{"id":319,"date":"2021-05-20T12:57:20","date_gmt":"2021-05-20T16:57:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/northandsouth\/chapter\/chapter-xxxviii\/"},"modified":"2022-02-03T11:01:46","modified_gmt":"2022-02-03T16:01:46","slug":"38","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/chapter\/38\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter XXXVIII: Promises fulfilled","rendered":"Chapter XXXVIII: Promises fulfilled"},"content":{"raw":"
\"<\/span>Then proudly, proudly up she rose,\r\nTho' the tear was in her e'e,<\/span>\r\n'Whate'er ye say, think what ye may,\r\nYe's get na word frae me!\"<\/span>\r\nScotch Ballad.<\/span><\/span><\/blockquote>\r\nIt was not merely that Margaret was known to Mr. Thornton to have spoken falsely,\u2014though she imagined that for this reason only was she so turned in his opinion,\u2014but that this falsehood of hers bore a distinct reference in his mind to some other lover. He could not forget the fond and earnest look that had passed between her and some other man\u2014the attitude of familiar confidence, if not of positive endearment. The thought of this perpetually stung him; it was a picture before his eyes, wherever he went and whatever he was doing. In addition to this (and he ground his teeth as he remembered it), was the hour, dusky twilight; the place, so far away from home, and comparatively unfrequented. His nobler self had said at first, that all this last might be accidental, innocent, justifiable; but once allow her right to love and be beloved (and had he any reason to deny her right?\u2014had not her words been severely explicit when she cast his love away from her?), she might easily have been beguiled into a longer walk, on to a later hour than she had anticipated. But that falsehood! which showed a fatal consciousness of something wrong, and to be concealed, which was unlike her. He did her that justice, though all the time it would have been a relief to believe her utterly unworthy of his esteem. It was this that made the misery\u2014that he passionately loved her, and thought her, even with all her faults, more lovely and more excellent than any other woman; yet he deemed her so attached to some other man, so led away by her affection for him as to violate her truthful nature. The very falsehood that stained her, was a proof how blindly she loved another\u2014this dark, slight, elegant, handsome man\u2014while he himself was rough, and stern, and strongly made. He lashed himself into an agony of fierce jealousy. He thought of that look, that attitude!\u2014how he would have laid his life at her feet for such tender glances, such fond detention! He mocked at himself, for having valued the mechanical way in which she had protected him from the fury of the mob; now he had seen how soft and bewitching she looked when with a man she really loved. He remembered, point by point, the sharpness of her words\u2014\u201dThere was not a man in all that crowd for whom she would not have done as much, far more readily than for him.\u201d He shared with the mob, in her desire of averting bloodshed from them; but this man, this hidden lover, shared with nobody; he had looks, words, hand-cleavings, lies, concealment, all to himself.\r\n\r\nMr. Thornton was conscious that he had never been so irritable as he was now, in all his life long; he felt inclined to give a short abrupt answer, more like a bark than a speech, to every one that asked him a question; and this consciousness hurt his pride he had always piqued himself on his self-control, and control himself he would. So the manner was subdued to a quiet deliberation, but the matter was even harder and sterner than common. He was more than usually silent at home; employing his evenings in a continual pace backwards and forwards, which would have annoyed his mother exceedingly if it had been practised by any one else; and did not tend to promote any forbearance on her part even to this beloved son.\r\n\r\n\u201cCan you stop\u2014can you sit down for a moment? I have something to say to you, if you would give up that everlasting walk, walk, walk.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe sat down instantly, on a chair against the wall.\r\n\r\n\u201cI want to speak to you about Betsy. She says she must leave us; that her lover's death has so affected her spirits she can't give her heart to her work.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cVery well. I suppose other cooks are to be met with.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat's so like a man. It's not merely the cooking, it is that she knows all the ways of the house. Besides, she tells me something about your friend Miss Hale.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMiss Hale is no friend of mine. Mr. Hale is my friend.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI am glad to hear you say so, for if she had been your friend, what Betsy says would have annoyed you.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cLet me hear it,\u201d said he, with the extreme quietness of manner he had been assuming for the last few days.\r\n\r\n\u201cBetsy says, that the night on which her lover\u2014I forget his name\u2014for she always calls him \u2018he\u2019\u2014\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cLeonards.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe night on which Leonards was last seen at the station\u2014when he was last seen on duty, in fact\u2014Miss Hale was there, walking about with a young man who, Betsy believes, killed Leonards by some blow or push.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cLeonards was not killed by any blow or push.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBecause I distinctly put the question to the surgeon of the Infirmary. He told me there was an internal disease of long standing, caused by Leonards' habit of drinking to excess; that the fact of his becoming rapidly worse while in a state of intoxication, settled the question as to whether the last fatal attack was caused by excess of drinking, or the fall.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe fall! What fall?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cCaused by the blow or push of which Betsy speaks.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThen there was a blow or push?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI believe so.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd who did it?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAs there was no inquest, in consequence of the doctor's opinion, I cannot tell you.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut Miss Hale was there?\u201d\r\n\r\nNo answer.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd with a young man?\u201d\r\n\r\nStill no answer. At last he said: \u201cI tell you, mother, that there was no inquest\u2014no inquiry. No judicial inquiry, I mean.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBetsy says that Woolmer (some man she knows, who is in a grocer's shop out at Crampton) can swear that Miss Hale was at the station at that hour, walking backwards and forwards with a young man.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI don't see what we have to do with that. Miss Hale is at liberty to please herself.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI'm glad to hear you say so,\u201d said Mrs. Thornton, eagerly. \u201cIt certainly signifies very little to us\u2014not at all to you, after what has passed! but I\u2014I made a promise to Mrs. Hale, that I would not allow her daughter to go wrong without advising and remonstrating with her. I shall certainly let her know my opinion of such conduct.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI do not see any harm in what she did that evening,\u201d said Mr. Thornton, getting up, and coming near to his mother; he stood by the chimney-piece with his face turned away from the room.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou would not have approved of Fanny's being seen out, after dark, in rather a lonely place, walking about with a young man. I say nothing of the taste which could choose the time, when her mother lay unburied, for such a promenade. Should you have liked your sister to have been noticed by a grocer's assistant for doing so?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIn the first place, as it is not many years since I myself was a draper's assistant, the mere circumstance of a grocer's assistant noticing any act does not alter the character of the act to me. And in the next place, I see a great deal of difference between Miss Hale and Fanny. I can imagine that the one may have weighty reasons, which may and ought to make her overlook any seeming Impropriety in her conduct. I never knew Fanny have weighty reasons for anything. Other people must guard her. I believe Miss Hale is a guardian to herself.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cA pretty character of your sister, indeed! Really, John, one would have thought Miss Hale had done enough to make you clear-sighted. She drew you on to an offer, by a bold display of pretended regard for you,\u2014to play you off against this very young man, I've no doubt. Her whole conduct is clear to me now. You believe he is her lover, I suppose\u2014you agree to that.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe turned round to his mother; his face was very gray and grim. \u201cYes, mother. I do believe he is her lover.\u201d When he had spoken, he turned round again; he writhed himself about, like one in bodily pain. He leant his face against his hand. Then before she could speak, he turned sharp again:\r\n\r\n\u201cMother. He is her lover, whoever he is; but she may need help and womanly counsel;\u2014there may be difficulties or temptations which I don't know. I fear there are. I don't want to know what they are; but as you have ever been a good\u2014ay! and a tender mother to me, go to her, and gain her confidence, and tell her what is best to be done. I know that something is wrong; some dread, must be a terrible torture to her.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFor God's sake, John!\u201d said his mother, now really shocked, \u201cwhat do you mean? What do you mean? What do you know?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe did not reply to her.\r\n\r\n\u201cJohn! I don't know what I shan't think unless you speak. You have no right to say what you have done against her.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNot against her, mother! I\u00a0could<\/em>\u00a0not speak against her.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell! you have no right to say what you have done, unless you say more. These half-expressions are what ruin a woman's character.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHer character! Mother, you do not dare\u2014\u201d he faced about, and looked into her face with his flaming eyes. Then, drawing himself up into determined composure and dignity, he said, \u201cI will not say any more than this, which is neither more nor less than the simple truth, and I am sure you believe me,\u2014I have good reason to believe, that Miss Hale is in some strait and difficulty connected with an attachment which, of itself, from my knowledge of Miss Hale's character, is perfectly innocent and right. What my reason is, I refuse to tell. But never let me hear any one say a word against her, implying any more serious imputation than that she now needs the counsel of some kind and gentle woman. You promised Mrs. Hale to be that woman!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo!\u201d said Mrs. Thornton. \u201cI am happy to say, I did not promise kindness and gentleness, for I felt at the time that it might be out of my power to render these to one of Miss Hale's character and disposition. I promised counsel and advice, such as I would give to my own daughter; I shall speak to her as I would do to Fanny, if she had gone gallivanting with a young man in the dusk. I shall speak with relation to the circumstances I know, without being influenced either one way or another by the \u2018strong reasons\u2019 which you will not confide to me. Then I shall have fulfilled my promise, and done my duty.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cShe will never bear it,\u201d said he passionately.\r\n\r\n\u201cShe will have to bear it, if I speak in her dead mother's name.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell!\u201d said he, breaking away, \u201cdon't tell me any more about it. I cannot endure to think of it. It will be better that you should speak to her any way, than that she should not be spoken to at all.\u2014Oh! that look of love!\u201d continued he, between his teeth, as he bolted himself into his own private room. \u201cAnd that cursed lie; which showed some terrible shame in the background, to be kept from the light in which I thought she lived perpetually! Oh, Margaret, Margaret! Mother, how you have tortured me! Oh! Margaret, could you not have loved me? I am but uncouth and hard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for me.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe more Mrs. Thornton thought over what her son had said, in pleading for a merciful judgment for Margaret's indiscretion, the more bitterly she felt inclined towards her. She took a savage pleasure in the idea of \u201cspeaking her mind\u201d to her, in the guise of fulfilment of a duty. She enjoyed the thought of showing herself untouched by the \u201cglamour,\u201d which she was well aware Margaret had the power of throwing over many people. She snorted scornfully over the picture of the beauty of her victim; her jet black hair, her clear smooth skin, her lucid eyes would not help to save her one word of the just and stern reproach which Mrs. Thornton spent half the night in preparing to her mind.\r\n\r\n\u201cIs Miss Hale within?\u201d She knew she was, for she had seen her at the window, and she had her feet inside the little hall before Martha had half answered her question.\r\n\r\nMargaret was sitting alone, writing to Edith, and giving her many particulars of her mother's last days. It was a softening employment, and she had to brush away the unbidden tears as Mrs. Thornton was announced.\r\n\r\nShe was so gentle and ladylike in her mode of reception that her visitor was somewhat daunted; and it became impossible to utter the speech, so easy of arrangement with no one to address it to. Margaret's low rich voice was softer than usual; her manner more gracious, because in her heart she was feeling very grateful to Mrs. Thornton for the courteous attention of her call. She exerted herself to find subjects of interest for conversation; praised Martha, the servant whom Mrs. Thornton had found for them; had asked Edith for a little Greek air, about which she had spoken to Miss Thornton. Mrs. Thornton was fairly discomfited. Her sharp Damascus blade seemed out of place, and useless among rose-leaves. She was silent, because she was trying to task herself up to her duty At last, she stung herself into its performance by a suspicion which, in spite of all probability, she allowed to cross her mind, that all this sweetness was put on with a view of propitiating Mr. Thornton; that, somehow, the other attachment had fallen through, and that it suited Miss Hale's purpose to recall her rejected lover. Poor Margaret! there was perhaps so much truth in the suspicion as this: that Mrs. Thornton was the mother of one whose regard she valued, and feared to have lost; and this thought unconsciously added to her natural desire of pleasing one who was showing her kindness by her visit. Mrs. Thornton stood up to go, but yet she seemed to have something more to say. She cleared her throat and began:\r\n\r\n\u201cMiss Hale, I have a duty to perform. I promised your poor mother that, as far as my poor judgment went, I would not allow you to act in any way wrongly, or (she softened her speech down a little here) inadvertently, without remonstrating; at least, without offering advice, whether you took it or not.\u201d\r\n\r\nMargaret stood before her, blushing like any culprit, with her eyes dilating as she gazed at Mrs. Thornton. She thought she had come to speak to her about the falsehood she had told\u2014that Mr. Thornton had employed her to explain the danger she had exposed herself to, of being confuted in full court! and although her heart sank to think he had not rather chosen to come himself, and upbraid her, and receive her penitence, and restore her again to his good opinion, yet she was too much humbled not to bear any blame on this subject patiently and meekly.\r\n\r\nMrs. Thornton went on:\r\n\r\n\u201cAt first, when I heard from one of my servants, that you had been seen walking about with a gentleman, so far from home as the Outwood station, at such a time of the evening, I could hardly believe it. But my son, I am sorry to say, confirmed her story. It was indiscreet, to say the least; many a young woman has lost her character before now\u2014\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\nMargaret's eyes flashed fire. This was a new idea\u2014this was too insulting. If Mrs. Thornton had spoken to her about the lie she had told, well and good\u2014she would have owned it, and humiliated herself But to interfere with her conduct\u2014to speak of her character! she\u2014Mrs. Thornton, a mere stranger\u2014it was too impertinent! She would not answer her\u2014not one word. Mrs. Thornton saw the battle-spirit in Margaret's eyes, and it called up her combativeness also.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor your mother's sake, I have thought it right to warn you against such improprieties; they must degrade you in the long run in the estimation of the world, even if in fact they do not lead you to positive harm.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFor my mother's sake,\u201d said Margaret, in a tearful voice, \u201cI will bear much; but I cannot bear everything. She never meant me to be exposed to insult, I am sure.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cInsult, Miss Hale!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, madam,\u201d said Margaret more steadily, \u201cit is insult. What do you know of me that should lead you to suspect\u2014Oh!\u201d said she, breaking down, and covering her face with her hands\u2014\u201dI know now, Mr. Thornton has told you\u2014\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, Miss Hale,\u201d said Mrs. Thornton, her truthfulness causing her to arrest the confession Margaret was on the point of making, though her curiosity was itching to hear it. 'Stop. Mr. Thornton has told me nothing. You do not know my son. You are not worthy to know him. He said this. Listen, young lady, that you may understand, if you can, what sort of a man you rejected. This Milton manufacturer, his great tender heart scorned as it was scorned, said to me only last night, \u2018Go to her. I have good reason to know that she is in some strait, arising out of some attachment; and she needs womanly counsel.\u2019 I believe those were his very words. Farther than that\u2014beyond admitting the fact of your being at the Outwood station with a gentleman, on the evening of the twenty-sixth\u2014he has said nothing\u2014not one word against you. If he has knowledge of anything which should make you sob so, he keeps it to himself.\u201d\r\n\r\nMargaret's face was still hidden in her hands, the fingers of which were wet with tears. Mrs. Thornton was a little mollified.\r\n\r\n\u201cCome, Miss Hale. There may be circumstances, I'll allow, that, if explained, may take off from the seeming impropriety.\u201d\r\n\r\nStill no answer. Margaret was considering what to say; she wished to stand well with Mrs. Thornton; and yet she could not, might not, give any explanation. Mrs. Thornton grew impatient.\r\n\r\n\u201cI shall be sorry to break off an acquaintance; but for Fanny's sake\u2014as I told my son, if Fanny had done so we should consider it a great disgrace\u2014and Fanny might be led away\u2014\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI can give you no explanation,\u201d said Margaret, in a low voice. \u201cI have done wrong, but not in the way you think or know about. I think Mr. Thornton judges me more mercifully than you;\u201d\u2014she had hard work to keep herself from choking with her tears\u2014\u201dbut, I believe, madam, you mean to do rightly.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said Mrs. Thornton, drawing herself up; \u201cI was not aware that my meaning was doubted. It is the last time I shall interfere. I was unwilling to consent to do it, when your mother asked me. I had not approved of my son's attachment to you, while I only suspected it. You did not appear to me worthy of him. But when you compromised yourself as you did at the time of the riot, and exposed yourself to the comments of servants and workpeople, I felt it was no longer right to set myself against my son's wish of proposing to you\u2014a wish, by the way, which he had always denied entertaining until the day of the riot.\u201d Margaret winced, and drew in her breath with a long, hissing sound; of which, however, Mrs. Thornton took no notice. \u201cHe came; you had apparently changed your mind. I told my son yesterday, that I thought it possible, short as was the interval, you might have heard or learnt something of this other lover\u2014\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat must you think of me, madam?\u201d asked Margaret, throwing her head back with proud disdain, till her throat curved outwards like a swan's. \u201cYou can say nothing more, Mrs. Thornton. I decline every attempt to justify myself for anything. You must allow me to leave the room.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she swept out of it with the noiseless grace of an offended princess. Mrs. Thornton had quite enough of natural humour to make her feel the ludicrousness of the position in which she was left. There was nothing for it but to show herself out. She was not particularly annoyed at Margaret's way of behaving. She did not care enough for her for that. She had taken Mrs. Thornton's remonstrance to the full as keenly to heart as that lady expected; and Margaret's passion at once mollified her visitor, far more than any silence or reserve could have done. It showed the effect of her words. \u201cMy young lady,\u201d thought Mrs. Thornton to herself; \u201cyou've a pretty good temper of your own. If John and you had come together, he would have had to keep a tight hand over you, to make you know your place. But I don't think you will go a-walking again with your beau, at such an hour of the day, in a hurry. You've too much pride and spirit in you for that. I like to see a girl fly out at the notion of being talked about. It shows they're neither giddy, nor hold by nature. As for that girl, she might be hold, but she'd never be giddy. I'll do her that justice. Now as to Fanny, she'd be giddy, and not bold. She's no courage in her, poor thing!\u201d\r\n\r\nMr. Thornton was not spending the morning so satisfactorily as his mother. She, at any rate, was fulfilling her determined purpose. He was trying to understand where he stood; what damage the strike had done him. A good deal of his capital was locked up in new and expensive machinery; and he had also bought cotton largely, with a view to some great orders which he had in hand. The strike had thrown him terribly behindhand, as to the completion of these orders. Even with his own accustomed and skilled workpeople, he would have had some difficulty in fulfilling his engagements; as it was, the incompetence of the Irish hands, who had to be trained to their work, at a time requiring unusual activity, was a daily annoyance.\r\n\r\nIt was not a favourable hour for Higgins to make his request. But he had promised Margaret to do it at any cost. So, though every moment added to his repugnance, his pride, and his sullenness of temper, he stood leaning against the dead wall, hour after hour, first on one leg, then on the other. At last the latch was sharply lifted, and out came Mr. Thornton.\r\n\r\n\u201cI want for to speak to yo', sir.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cCan't stay now, my man. I'm too late as it is.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, sir, I reckon I can wait till yo' come back.\u201d\r\n\r\nMr. Thornton was half way down the street. Higgins sighed. But it was no use. To catch him in the street was his only chance of seeing \u201cthe measter;\u201d if he had rung the lodge bell, or even gone up to the house to ask for him, he would have been referred to the overlooker. So he stood still again, vouchsafing no answer, but a short nod of recognition to the few men who knew and spoke to him, as the crowd drove out of the millyard at dinner-time, and scowling with all his might at the Irish \u201cknobsticks\u201d who had just been imported. At last Mr. Thornton returned.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat! you there still!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAy, sir. I mun speak to yo'.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cCome in here, then. Stay, we'll go across the yard; the men are not come back, and we shall have it to ourselves. These good people, I see, are at dinner;\u201d said he, closing the door of the porter's lodge.\r\n\r\nHe stopped to speak to the overlooker. The latter said in a low tone:\r\n\r\n\u201cI suppose you know, sir, that that man is Higgins, one of the leaders of the Union; he that made that speech in Hurstfield.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, I didn't,\u201d said Mr. Thornton, looking round sharply at his follower. Higgins was known to him by name as a turbulent spirit.\r\n\r\n\u201cCome along,\u201d said he, and his tone was rougher than before. \u201cIt is men such as this,\u201d thought he, \u201cwho interrupt commerce and injure the very town they live in: mere demagogues, lovers of power, at whatever cost to others.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, sir! what do you want with me?\u201d said Mr. Thornton, facing round at him, as soon as they were in the counting-house of the mill.\r\n\r\n\u201cMy name is Higgins\u201d\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cI know that,\u201d broke in Mr. Thornton. \u201cWhat do you want, Mr. Higgins? That's the question.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI want work.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWork! You're a pretty chap to come asking me for work. You don't want impudence, that's very clear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI've getten enemies and backbiters, like my betters; but I ne'er heerd o' ony of them calling me o'er-modest,\u201d said Higgins. His blood was a little roused by Mr. Thornton's manner, more than by his words.\r\n\r\nMr. Thornton saw a letter addressed to himself on the table. He took it up and read it through. At the end, he looked up and said, \u201cWhat are you waiting for?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAn answer to the question I axed.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI gave it you before. Don't waste any more of your time.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYo' made a remark, sir, on my impudence: but I were taught that it was manners to say either \u2018yes\u2019 or \u2018no,\u2019 when I were axed a civil question. I should be thankfu' to yo' if yo'd give me work. Hamper will speak to my being a good hand.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI've a notion you'd better not send me to Hamper to ask for a character, my man. I might hear more than you'd like.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI'd take th' risk. Worst they could say of me is, that I did what I thought best, even to my own wrong.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou'd better go and try them, then, and see whether they'll give you work. I've turned off upwards of a hundred of my best hands, for no other fault than following you and such as you; and d'ye think I'll take you on? I might as well put a firebrand into the midst of the cotton-waste.\u201d\r\n\r\nHiggins turned away; then the recollection of Boucher came over him, and he faced round with the greatest concession he could persuade himself to make.\r\n\r\n\u201cI'd promise yo', measter, I'd not speak a word as could do harm, if so be yo' did right by us; and I'd promise more: I'd promise that when I seed yo' going wrong, and acting unfair, I'd speak to yo' in private first; and that would be a fair warning. If yo' and I did na agree in our opinion o' your conduct, yo' might turn me off at an hour's notice.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cUpon my word, you don't think small beer of yourself! Hamper has had a loss of you. How came he to let you and your wisdom go?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, we parted wi' mutual dissatisfaction. I wouldn't gi'e the pledge they were asking; and they wouldn't have me at no rate. So I'm free to make another engagement; and as I said before, though I should na' say it, I'm a good hand, measter, and a steady man\u2014specially when I can keep fro' drink; and that I shall do now, if I ne'er did afore.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat you may have more money laid up for another strike, I suppose?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo! I'd be thankful if I was free to do that; it's for to keep th' widow and childer of a man who was drove mad by them knobsticks o' yourn; put out of his place by a Paddy that did na know weft fro' warp.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell! you'd better turn to something else, if you've any such good intention in your head. I shouldn't advise you to stay in Milton: you're too well known here.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIf it were summer,\u201d said Higgins, \u201cI'd take to Paddy's work, and go as a navvy, or haymaking, or summut, and ne'er see Milton again. But it's winter, and th' childer will clem.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cA pretty navvy you'd make! why, you couldn't do half a day's work at digging against an Irishman.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI'd only charge half-a-day for th' twelve hours, if I could only do half-a-day's work in th' time. Yo're not knowing of any place, where they could gi' me a trial, away fro' the mills, if I'm such a firebrand? I'd take any wage they thought I was worth, for the sake of those childer.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDon't you see what you would be? You'd be a knobstick. You'd be taking less wages than the other labourers\u2014all for the sake of another man's children. Think how you'd abuse any poor fellow who was willing to take what he could get to keep his own children. You and your Union would soon be down upon him. No! no! if it's only for the recollection of the way in which you've used the poor knobsticks before now, I say No! to your question. I'll not give you work. I won't say, I don't believe your pretext for coming and asking for work; I know nothing about it. It may be true, or it may not. It's a very unlikely story, at any rate. Let me pass. I'll not give you work. There's your answer.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI hear, sir. I would na ha' troubled yo', but that I were bid to come, by one as seemed to think yo'd getten some soft place in, yo'r heart. Hoo were mistook, and I were misled. But I'm not the first man as is misled by a woman.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cTell her to mind her own business the next time, instead of taking up your time and mine too. I believe women are at the bottom of every plague in this world. Be off with you.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI'm obleeged to yo' for a' yo'r kindness, measter, and most of a' for yo'r civil way o' saying good-bye.\u201d\r\n\r\nMr. Thornton did not deign a reply. But, looking out of the window a minute after, he was struck with the lean, bent figure going out of the yard: the heavy walk was in strange contrast with the resolute, clear determination of the man to speak to him. He crossed to the porter's lodge:\r\n\r\n\u201cHow long has that man Higgins been waiting to speak to me?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHe was outside the gate before eight o'clock, sir. I think he's been there ever since.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd it is now\u2014?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cJust one, sir.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFive hours,\u201d thought Mr. Thornton; \u201cit's a long time for a man to wait, doing nothing but first hoping and then fearing.\u201d","rendered":"

“<\/span>Then proudly, proudly up she rose,
\nTho’ the tear was in her e’e,<\/span>
\n‘Whate’er ye say, think what ye may,
\nYe’s get na word frae me!”<\/span>
\nScotch Ballad.<\/span><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It was not merely that Margaret was known to Mr. Thornton to have spoken falsely,\u2014though she imagined that for this reason only was she so turned in his opinion,\u2014but that this falsehood of hers bore a distinct reference in his mind to some other lover. He could not forget the fond and earnest look that had passed between her and some other man\u2014the attitude of familiar confidence, if not of positive endearment. The thought of this perpetually stung him; it was a picture before his eyes, wherever he went and whatever he was doing. In addition to this (and he ground his teeth as he remembered it), was the hour, dusky twilight; the place, so far away from home, and comparatively unfrequented. His nobler self had said at first, that all this last might be accidental, innocent, justifiable; but once allow her right to love and be beloved (and had he any reason to deny her right?\u2014had not her words been severely explicit when she cast his love away from her?), she might easily have been beguiled into a longer walk, on to a later hour than she had anticipated. But that falsehood! which showed a fatal consciousness of something wrong, and to be concealed, which was unlike her. He did her that justice, though all the time it would have been a relief to believe her utterly unworthy of his esteem. It was this that made the misery\u2014that he passionately loved her, and thought her, even with all her faults, more lovely and more excellent than any other woman; yet he deemed her so attached to some other man, so led away by her affection for him as to violate her truthful nature. The very falsehood that stained her, was a proof how blindly she loved another\u2014this dark, slight, elegant, handsome man\u2014while he himself was rough, and stern, and strongly made. He lashed himself into an agony of fierce jealousy. He thought of that look, that attitude!\u2014how he would have laid his life at her feet for such tender glances, such fond detention! He mocked at himself, for having valued the mechanical way in which she had protected him from the fury of the mob; now he had seen how soft and bewitching she looked when with a man she really loved. He remembered, point by point, the sharpness of her words\u2014\u201dThere was not a man in all that crowd for whom she would not have done as much, far more readily than for him.\u201d He shared with the mob, in her desire of averting bloodshed from them; but this man, this hidden lover, shared with nobody; he had looks, words, hand-cleavings, lies, concealment, all to himself.<\/p>\n

Mr. Thornton was conscious that he had never been so irritable as he was now, in all his life long; he felt inclined to give a short abrupt answer, more like a bark than a speech, to every one that asked him a question; and this consciousness hurt his pride he had always piqued himself on his self-control, and control himself he would. So the manner was subdued to a quiet deliberation, but the matter was even harder and sterner than common. He was more than usually silent at home; employing his evenings in a continual pace backwards and forwards, which would have annoyed his mother exceedingly if it had been practised by any one else; and did not tend to promote any forbearance on her part even to this beloved son.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you stop\u2014can you sit down for a moment? I have something to say to you, if you would give up that everlasting walk, walk, walk.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sat down instantly, on a chair against the wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to speak to you about Betsy. She says she must leave us; that her lover’s death has so affected her spirits she can’t give her heart to her work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well. I suppose other cooks are to be met with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat’s so like a man. It’s not merely the cooking, it is that she knows all the ways of the house. Besides, she tells me something about your friend Miss Hale.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss Hale is no friend of mine. Mr. Hale is my friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am glad to hear you say so, for if she had been your friend, what Betsy says would have annoyed you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me hear it,\u201d said he, with the extreme quietness of manner he had been assuming for the last few days.<\/p>\n

\u201cBetsy says, that the night on which her lover\u2014I forget his name\u2014for she always calls him \u2018he\u2019\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLeonards.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe night on which Leonards was last seen at the station\u2014when he was last seen on duty, in fact\u2014Miss Hale was there, walking about with a young man who, Betsy believes, killed Leonards by some blow or push.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLeonards was not killed by any blow or push.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I distinctly put the question to the surgeon of the Infirmary. He told me there was an internal disease of long standing, caused by Leonards’ habit of drinking to excess; that the fact of his becoming rapidly worse while in a state of intoxication, settled the question as to whether the last fatal attack was caused by excess of drinking, or the fall.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe fall! What fall?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCaused by the blow or push of which Betsy speaks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen there was a blow or push?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI believe so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd who did it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs there was no inquest, in consequence of the doctor’s opinion, I cannot tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Miss Hale was there?\u201d<\/p>\n

No answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd with a young man?\u201d<\/p>\n

Still no answer. At last he said: \u201cI tell you, mother, that there was no inquest\u2014no inquiry. No judicial inquiry, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetsy says that Woolmer (some man she knows, who is in a grocer’s shop out at Crampton) can swear that Miss Hale was at the station at that hour, walking backwards and forwards with a young man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don’t see what we have to do with that. Miss Hale is at liberty to please herself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m glad to hear you say so,\u201d said Mrs. Thornton, eagerly. \u201cIt certainly signifies very little to us\u2014not at all to you, after what has passed! but I\u2014I made a promise to Mrs. Hale, that I would not allow her daughter to go wrong without advising and remonstrating with her. I shall certainly let her know my opinion of such conduct.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do not see any harm in what she did that evening,\u201d said Mr. Thornton, getting up, and coming near to his mother; he stood by the chimney-piece with his face turned away from the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou would not have approved of Fanny’s being seen out, after dark, in rather a lonely place, walking about with a young man. I say nothing of the taste which could choose the time, when her mother lay unburied, for such a promenade. Should you have liked your sister to have been noticed by a grocer’s assistant for doing so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the first place, as it is not many years since I myself was a draper’s assistant, the mere circumstance of a grocer’s assistant noticing any act does not alter the character of the act to me. And in the next place, I see a great deal of difference between Miss Hale and Fanny. I can imagine that the one may have weighty reasons, which may and ought to make her overlook any seeming Impropriety in her conduct. I never knew Fanny have weighty reasons for anything. Other people must guard her. I believe Miss Hale is a guardian to herself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA pretty character of your sister, indeed! Really, John, one would have thought Miss Hale had done enough to make you clear-sighted. She drew you on to an offer, by a bold display of pretended regard for you,\u2014to play you off against this very young man, I’ve no doubt. Her whole conduct is clear to me now. You believe he is her lover, I suppose\u2014you agree to that.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned round to his mother; his face was very gray and grim. \u201cYes, mother. I do believe he is her lover.\u201d When he had spoken, he turned round again; he writhed himself about, like one in bodily pain. He leant his face against his hand. Then before she could speak, he turned sharp again:<\/p>\n

\u201cMother. He is her lover, whoever he is; but she may need help and womanly counsel;\u2014there may be difficulties or temptations which I don’t know. I fear there are. I don’t want to know what they are; but as you have ever been a good\u2014ay! and a tender mother to me, go to her, and gain her confidence, and tell her what is best to be done. I know that something is wrong; some dread, must be a terrible torture to her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor God’s sake, John!\u201d said his mother, now really shocked, \u201cwhat do you mean? What do you mean? What do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

He did not reply to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cJohn! I don’t know what I shan’t think unless you speak. You have no right to say what you have done against her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot against her, mother! I\u00a0could<\/em>\u00a0not speak against her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell! you have no right to say what you have done, unless you say more. These half-expressions are what ruin a woman’s character.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHer character! Mother, you do not dare\u2014\u201d he faced about, and looked into her face with his flaming eyes. Then, drawing himself up into determined composure and dignity, he said, \u201cI will not say any more than this, which is neither more nor less than the simple truth, and I am sure you believe me,\u2014I have good reason to believe, that Miss Hale is in some strait and difficulty connected with an attachment which, of itself, from my knowledge of Miss Hale’s character, is perfectly innocent and right. What my reason is, I refuse to tell. But never let me hear any one say a word against her, implying any more serious imputation than that she now needs the counsel of some kind and gentle woman. You promised Mrs. Hale to be that woman!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d said Mrs. Thornton. \u201cI am happy to say, I did not promise kindness and gentleness, for I felt at the time that it might be out of my power to render these to one of Miss Hale’s character and disposition. I promised counsel and advice, such as I would give to my own daughter; I shall speak to her as I would do to Fanny, if she had gone gallivanting with a young man in the dusk. I shall speak with relation to the circumstances I know, without being influenced either one way or another by the \u2018strong reasons\u2019 which you will not confide to me. Then I shall have fulfilled my promise, and done my duty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe will never bear it,\u201d said he passionately.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe will have to bear it, if I speak in her dead mother’s name.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell!\u201d said he, breaking away, \u201cdon’t tell me any more about it. I cannot endure to think of it. It will be better that you should speak to her any way, than that she should not be spoken to at all.\u2014Oh! that look of love!\u201d continued he, between his teeth, as he bolted himself into his own private room. \u201cAnd that cursed lie; which showed some terrible shame in the background, to be kept from the light in which I thought she lived perpetually! Oh, Margaret, Margaret! Mother, how you have tortured me! Oh! Margaret, could you not have loved me? I am but uncouth and hard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The more Mrs. Thornton thought over what her son had said, in pleading for a merciful judgment for Margaret’s indiscretion, the more bitterly she felt inclined towards her. She took a savage pleasure in the idea of \u201cspeaking her mind\u201d to her, in the guise of fulfilment of a duty. She enjoyed the thought of showing herself untouched by the \u201cglamour,\u201d which she was well aware Margaret had the power of throwing over many people. She snorted scornfully over the picture of the beauty of her victim; her jet black hair, her clear smooth skin, her lucid eyes would not help to save her one word of the just and stern reproach which Mrs. Thornton spent half the night in preparing to her mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs Miss Hale within?\u201d She knew she was, for she had seen her at the window, and she had her feet inside the little hall before Martha had half answered her question.<\/p>\n

Margaret was sitting alone, writing to Edith, and giving her many particulars of her mother’s last days. It was a softening employment, and she had to brush away the unbidden tears as Mrs. Thornton was announced.<\/p>\n

She was so gentle and ladylike in her mode of reception that her visitor was somewhat daunted; and it became impossible to utter the speech, so easy of arrangement with no one to address it to. Margaret’s low rich voice was softer than usual; her manner more gracious, because in her heart she was feeling very grateful to Mrs. Thornton for the courteous attention of her call. She exerted herself to find subjects of interest for conversation; praised Martha, the servant whom Mrs. Thornton had found for them; had asked Edith for a little Greek air, about which she had spoken to Miss Thornton. Mrs. Thornton was fairly discomfited. Her sharp Damascus blade seemed out of place, and useless among rose-leaves. She was silent, because she was trying to task herself up to her duty At last, she stung herself into its performance by a suspicion which, in spite of all probability, she allowed to cross her mind, that all this sweetness was put on with a view of propitiating Mr. Thornton; that, somehow, the other attachment had fallen through, and that it suited Miss Hale’s purpose to recall her rejected lover. Poor Margaret! there was perhaps so much truth in the suspicion as this: that Mrs. Thornton was the mother of one whose regard she valued, and feared to have lost; and this thought unconsciously added to her natural desire of pleasing one who was showing her kindness by her visit. Mrs. Thornton stood up to go, but yet she seemed to have something more to say. She cleared her throat and began:<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss Hale, I have a duty to perform. I promised your poor mother that, as far as my poor judgment went, I would not allow you to act in any way wrongly, or (she softened her speech down a little here) inadvertently, without remonstrating; at least, without offering advice, whether you took it or not.\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret stood before her, blushing like any culprit, with her eyes dilating as she gazed at Mrs. Thornton. She thought she had come to speak to her about the falsehood she had told\u2014that Mr. Thornton had employed her to explain the danger she had exposed herself to, of being confuted in full court! and although her heart sank to think he had not rather chosen to come himself, and upbraid her, and receive her penitence, and restore her again to his good opinion, yet she was too much humbled not to bear any blame on this subject patiently and meekly.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Thornton went on:<\/p>\n

\u201cAt first, when I heard from one of my servants, that you had been seen walking about with a gentleman, so far from home as the Outwood station, at such a time of the evening, I could hardly believe it. But my son, I am sorry to say, confirmed her story. It was indiscreet, to say the least; many a young woman has lost her character before now\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret’s eyes flashed fire. This was a new idea\u2014this was too insulting. If Mrs. Thornton had spoken to her about the lie she had told, well and good\u2014she would have owned it, and humiliated herself But to interfere with her conduct\u2014to speak of her character! she\u2014Mrs. Thornton, a mere stranger\u2014it was too impertinent! She would not answer her\u2014not one word. Mrs. Thornton saw the battle-spirit in Margaret’s eyes, and it called up her combativeness also.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor your mother’s sake, I have thought it right to warn you against such improprieties; they must degrade you in the long run in the estimation of the world, even if in fact they do not lead you to positive harm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor my mother’s sake,\u201d said Margaret, in a tearful voice, \u201cI will bear much; but I cannot bear everything. She never meant me to be exposed to insult, I am sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cInsult, Miss Hale!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, madam,\u201d said Margaret more steadily, \u201cit is insult. What do you know of me that should lead you to suspect\u2014Oh!\u201d said she, breaking down, and covering her face with her hands\u2014\u201dI know now, Mr. Thornton has told you\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Miss Hale,\u201d said Mrs. Thornton, her truthfulness causing her to arrest the confession Margaret was on the point of making, though her curiosity was itching to hear it. ‘Stop. Mr. Thornton has told me nothing. You do not know my son. You are not worthy to know him. He said this. Listen, young lady, that you may understand, if you can, what sort of a man you rejected. This Milton manufacturer, his great tender heart scorned as it was scorned, said to me only last night, \u2018Go to her. I have good reason to know that she is in some strait, arising out of some attachment; and she needs womanly counsel.\u2019 I believe those were his very words. Farther than that\u2014beyond admitting the fact of your being at the Outwood station with a gentleman, on the evening of the twenty-sixth\u2014he has said nothing\u2014not one word against you. If he has knowledge of anything which should make you sob so, he keeps it to himself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret’s face was still hidden in her hands, the fingers of which were wet with tears. Mrs. Thornton was a little mollified.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome, Miss Hale. There may be circumstances, I’ll allow, that, if explained, may take off from the seeming impropriety.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still no answer. Margaret was considering what to say; she wished to stand well with Mrs. Thornton; and yet she could not, might not, give any explanation. Mrs. Thornton grew impatient.<\/p>\n

\u201cI shall be sorry to break off an acquaintance; but for Fanny’s sake\u2014as I told my son, if Fanny had done so we should consider it a great disgrace\u2014and Fanny might be led away\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can give you no explanation,\u201d said Margaret, in a low voice. \u201cI have done wrong, but not in the way you think or know about. I think Mr. Thornton judges me more mercifully than you;\u201d\u2014she had hard work to keep herself from choking with her tears\u2014\u201dbut, I believe, madam, you mean to do rightly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d said Mrs. Thornton, drawing herself up; \u201cI was not aware that my meaning was doubted. It is the last time I shall interfere. I was unwilling to consent to do it, when your mother asked me. I had not approved of my son’s attachment to you, while I only suspected it. You did not appear to me worthy of him. But when you compromised yourself as you did at the time of the riot, and exposed yourself to the comments of servants and workpeople, I felt it was no longer right to set myself against my son’s wish of proposing to you\u2014a wish, by the way, which he had always denied entertaining until the day of the riot.\u201d Margaret winced, and drew in her breath with a long, hissing sound; of which, however, Mrs. Thornton took no notice. \u201cHe came; you had apparently changed your mind. I told my son yesterday, that I thought it possible, short as was the interval, you might have heard or learnt something of this other lover\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat must you think of me, madam?\u201d asked Margaret, throwing her head back with proud disdain, till her throat curved outwards like a swan’s. \u201cYou can say nothing more, Mrs. Thornton. I decline every attempt to justify myself for anything. You must allow me to leave the room.\u201d<\/p>\n

And she swept out of it with the noiseless grace of an offended princess. Mrs. Thornton had quite enough of natural humour to make her feel the ludicrousness of the position in which she was left. There was nothing for it but to show herself out. She was not particularly annoyed at Margaret’s way of behaving. She did not care enough for her for that. She had taken Mrs. Thornton’s remonstrance to the full as keenly to heart as that lady expected; and Margaret’s passion at once mollified her visitor, far more than any silence or reserve could have done. It showed the effect of her words. \u201cMy young lady,\u201d thought Mrs. Thornton to herself; \u201cyou’ve a pretty good temper of your own. If John and you had come together, he would have had to keep a tight hand over you, to make you know your place. But I don’t think you will go a-walking again with your beau, at such an hour of the day, in a hurry. You’ve too much pride and spirit in you for that. I like to see a girl fly out at the notion of being talked about. It shows they’re neither giddy, nor hold by nature. As for that girl, she might be hold, but she’d never be giddy. I’ll do her that justice. Now as to Fanny, she’d be giddy, and not bold. She’s no courage in her, poor thing!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Thornton was not spending the morning so satisfactorily as his mother. She, at any rate, was fulfilling her determined purpose. He was trying to understand where he stood; what damage the strike had done him. A good deal of his capital was locked up in new and expensive machinery; and he had also bought cotton largely, with a view to some great orders which he had in hand. The strike had thrown him terribly behindhand, as to the completion of these orders. Even with his own accustomed and skilled workpeople, he would have had some difficulty in fulfilling his engagements; as it was, the incompetence of the Irish hands, who had to be trained to their work, at a time requiring unusual activity, was a daily annoyance.<\/p>\n

It was not a favourable hour for Higgins to make his request. But he had promised Margaret to do it at any cost. So, though every moment added to his repugnance, his pride, and his sullenness of temper, he stood leaning against the dead wall, hour after hour, first on one leg, then on the other. At last the latch was sharply lifted, and out came Mr. Thornton.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want for to speak to yo’, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan’t stay now, my man. I’m too late as it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, sir, I reckon I can wait till yo’ come back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Thornton was half way down the street. Higgins sighed. But it was no use. To catch him in the street was his only chance of seeing \u201cthe measter;\u201d if he had rung the lodge bell, or even gone up to the house to ask for him, he would have been referred to the overlooker. So he stood still again, vouchsafing no answer, but a short nod of recognition to the few men who knew and spoke to him, as the crowd drove out of the millyard at dinner-time, and scowling with all his might at the Irish \u201cknobsticks\u201d who had just been imported. At last Mr. Thornton returned.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat! you there still!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAy, sir. I mun speak to yo’.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome in here, then. Stay, we’ll go across the yard; the men are not come back, and we shall have it to ourselves. These good people, I see, are at dinner;\u201d said he, closing the door of the porter’s lodge.<\/p>\n

He stopped to speak to the overlooker. The latter said in a low tone:<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose you know, sir, that that man is Higgins, one of the leaders of the Union; he that made that speech in Hurstfield.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I didn’t,\u201d said Mr. Thornton, looking round sharply at his follower. Higgins was known to him by name as a turbulent spirit.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome along,\u201d said he, and his tone was rougher than before. \u201cIt is men such as this,\u201d thought he, \u201cwho interrupt commerce and injure the very town they live in: mere demagogues, lovers of power, at whatever cost to others.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, sir! what do you want with me?\u201d said Mr. Thornton, facing round at him, as soon as they were in the counting-house of the mill.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Higgins\u201d\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cI know that,\u201d broke in Mr. Thornton. \u201cWhat do you want, Mr. Higgins? That’s the question.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWork! You’re a pretty chap to come asking me for work. You don’t want impudence, that’s very clear.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’ve getten enemies and backbiters, like my betters; but I ne’er heerd o’ ony of them calling me o’er-modest,\u201d said Higgins. His blood was a little roused by Mr. Thornton’s manner, more than by his words.<\/p>\n

Mr. Thornton saw a letter addressed to himself on the table. He took it up and read it through. At the end, he looked up and said, \u201cWhat are you waiting for?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAn answer to the question I axed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI gave it you before. Don’t waste any more of your time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYo’ made a remark, sir, on my impudence: but I were taught that it was manners to say either \u2018yes\u2019 or \u2018no,\u2019 when I were axed a civil question. I should be thankfu’ to yo’ if yo’d give me work. Hamper will speak to my being a good hand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’ve a notion you’d better not send me to Hamper to ask for a character, my man. I might hear more than you’d like.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’d take th’ risk. Worst they could say of me is, that I did what I thought best, even to my own wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou’d better go and try them, then, and see whether they’ll give you work. I’ve turned off upwards of a hundred of my best hands, for no other fault than following you and such as you; and d’ye think I’ll take you on? I might as well put a firebrand into the midst of the cotton-waste.\u201d<\/p>\n

Higgins turned away; then the recollection of Boucher came over him, and he faced round with the greatest concession he could persuade himself to make.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’d promise yo’, measter, I’d not speak a word as could do harm, if so be yo’ did right by us; and I’d promise more: I’d promise that when I seed yo’ going wrong, and acting unfair, I’d speak to yo’ in private first; and that would be a fair warning. If yo’ and I did na agree in our opinion o’ your conduct, yo’ might turn me off at an hour’s notice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUpon my word, you don’t think small beer of yourself! Hamper has had a loss of you. How came he to let you and your wisdom go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, we parted wi’ mutual dissatisfaction. I wouldn’t gi’e the pledge they were asking; and they wouldn’t have me at no rate. So I’m free to make another engagement; and as I said before, though I should na’ say it, I’m a good hand, measter, and a steady man\u2014specially when I can keep fro’ drink; and that I shall do now, if I ne’er did afore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat you may have more money laid up for another strike, I suppose?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo! I’d be thankful if I was free to do that; it’s for to keep th’ widow and childer of a man who was drove mad by them knobsticks o’ yourn; put out of his place by a Paddy that did na know weft fro’ warp.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell! you’d better turn to something else, if you’ve any such good intention in your head. I shouldn’t advise you to stay in Milton: you’re too well known here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it were summer,\u201d said Higgins, \u201cI’d take to Paddy’s work, and go as a navvy, or haymaking, or summut, and ne’er see Milton again. But it’s winter, and th’ childer will clem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA pretty navvy you’d make! why, you couldn’t do half a day’s work at digging against an Irishman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’d only charge half-a-day for th’ twelve hours, if I could only do half-a-day’s work in th’ time. Yo’re not knowing of any place, where they could gi’ me a trial, away fro’ the mills, if I’m such a firebrand? I’d take any wage they thought I was worth, for the sake of those childer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t you see what you would be? You’d be a knobstick. You’d be taking less wages than the other labourers\u2014all for the sake of another man’s children. Think how you’d abuse any poor fellow who was willing to take what he could get to keep his own children. You and your Union would soon be down upon him. No! no! if it’s only for the recollection of the way in which you’ve used the poor knobsticks before now, I say No! to your question. I’ll not give you work. I won’t say, I don’t believe your pretext for coming and asking for work; I know nothing about it. It may be true, or it may not. It’s a very unlikely story, at any rate. Let me pass. I’ll not give you work. There’s your answer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hear, sir. I would na ha’ troubled yo’, but that I were bid to come, by one as seemed to think yo’d getten some soft place in, yo’r heart. Hoo were mistook, and I were misled. But I’m not the first man as is misled by a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell her to mind her own business the next time, instead of taking up your time and mine too. I believe women are at the bottom of every plague in this world. Be off with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m obleeged to yo’ for a’ yo’r kindness, measter, and most of a’ for yo’r civil way o’ saying good-bye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Thornton did not deign a reply. But, looking out of the window a minute after, he was struck with the lean, bent figure going out of the yard: the heavy walk was in strange contrast with the resolute, clear determination of the man to speak to him. He crossed to the porter’s lodge:<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long has that man Higgins been waiting to speak to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was outside the gate before eight o’clock, sir. I think he’s been there ever since.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd it is now\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust one, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFive hours,\u201d thought Mr. Thornton; \u201cit’s a long time for a man to wait, doing nothing but first hoping and then fearing.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":38,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-319","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/319","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/319\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":547,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/319\/revisions\/547"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/319\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=319"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=319"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=319"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/northandsouth\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=319"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}