'How tainted?' asked her father.
'Oh, papa, by that testing everything by the standard of wealth.
When he spoke of the mechanical powers, he evidently looked upon
them only as new ways of extending trade and making money. And
the poor men around him--they were poor because they were
vicious--out of the pale of his sympathies because they had not
his iron nature, and the capabilities that it gives him for being
rich.' 'Not vicious; he never said that. Improvident and self-indulgent
were his words.' Margaret was collecting her mother's working materials, and
preparing to go to bed. Just as she was leaving the room, she
hesitated--she was inclined to make an acknowledgment which she
thought would please her father, but which to be full and true
must include a little annoyance. However, out it came.
'Papa, I do think Mr. Thornton a very remarkable man; but
personally I don't like him at all.' 'And I do!' said her father laughing. 'Personally, as you call
it, and all. I don't set him up for a hero, or anything of that
kind. But good night, child. Your mother looks sadly tired
to-night, Margaret.' Margaret had noticed her mother's jaded appearance with anxiety
for some time past, and this remark of her father's sent her up
to bed with a dim fear lying like a weight on her heart. The life
in Milton was so different from what Mrs. Hale had been
accustomed to live in Helstone, in and out perpetually into the
fresh and open air; the air itself was so different, deprived of
all revivifying principle as it seemed to be here; the domestic
worries pressed so very closely, and in so new and sordid a form,
upon all the women in the family, that there was good reason to
fear that her mother's health might be becoming seriously
affected. There were several other signs of something wrong about
Mrs. Hale. She and Dixon held mysterious consultations in her
bedroom, from which Dixon would come out crying and cross, as was
her custom when any distress of her mistress called upon her
sympathy. Once Margaret had gone into the chamber soon after
Dixon left it, and found her mother on her knees, and as Margaret
stole out she caught a few words, which were evidently a prayer
for strength and patience to endure severe bodily suffering.
Margaret yearned to re-unite the bond of intimate confidence
which had been broken by her long residence at her aunt Shaw's,
and strove by gentle caresses and softened words to creep into
the warmest place in her mother's heart. But though she received
caresses and fond words back again, in such profusion as would
have gladdened her formerly, yet she felt that there was a secret
withheld from her, and she believed it bore serious reference to
her mother's health. She lay awake very long this night, planning
how to lessen the evil influence of their Milton life on her
mother. A servant to give Dixon permanent assistance should be
got, if she gave up her whole time to the search; and then, at
any rate, her mother might have all the personal attention she
required, and had been accustomed to her whole life. Visiting
register offices, seeing all manner of unlikely people, and very
few in the least likely, absorbed Margaret's time and thoughts
for several days. One afternoon she met Bessy Higgins in the
street, and stopped to speak to her.