She began hurriedly: 'I am so sorry Mr. Lennox is not here,--he could have done it so
much better than I can. He is my adviser in this'---'I am sorry that I came, if it troubles you. Shall I go to Mr.
Lennox's chambers and try and find him?' 'No, thank you. I wanted to tell you, how grieved I was to find
that I am to lose you as a tenant. But, Mr. Lennox says, things
are sure to brighten'---'Mr. Lennox knows little about it,' said Mr. Thornton quietly.
'Happy and fortunate in all a man cares for, he does not
understand what it is to find oneself no longer young--yet thrown
back to the starting-point which requires the hopeful energy of
youth--to feel one half of life gone, and nothing done--nothing
remaining of wasted opportunity, but the bitter recollection that
it has been. Miss Hale, I would rather not hear Mr. Lennox's
opinion of my affairs. Those who are happy and successful
themselves are too apt to make light of the misfortunes of
others.' 'You are unjust,' said Margaret, gently. 'Mr. Lennox has only
spoken of the great probability which he believes there to be of
your redeeming--your more than redeeming what you have
lost--don't speak till I have ended--pray don't!' And collecting
herself once more, she went on rapidly turning over some law
papers, and statements of accounts in a trembling hurried manner.
'Oh! here it is! and--he drew me out a proposal--I wish he was
here to explain it--showing that if you would take some money of
mine, eighteen thousand and fifty-seven pounds, lying just at
this moment unused in the bank, and bringing me in only two and a
half per cent.--you could pay me much better interest, and might
go on working Marlborough Mills.' Her voice had cleared itself
and become more steady. Mr. Thornton did not speak, and she went
on looking for some paper on which were written down the
proposals for security; for she was most anxious to have it all
looked upon in the light of a mere business arrangement, in which
the principal advantage would be on her side. While she sought
for this paper, her very heart-pulse was arrested by the tone in
which Mr. Thornton spoke. His voice was hoarse, and trembling
with tender passion, as he said:-'Margaret!' For an instant she looked up; and then sought to veil her
luminous eyes by dropping her forehead on her hands. Again,
stepping nearer, he besought her with another tremulous eager
call upon her name.
'Margaret!' Still lower went the head; more closely hidden was the face,
almost resting on the table before her. He came close to her. He
knelt by her side, to bring his face to a level with her ear; and
whispered-panted out the words:-'Take care.--If you do not speak--I shall claim you as my own in
some strange presumptuous way.--Send me away at once, if I must
go;--Margaret!--' At that third call she turned her face, still covered with her
small white hands, towards him, and laid it on his shoulder,
hiding it even there; and it was too delicious to feel her soft
cheek against his, for him to wish to see either deep blushes or
loving eyes. He clasped her close. But they both kept silence. At
length she murmured in a broken voice: 'Oh, Mr. Thornton, I am not good enough!' 'Not good enough! Don't mock my own deep feeling of
unworthiness.' After a minute or two, he gently disengaged her hands from her
face, and laid her arms as they had once before been placed to
protect him from the rioters.