"Honesty is the Best Policy"—life diluted into words.
No, no!
What the master is, that will the men be, without over-much taking thought on his part.'
'That is a great admission,' said Margaret, laughing. 'When I see men violent and obstinate in pursuit of their rights, I may safely infer that the master is the same that he is a little ignorant of that spirit which suffereth long, and is kind, and seeketh not her own.'
'You are just like all strangers who don't understand the working of our system, Miss Hale,' said he, hastily. 'You suppose that our men are puppets of dough, ready to be moulded into any amiable form we please.
You forget we have only to do with them for less than a third of their lives; and you seem not to perceive that the duties of a manufacturer are far larger and wider than those merely of an employer of labour: we have a wide commercial character to maintain, which makes us into the great pioneers of civilisation.'
'It strikes me,' said Mr. Hale, smiling, 'that you might pioneer a little at home.
They are a rough, heathenish set of fellows, these Milton men of yours.'
'They are that,' replied Mr. Thornton. 'Rosewater surgery won't do for them.
Cromwell would have made a capital mill-owner, Miss Hale.
I wish we had him to put down this strike for us.'
'Cromwell is no hero of mine,' said she, coldly. 'But I am trying to reconcile your admiration of despotism with your respect for other men's independence of character.'
He reddened at her tone.
'I choose to be the unquestioned and irresponsible master of my hands, during the hours that they labour for me.
But those hours past, our relation ceases; and then comes in the same respect for their independence that I myself exact.'
He did not speak again for a minute, he was too much vexed.
But he shook it off, and bade Mr. and Mrs. Hale good night.
Then, drawing near to Margaret, he said in a lower voice—
'I spoke hastily to you once this evening, and I am afraid, rather rudely.
But you know I am but an uncouth Milton manufacturer; will you forgive me?'
'Certainly,' said she, smiling up in his face, the expression of which was somewhat anxious and oppressed, and hardly cleared away as he met her sweet sunny countenance, out of which all the north-wind effect of their discussion had entirely vanished.
But she did not put out her hand to him, and again he felt the omission, and set it down to pride.
Chapter 16 The Shadow of Death
'Trust in that veiled hand, which leads
None by the path that he would go;
And always be for change prepared,
For the world's law is ebb and flow.'
FROM THE ARABIC.
The next afternoon Dr. Donaldson came to pay his first visit to Mrs. Hale.
The mystery that Margaret hoped their late habits of intimacy had broken through, was resumed.
She was excluded from the room, while Dixon was admitted.
Margaret was not a ready lover, but where she loved she loved passionately, and with no small degree of jealousy.
She went into her mother's bed-room, just behind the drawing-room, and paced it up and down, while awaiting the doctor's coming out.
Every now and then she stopped to listen; she fancied she heard a moan.
She clenched her hands tight, and held her breath.
She was sure she heard a moan.
Then all was still for a few minutes more; and then there was the moving of chairs, the raised voices, all the little disturbances of leave-taking.
When she heard the door open, she went quickly out of the bed-room.
'My father is from home, Dr. Donaldson; he has to attend a pupil at this hour.
May I trouble you to come into his room down stairs?'
She saw, and triumphed over all the obstacles which Dixon threw in her way; assuming her rightful position as daughter of the house in something of the spirit of the Elder Brother, which quelled the old servant's officiousness very effectually.
Margaret's conscious assumption of this unusual dignity of demeanour towards Dixon, gave her an instant's amusement in the midst of her anxiety.
She knew, from the surprised expression on Dixon's face, how ridiculously grand she herself must be looking; and the idea carried her down stairs into the room; it gave her that length of oblivion from the keen sharpness of the recollection of the actual business in hand.
Now, that came back, and seemed to take away her breath.
It was a moment or two before she could utter a word.
But she spoke with an air of command, as she asked:—'
'What is the matter with mamma?
You will oblige me by telling the simple truth.' Then, seeing a slight hesitation on the doctor's part, she added—
'I am the only child she has—here, I mean.