.




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