She would ha' thought it a great compliment, I know.'
Margaret shrank a little from answering.
'Yes, perhaps I may.
Yes, I will.
I'll come before tea.
But where's your father, Mary?'
Mary shook her head, and stood up to be going.
'Miss Hale,' said Dixon, in a low voice, 'where's the use o' your going to see the poor thing laid out?
I'd never say a word against it, if it could do the girl any good; and I wouldn't mind a bit going myself, if that would satisfy her.
They've just a notion, these common folks, of its being a respect to the departed.
Here,' said she, turning sharply round, 'I'll come and see your sister.
Miss Hale is busy, and she can't come, or else she would.'
The girl looked wistfully at Margaret.
Dixon's coming might be a compliment, but it was not the same thing to the poor sister, who had had her little pangs of jealousy, during Bessy's lifetime, at the intimacy between her and the young lady.
'No, Dixon!' said Margaret with decision.
'I will go.
Mary, you shall see me this afternoon.' And for fear of her own cowardice, she went away, in order to take from herself any chance of changing her determination.
Chapter 28 Comfort in Sorrow
'Through cross to crown!—And though thy spirit's life
Trials untold assail with giant strength,
Good cheer! good cheer!
Soon ends the bitter strife,
And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.'
KOSEGARTEN.
'Ay sooth, we feel too strong in weal, to need Thee on that road;
But woe being come, the soul is dumb, that crieth not on "God."'
MRS. BROWNING.
That afternoon she walked swiftly to the Higgins's house.
Mary was looking out for her, with a half-distrustful face.
Margaret smiled into her eyes to re-assure her.
They passed quickly through the house-place, upstairs, and into the quiet presence of the dead.
Then Margaret was glad that she had come.
The face, often so weary with pain, so restless with troublous thoughts, had now the faint soft smile of eternal rest upon it.
The slow tears gathered into Margaret's eyes, but a deep calm entered into her soul.
And that was death!
It looked more peaceful than life.
All beautiful scriptures came into her mind.
'They rest from their labours.'
'The weary are at rest.'
'He giveth His beloved sleep.'
Slowly, slowly Margaret turned away from the bed.
Mary was humbly sobbing in the back-ground.
They went down stairs without a word.
Resting his hand upon the house-table, Nicholas Higgins stood in the midst of the floor; his great eyes startled open by the news he had heard, as he came along the court, from many busy tongues.
His eyes were dry and fierce; studying the reality of her death; bringing himself to understand that her place should know her no more.
For she had been sickly, dying so long, that he had persuaded himself she would not die; that she would 'pull through.'
Margaret felt as if she had no business to be there, familiarly acquainting herself with the surroundings of death which he, the father, had only just learnt.
There had been a pause of an instant on the steep crooked stair, when she first saw him; but now she tried to steal past his abstracted gaze, and to leave him in the solemn circle of his household misery.
Mary sat down on the first chair she came to, and throwing her apron over her head, began to cry.
The noise appeared to rouse him.