She remembered—she, then strong in her own untempted truth—asking him, if he did not think that buying in the cheapest and selling in the dearest market proved some want of the transparent justice which is so intimately connected with the idea of truth: and she had used the word chivalric—and her father had corrected her with the higher word, Christian; and so drawn the argument upon himself, while she sate silent by with a slight feeling of contempt.
No more contempt for her!—no more talk about the chivalric!
Henceforward she must feel humiliated and disgraced in his sight.
But when should she see him?
Her heart leaped up in apprehension at every ring of the door-bell; and yet when it fell down to calmness, she felt strangely saddened and sick at heart at each disappointment.
It was very evident that her father expected to see him, and was surprised that he did not come.
The truth was, that there were points in their conversation the other night on which they had no time then to enlarge; but it had been understood that if possible on the succeeding evening—if not then, at least the very first evening that Mr. Thornton could command,—they should meet for further discussion. Mr. Hale had looked forward to this meeting ever since they had parted. He had not yet resumed the instruction to his pupils, which he had relinquished at the commencement of his wife's more serious illness, so he had fewer occupations than usual; and the great interest of the last day or so (Boucher's suicide) had driven him back with more eagerness than ever upon his speculations.
He was restless all evening.
He kept saying,
'I quite expected to have seen Mr. Thornton.
I think the messenger who brought the book last night must have had some note, and forgot to deliver it.
Do you think there has been any message left to-day?'
'I will go and inquire, papa,' said Margaret, after the changes on these sentences had been rung once or twice.
'Stay, there's a ring!'
She sate down instantly, and bent her head attentively over her work.
She heard a step on the stairs, but it was only one, and she knew it was Dixon's.
She lifted up her head and sighed, and believed she felt glad.
'It's that Higgins, sir.
He wants to see you, or else Miss Hale.
Or it might be Miss Hale first, and then you, sir; for he's in a strange kind of way.
'He had better come up here, Dixon; and then he can see us both, and choose which he likes for his listener.'
'Oh! very well, sir.
I've no wish to hear what he's got to say, I'm sure; only, if you could see his shoes, I'm sure you'd say the kitchen was the fitter place.
'He can wipe them, I suppose, said Mr. Hale.
So Dixon flung off, to bid him walk up-stairs.
She was a little mollified, however, when he looked at his feet with a hesitating air; and then, sitting down on the bottom stair, he took off the offending shoes, and without a word walked up-stairs.
'Sarvant, sir!' said he, slicking his hair down when he came into the room. 'If hoo'l excuse me (looking at Margaret) for being i' my stockings; I'se been tramping a' day, and streets is none o' th' cleanest.'
Margaret thought that fatigue might account for the change in his manner, for he was unusually quiet and subdued; and he had evidently some difficulty in saying what he came to say.
Mr. Hale's ever-ready sympathy with anything of shyness or hesitation, or want of self-possession, made him come to his aid. 'We shall have tea up directly, and then you'll take a cup with us, Mr. Higgins. I am sure you are tired, if you've been out much this wet relaxing day.
Margaret, my dear, can't you hasten tea?'
Margaret could only hasten tea by taking the preparation of it into her own hands, and so offending Dixon, who was emerging out of her sorrow for her late mistress into a very touchy, irritable state.
But Martha, like all who came in contact with Margaret—even Dixon herself, in the long run—felt it a pleasure and an honour to forward any of her wishes; and her readiness, and Margaret's sweet forbearance, soon made Dixon ashamed of herself.
'Why master and you must always be asking the lower classes up-stairs, since we came to Milton, I cannot understand.
Folk at Helstone were never brought higher than the kitchen; and I've let one or two of them know before now that they might think it an honour to be even there.'
Higgins found it easier to unburden himself to one than to two.
After Margaret left the room, he went to the door and assured himself that it was shut.
Then he came and stood close to Mr. Hale.
'Master,' said he, 'yo'd not guess easy what I've been tramping after to-day.
Special if yo' remember my manner o' talk yesterday.
I've been a seeking work. I have' said he.
'I said to mysel', I'd keep a civil tongue in my head, let who would say what 'em would.
I'd set my teeth into my tongue sooner nor speak i' haste.
For that man's sake—yo' understand,' jerking his thumb back in some unknown direction.
'No, I don't,' said Mr. Hale, seeing he waited for some kind of assent, and completely bewildered as to who 'that man' could be.
'That chap as lies theer,' said he, with another jerk. 'Him as went and drownded himself, poor chap!
I did na' think he'd got it in him to lie still and let th' water creep o'er him till he died.
Boucher, yo' know.'
'Yes, I know now,' said Mr. Hale. 'Go back to what you were saying: you'd not speak in haste——'
'For his sake.
Yet not for his sake; for where'er he is, and whate'er, he'll ne'er know other clemming or cold again; but for the wife's sake, and the bits o' childer.'