The fine Crisp morning made her mother feel particularly well and

happy at breakfast-time. She talked on, planning village

kindnesses, unheeding the silence of her husband and the

monosyllabic answers of Margaret. Before the things were cleared

away, Mr. Hale got up; he leaned one hand on the table, as if to

support himself: 'I shall not be at home till evening. I am going to Bracy Common,

and will ask Farmer Dobson to give me something for dinner. I

shall be back to tea at seven.' He did not look at either of

them, but Margaret knew what he meant. By seven the announcement

must be made to her mother. Mr. Hale would have delayed making it

till half-past six, but Margaret was of different stuff. She

could not bear the impending weight on her mind all the day long:

better get the worst over; the day would be too short to comfort

her mother. But while she stood by the window, thinking how to

begin, and waiting for the servant to have left the room, her

mother had gone up-stairs to put on her things to go to the

school. She came down ready equipped, in a brisker mood than

usual.

'Mother, come round the garden with me this morning; just one

turn,' said Margaret, putting her arm round Mrs. Hale's waist.

They passed through the open window. Mrs. Hale spoke--said

something--Margaret could not tell what. Her eye caught on a bee

entering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth with his

spoil she would begin--that should be the sign. Out he came.

'Mamma! Papa is going to leave Helstone!' she blurted forth.

'He's going to leave the Church, and live in Milton-Northern.'

There were the three hard facts hardly spoken.

'What makes you say so?' asked Mrs. Hale, in a surprised

incredulous voice. 'Who has been telling you such nonsense?' 'Papa himself,' said Margaret, longing to say something gentle

and consoling, but literally not knowing how. They were close to

a garden-bench. Mrs. Hale sat down, and began to cry.

'I don't understand you,' she said. 'Either you have made some

great mistake, or I don't quite understand you.' 'No, mother, I have made no mistake. Papa has written to the

bishop, saying that he has such doubts that he cannot

conscientiously remain a priest of the Church of England, and

that he must give up Helstone. He has also consulted Mr.

Bell--Frederick's godfather, you know, mamma; and it is arranged

that we go to live in Milton-Northern.' Mrs. Hale looked up in

Margaret's face all the time she was speaking these words: the

shadow on her countenance told that she, at least, believed in

the truth of what she said.




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