When her father had driven off on his way to the railroad,

Margaret felt how great and long had been the pressure on her

time and her spirits. It was astonishing, almost stunning, to

feel herself so much at liberty; no one depending on her for

cheering care, if not for positive happiness; no invalid to plan

and think for; she might be idle, and silent, and forgetful,--and

what seemed worth more than all the other privileges--she might

be unhappy if she liked. For months past, all her own personal

cares and troubles had had to be stuffed away into a dark

cupboard; but now she had leisure to take them out, and mourn

over them, and study their nature, and seek the true method of

subduing them into the elements of peace. All these weeks she had

been conscious of their existence in a dull kind of way, though

they were hidden out of sight. Now, once for all she would

consider them, and appoint to each of them its right work in her

life. So she sat almost motionless for hours in the drawing-room,

going over the bitterness of every remembrance with an unwincing

resolution. Only once she cried aloud, at the stinging thought of

the faithlessness which gave birth to that abasing falsehood.

She now would not even acknowledge the force of the temptation;

her plans for Frederick had all failed, and the temptation lay

there a dead mockery,--a mockery which had never had life in it;

the lie had been so despicably foolish, seen by the light of the

ensuing events, and faith in the power of truth so infinitely the

greater wisdom!

In her nervous agitation, she unconsciously opened a book of her

father'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, mon pauvre coeur, nous

voila tombez dans la fosse, laquelle nous avions tant

resolu d' eschapper. Ah! relevons-nous, et quittons-la pour

jamais, reclamons la misericorde de Dieu, et esperons en

elle qu'elle nous assistera pour desormais estre plus

fermes; et remettons-nous au chemin de l'humilite. Courage,

soyons meshuy sur nos gardes, Dieu nous aydera.' 'The way of humility. Ah,' thought Margaret, 'that is what I have

missed! But courage, little heart. We will turn back, and by

God's help we may find the lost path.' So she rose up, and determined at once to set to on some work

which should take her out of herself. To begin with, she called

in Martha, as she passed the drawing-room door in going

up-stairs, and tried to find out what was below the grave,

respectful, servant-like manner, which crusted over her

individual character with an obedience that was almost

mechanical. She found it difficult to induce Martha to speak of

any of her personal interests; but at last she touched the right

chord, in naming Mrs. Thornton. Martha's whole face brightened,

and, on a little encouragement, out came a long story, of how her

father had been in early life connected with Mrs. Thornton's

husband--nay, had even been in a position to show him some

kindness; what, Martha hardly knew, for it had happened when she

was quite a little child; and circumstances had intervened to

separate the two families until Martha was nearly grown up, when,

her father having sunk lower and lower from his original

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.




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