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North and South
CHAPTER XXXIX - MAKING FRIENDS
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
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       _ CHAPTER XXXIX - MAKING FRIENDS
       'Nay, I have done; you get no more of me:
       And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,
       That thus so clearly I myself am free.'
       DRAYTON.
       Margaret shut herself up in her own room, after she had quitted
       Mrs. Thornton. She began to walk backwards and forwards, in her
       old habitual way of showing agitation; but, then, remembering
       that in that slightly-built house every step was heard from one
       room to another, she sate down until she heard Mrs. Thornton go
       safely out of the house. She forced herself to recollect all the
       conversation that had passed between them; speech by speech, she
       compelled her memory to go through with it. At the end, she rose
       up, and said to herself, in a melancholy tone:
       'At any rate, her words do not touch me; they fall off from me;
       for I am innocent of all the motives she attributes to me. But
       still, it is hard to think that any one--any woman--can believe
       all this of another so easily. It is hard and sad. Where I have
       done wrong, she does not accuse me--she does not know. He never
       told her: I might have known he would not!'
       She lifted up her head, as if she took pride in any delicacy of
       feeling which Mr. Thornton had shown. Then, as a new thought came
       across her, she pressed her hands tightly together.
       'He, too, must take poor Frederick for some lover.' (She blushed
       as the word passed through her mind.) 'I see it now. It is not
       merely that he knows of my falsehood, but he believes that some
       one else cares for me; and that I----Oh dear!--oh dear! What
       shall I do? What do I mean? Why do I care what he thinks, beyond
       the mere loss of his good opinion as regards my telling the truth
       or not? I cannot tell. But I am very miserable! Oh, how unhappy
       this last year has been! I have passed out of childhood into old
       age. I have had no youth--no womanhood; the hopes of womanhood
       have closed for me--for I shall never marry; and I anticipate
       cares and sorrows just as if I were an old woman, and with the
       same fearful spirit. I am weary of this continual call upon me
       for strength. I could bear up for papa; because that is a
       natural, pious duty. And I think I could bear up against--at any
       rate, I could have the energy to resent, Mrs. Thornton's unjust,
       impertinent suspicions. But it is hard to feel how completely he
       must misunderstand me. What has happened to make me so morbid
       to-day? I do not know. I only know I cannot help it. I must give
       way sometimes. No, I will not, though,' said she, springing to
       her feet. 'I will not--I ~will~ not think of myself and my own
       position. I won't examine into my own feelings. It would be of no
       use now. Some time, if I live to be an old woman, I may sit over
       the fire, and, looking into the embers, see the life that might
       have been.'
       All this time, she was hastily putting on her things to go out,
       only stopping from time to time to wipe her eyes, with an
       impatience of gesture at the tears that would come, in spite of
       all her bravery.
       'I dare say, there's many a woman makes as sad a mistake as I
       have done, and only finds it out too late. And how proudly and
       impertinently I spoke to him that day! But I did not know then.
       It has come upon me little by little, and I don't know where it
       began. Now I won't give way. I shall find it difficult to behave
       in the same way to him, with this miserable consciousness upon
       me; but I will be very calm and very quiet, and say very little.
       But, to be sure, I may not see him; he keeps out of our way
       evidently. That would be worse than all. And yet no wonder that
       he avoids me, believing what he must about me.'
       She went out, going rapidly towards the country, and trying to
       drown reflection by swiftness of motion.
       As she stood on the door-step, at her return, her father came up:
       'Good girl!' said he. 'You've been to Mrs. Boucher's. I was just
       meaning to go there, if I had time, before dinner.'
       'No, papa; I have not,' said Margaret, reddening. 'I never
       thought about her. But I will go directly after dinner; I will go
       while you are taking your nap.
       Accordingly Margaret went. Mrs. Boucher was very ill; really
       ill--not merely ailing. The kind and sensible neighbour, who had
       come in the other day, seemed to have taken charge of everything.
       Some of the children were gone to the neighbours. Mary Higgins
       had come for the three youngest at dinner-time; and since then
       Nicholas had gone for the doctor. He had not come as yet; Mrs.
       Boucher was dying; and there was nothing to do but to wait.
       Margaret thought that she should like to know his opinion, and
       that she could not do better than go and see the Higginses in the
       meantime. She might then possibly hear whether Nicholas had been
       able to make his application to Mr. Thornton.
       She found Nicholas busily engaged in making a penny spin on the
       dresser, for the amusement of three little children, who were
       clinging to him in a fearless manner. He, as well as they, was
       smiling at a good long spin; and Margaret thought, that the happy
       look of interest in his occupation was a good sign. When the
       penny stopped spinning, 'lile Johnnie' began to cry.
       'Come to me,' said Margaret, taking him off the dresser, and
       holding him in her arms; she held her watch to his ear, while she
       asked Nicholas if he had seen Mr. Thornton.
       The look on his face changed instantly.
       'Ay!' said he. 'I've seen and heerd too much on him.'
       'He refused you, then?' said Margaret, sorrowfully.
       'To be sure. I knew he'd do it all long. It's no good expecting
       marcy at the hands o' them measters. Yo're a stranger and a
       foreigner, and aren't likely to know their ways; but I knowed
       it.'
       'I am sorry I asked you. Was he angry? He did not speak to you as
       Hamper did, did he?'
       'He weren't o'er-civil!' said Nicholas, spinning the penny again,
       as much for his own amusement as for that of the children. 'Never
       yo' fret, I'm only where I was. I'll go on tramp to-morrow. I
       gave him as good as I got. I telled him, I'd not that good
       opinion on him that I'd ha' come a second time of mysel'; but
       yo'd advised me for to come, and I were beholden to yo'.'
       'You told him I sent you?'
       'I dunno' if I ca'd yo' by your name. I dunnot think I did. I
       said, a woman who knew no better had advised me for to come and
       see if there was a soft place in his heart.'
       'And he--?' asked Margaret.
       'Said I were to tell yo' to mind yo'r own business.--That's the
       longest spin yet, my lads.--And them's civil words to what he
       used to me. But ne'er mind. We're but where we was; and I'll
       break stones on th' road afore I let these little uns clem.'
       Margaret put the struggling Johnnie out of her arms, back into
       his former place on the dresser.
       'I am sorry I asked you to go to Mr. Thornton's. I am
       disappointed in him.'
       There was a slight noise behind her. Both she and Nicholas turned
       round at the same moment, and there stood Mr. Thornton, with a
       look of displeased surprise upon his face. Obeying her swift
       impulse, Margaret passed out before him, saying not a word, only
       bowing low to hide the sudden paleness that she felt had come
       over her face. He bent equally low in return, and then closed the
       door after her. As she hurried to Mrs. Boucher's, she heard the
       clang, and it seemed to fill up the measure of her mortification.
       He too was annoyed to find her there. He had tenderness in his
       heart--'a soft place,' as Nicholas Higgins called it; but he had
       some pride in concealing it; he kept it very sacred and safe, and
       was jealous of every circumstance that tried to gain admission.
       But if he dreaded exposure of his tenderness, he was equally
       desirous that all men should recognise his justice; and he felt
       that he had been unjust, in giving so scornful a hearing to any
       one who had waited, with humble patience, for five hours, to
       speak to him. That the man had spoken saucily to him when he had
       the opportunity, was nothing to Mr. Thornton. He rather liked him
       for it; and he was conscious of his own irritability of temper at
       the time, which probably made them both quits. It was the five
       hours of waiting that struck Mr. Thornton. He had not five hours
       to spare himself; but one hour--two hours, of his hard
       penetrating intellectual, as well as bodily labour, did he give
       up to going about collecting evidence as to the truth of
       Higgins's story, the nature of his character, the tenor of his
       life. He tried not to be, but was convinced that all that Higgins
       had said. was true. And then the conviction went in, as if by
       some spell, and touched the latent tenderness of his heart; the
       patience of the man, the simple generosity of the motive (for he
       had learnt about the quarrel between Boucher and Higgins), made
       him forget entirely the mere reasonings of justice, and overleap
       them by a diviner instinct. He came to tell Higgins he would give
       him work; and he was more annoyed to find Margaret there than by
       hearing her last words, for then he understood that she was the
       woman who had urged Higgins to come to him; and he dreaded the
       admission of any thought of her, as a motive to what he was doing
       solely because it was right.
       'So that was the lady you spoke of as a woman?' said he
       indignantly to Higgins. 'You might have told me who she was.
       'And then, maybe, yo'd ha' spoken of her more civil than yo' did;
       yo'd getten a mother who might ha' kept yo'r tongue in check when
       yo' were talking o' women being at the root o' all the plagues.'
       'Of course you told that to Miss Hale?'
       'In coorse I did. Leastways, I reckon I did. I telled her she
       weren't to meddle again in aught that concerned yo'.'
       'Whose children are those--yours?' Mr. Thornton had a pretty good
       notion whose they were, from what he had heard; but he felt
       awkward in turning the conversation round from this unpromising
       beginning.
       'They're not mine, and they are mine.'
       'They are the children you spoke of to me this morning?'
       'When yo' said,' replied Higgins, turning round, with
       ill-smothered fierceness, 'that my story might be true or might
       not, bur it were a very unlikely one. Measter, I've not
       forgetten.'
       Mr. Thornton was silent for a moment; then he said: 'No more have
       I. I remember what I said. I spoke to you about those children in
       a way I had no business to do. I did not believe you. I could not
       have taken care of another man's children myself, if he had acted
       towards me as I hear Boucher did towards you. But I know now that
       you spoke truth. I beg your pardon.'
       Higgins did not turn round, or immediately respond to this. But
       when he did speak, it was in a softened tone, although the words
       were gruff enough.
       'Yo've no business to go prying into what happened between
       Boucher and me. He's dead, and I'm sorry. That's enough.'
       'So it is. Will you take work with me? That's what I came to
       ask.'
       Higgins's obstinacy wavered, recovered strength, and stood firm.
       He would not speak. Mr. Thornton would not ask again. Higgins's
       eye fell on the children.
       'Yo've called me impudent, and a liar, and a mischief-maker, and
       yo' might ha' said wi' some truth, as I were now and then given
       to drink. An' I ha' called you a tyrant, an' an oud bull-dog, and
       a hard, cruel master; that's where it stands. But for th'
       childer. Measter, do yo' think we can e'er get on together?'
       'Well!' said Mr. Thornton, half-laughing, 'it was not my proposal
       that we should go together. But there's one comfort, on your own
       showing. We neither of us can think much worse of the other than
       we do now.'
       'That's true,' said Higgins, reflectively. 'I've been thinking,
       ever sin' I saw you, what a marcy it were yo' did na take me on,
       for that I ne'er saw a man whom I could less abide. But that's
       maybe been a hasty judgment; and work's work to such as me. So,
       measter, I'll come; and what's more, I thank yo'; and that's a
       deal fro' me,' said he, more frankly, suddenly turning round and
       facing Mr. Thornton fully for the first time.
       'And this is a deal from me,' said Mr. Thornton, giving Higgins's
       hand a good grip. 'Now mind you come sharp to your time,'
       continued he, resuming the master. 'I'll have no laggards at my
       mill. What fines we have, we keep pretty sharply. And the first
       time I catch you making mischief, off you go. So now you know
       where you are.'
       'Yo' spoke of my wisdom this morning. I reckon I may bring it wi'
       me; or would yo' rayther have me 'bout my brains?'
       ''Bout your brains if you use them for meddling with my business;
       with your brains if you can keep them to your own.'
       'I shall need a deal o' brains to settle where my business ends
       and yo'rs begins.'
       'Your business has not begun yet, and mine stands still for me.
       So good afternoon.'
       Just before Mr. Thornton came up to Mrs. Boucher's door, Margaret
       came out of it. She did not see him; and he followed her for
       several yards, admiring her light and easy walk, and her tall and
       graceful figure. But, suddenly, this simple emotion of pleasure
       was tainted, poisoned by jealousy. He wished to overtake her, and
       speak to her, to see how she would receive him, now she must know
       he was aware of some other attachment. He wished too, but of this
       wish he was rather ashamed, that she should know that he had
       justified her wisdom in sending Higgins to him to ask for work;
       and had repented him of his morning's decision. He came up to
       her. She started.
       'Allow me to say, Miss Hale, that you were rather premature in
       expressing your disappointment. I have taken Higgins on.'
       'I am glad of it,' said she, coldly.
       'He tells me, he repeated to you, what I said this morning
       about--' Mr. Thornton hesitated. Margaret took it up:
       'About women not meddling. You had a perfect right to express
       your opinion, which was a very correct one, I have no doubt.
       But,' she went on a little more eagerly, 'Higgins did not quite
       tell you the exact truth.' The word 'truth,' reminded her of her
       own untruth, and she stopped short, feeling exceedingly
       uncomfortable.
       Mr. Thornton at first was puzzled to account for her silence; and
       then he remembered the lie she had told, and all that was
       foregone. 'The exact truth!' said he. 'Very few people do speak
       the exact truth. I have given up hoping for it. Miss Hale, have
       you no explanation to give me? You must perceive what I cannot
       but think.'
       Margaret was silent. She was wondering whether an explanation of
       any kind would be consistent with her loyalty to Frederick.
       'Nay,' said he, 'I will ask no farther. I may be putting
       temptation in your way. At present, believe me, your secret is
       safe with me. But you run great risks, allow me to say, in being
       so indiscreet. I am now only speaking as a friend of your
       father's: if I had any other thought or hope, of course that is
       at an end. I am quite disinterested.'
       'I am aware of that,' said Margaret, forcing herself to speak in
       an indifferent, careless way. 'I am aware of what I must appear
       to you, but the secret is another person's, and I cannot explain
       it without doing him harm.'
       'I have not the slightest wish to pry into the gentleman's
       secrets,' he said, with growing anger. 'My own interest in you
       is--simply that of a friend. You may not believe me, Miss Hale,
       but it is--in spite of the persecution I'm afraid I threatened
       you with at one time--but that is all given up; all passed away.
       You believe me, Miss Hale?'
       'Yes,' said Margaret, quietly and sadly.
       'Then, really, I don't see any occasion for us to go on walking
       together. I thought, perhaps you might have had something to say,
       but I see we are nothing to each other. If you're quite
       convinced, that any foolish passion on my part is entirely over,
       I will wish you good afternoon.' He walked off very hastily.
       'What can he mean?' thought Margaret,--'what could he mean by
       speaking so, as if I were always thinking that he cared for me,
       when I know he does not; he cannot. His mother will have said all
       those cruel things about me to him. But I won't care for him. I
       surely am mistress enough of myself to control this wild,
       strange, miserable feeling, which tempted me even to betray my
       own dear Frederick, so that I might but regain his good
       opinion--the good opinion of a man who takes such pains to tell
       me that I am nothing to him. Come poor little heart! be cheery
       and brave. We'll be a great deal to one another, if we are thrown
       off and left desolate.'
       Her father was almost startled by her merriment this afternoon.
       She talked incessantly, and forced her natural humour to an
       unusual pitch; and if there was a tinge of bitterness in much of
       what she said; if her accounts of the old Harley Street set were
       a little sarcastic, her father could not bear to check her, as he
       would have done at another time--for he was glad to see her shake
       off her cares. In the middle of the evening, she was called down
       to speak to Mary Higgins; and when she came back, Mr. Hale
       imagined that he saw traces of tears on her cheeks. But that
       could not be, for she brought good news--that Higgins had got
       work at Mr. Thornton's mill. Her spirits were damped, at any
       rate, and she found it very difficult to go on talking at all,
       much more in the wild way that she had done. For some days her
       spirits varied strangely; and her father was beginning to be
       anxious about her, when news arrived from one or two quarters
       that promised some change and variety for her. Mr. Hale received
       a letter from Mr. Bell, in which that gentleman volunteered a
       visit to them; and Mr. Hale imagined that the promised society of
       his old Oxford friend would give as agreeable a turn to
       Margaret's ideas as it did to his own. Margaret tried to take an
       interest in what pleased her father; but she was too languid to
       care about any Mr. Bell, even though he were twenty times her
       godfather. She was more roused by a letter from Edith, full of
       sympathy about her aunt's death; full of details about herself,
       her husband, and child; and at the end saying, that as the
       climate did not suit, the baby, and as Mrs. Shaw was talking of
       returning to England, she thought it probable that Captain Lennox
       might sell out, and that they might all go and live again in the
       old Harley Street house; which, however, would seem very
       incomplete with-out Margaret. Margaret yearned after that old
       house, and the placid tranquillity of that old well-ordered,
       monotonous life. She had found it occasionally tiresome while it
       lasted; but since then she had been buffeted about, and felt so
       exhausted by this recent struggle with herself, that she thought
       that even stagnation would be a rest and a refreshment. So she
       began to look towards a long visit to the Lennoxes, on their
       return to England, as to a point--no, not of hope--but of
       leisure, in which she could regain her power and command over
       herself. At present it seemed to her as if all subjects tended
       towards Mr. Thornton; as if she could not for-get him with all
       her endeavours. If she went to see the Higginses, she heard of
       him there; her father had resumed their readings together, and
       quoted his opinions perpetually; even Mr. Bell's visit brought
       his tenant's name upon the tapis; for he wrote word that he
       believed he must be occupied some great part of his time with Mr.
       Thornton, as a new lease was in preparation, and the terms of it
       must be agreed upon. _
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Introduction
CHAPTER I - 'HASTE TO THE WEDDING'
CHAPTER II - ROSES AND THORNS
CHAPTER III - 'THE MORE HASTE THE WORSE SPEED'
CHAPTER IV - DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES
CHAPTER V - DECISION
CHAPTER VI - FAREWELL
CHAPTER VII - NEW SCENES AND FACES
CHAPTER VIII - HOME SICKNESS
CHAPTER IX - DRESSING FOR TEA
CHAPTER X - WROUGHT IRON AND GOLD
CHAPTER XI - FIRST IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER XII - MORNING CALLS
CHAPTER XIII - A SOFT BREEZE IN A SULTRY PLACE
CHAPTER XIV - THE MUTINY
CHAPTER XV - MASTERS AND MEN
CHAPTER XVI - THE SHADOW OF DEATH
CHAPTER XVII - WHAT IS A STRIKE?
CHAPTER XVIII - LIKES AND DISLIKES
CHAPTER XIX - ANGEL VISITS
CHAPTER XX - MEN AND GENTLEMEN
CHAPTER XXI - THE DARK NIGHT
CHAPTER XXII - A BLOW AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
CHAPTER XXIII - MISTAKES
CHAPTER XXIV - MISTAKES CLEARED UP
CHAPTER XXV - FREDERICK
CHAPTER XXVI - MOTHER AND SON
CHAPTER XXVII - FRUIT-PIECE
CHAPTER XXVIII - COMFORT IN SORROW
CHAPTER XXIX - A RAY OF SUNSHINE
CHAPTER XXX - HOME AT LAST
CHAPTER XXXI - 'SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?'
CHAPTER XXXII - MISCHANCES
CHAPTER XXXIII - PEACE
CHAPTER XXXIV - FALSE AND TRUE
CHAPTER XXXV - EXPIATION
CHAPTER XXXVI - UNION NOT ALWAYS STRENGTH
CHAPTER XXXVII - LOOKING SOUTH
CHAPTER XXXVIII - PROMISES FULFILLED
CHAPTER XXXIX - MAKING FRIENDS
CHAPTER XL - OUT OF TUNE
CHAPTER XLI - THE JOURNEY'S END
CHAPTER XLII - ALONE! ALONE!
CHAPTER XLIII - MARGARET'S FLITTIN'
CHAPTER XLIV - EASE NOT PEACE
CHAPTER XLV - NOT ALL A DREAM
CHAPTER XLVI - ONCE AND NOW
CHAPTER XLVII - SOMETHING WANTING
CHAPTER XLVIII - 'NE'ER TO BE FOUND AGAIN'
CHAPTER XLIX - BREATHING TRANQUILLITY
CHAPTER L - CHANGES AT MILTON
CHAPTER LI - MEETING AGAIN
CHAPTER LII - 'PACK CLOUDS AWAY'