"You would not have approved of Fanny"s being seen out, after dark, inrather a lonely place, walking about with a young man. I say nothing ofthe taste which could choose the time, when her mother lay unburied,for such a promenade. Should you have liked your sister to have beennoticed by a grocer"s assistant for doing so?"
"In the first place, as it is not many years since I myself was a draper"sassistant, the mere circumstance of a grocer"s assistant noticing any actdoes not alter the character of the act to me. And in the next place, I seea great deal of difference between Miss Hale and Fanny. I can imaginethat the one may have weighty reasons, which may and ought to makeher overlook any seeming Impropriety in her conduct. I never knewFanny have weighty reasons for anything. Other people must guard her.
I believe Miss Hale is a guardian to herself"
"A pretty character of your sister, indeed! Really, John, one would havethought Miss Hale had done enough to make you clear-sighted. Shedrew you on to an offer, by a bold display of pretended regard for you,-toplay you off against this very young man, I"ve no doubt. Her wholeconduct is clear to me now. You believe he is her lover, I suppose--youagree to that."
He turned round to his mother; his face was very gray and grim. "Yes,mother. I do believe he is her lover." When he had spoken, he turnedround again; he writhed himself about, like one in bodily pain. He leanthis face against his hand. Then before she could speak, he turned sharpagain:
"Mother. He is her lover, whoever he is; but she may need help andwomanly counsel;--there may be difficulties or temptations which Idon"t know. I fear there are. I don"t want to know what they are; but asyou have ever been a good--ay! and a tender mother to me, go to her,and gain her confidence, and tell her what is best to be done. I knowthat something is wrong; some dread, must be a terrible torture to her."
"For God"s sake, John!" said his mother, now really shocked, "what doyou mean? What do you mean? What do you know?"
He did not reply to her.
"John! I don"t know what I shan"t think unless you speak. You have noright to say what you have done against her."
"Not against her, mother! I could not speak against her."
"Well! you have no right to say what you have done, unless you saymore. These half-expressions are what ruin a woman"s character."
"Her character! Mother, you do not dare--" he faced about, and lookedinto her face with his flaming eyes. Then, drawing himself up intodetermined composure and dignity, he said, "I will not say any morethan this, which is neither more nor less than the simple truth, and I amsure you believe me,--I have good reason to believe, that Miss Hale isin some strait and difficulty connected with an attachment which, ofitself, from my knowledge of Miss Hale"s character, is perfectlyinnocent and right. What my reason is, I refuse to tell. But never let mehear any one say a word against her, implying any more seriousimputation than that she now needs the counsel of some kind and gentlewoman. You promised Mrs. Hale to be that woman!"
No!" said Mrs. Thornton. "I am happy to say, I did not promise kindnessand gentleness, for I felt at the time that it might be out of my power torender these to one of Miss Hale"s character and disposition. I promisedcounsel and advice, such as I would give to my own daughter; I shallspeak to her as I would do to Fanny, if she had gone gallivanting with ayoung man in the dusk. I shall speak with relation to the circumstances Iknow, without being influenced either one way or another by the"strong reasons" which you will not confide to me. Then I shall havefulfilled my promise, and done my duty."
"She will never bear it," said he passionately.
"She will have to bear it, if I speak in her dead mother"s name."
"Well!" said he, breaking away, "don"t tell me any more about it. I cannotendure to think of it. It will be better that you should speak to her anyway, than that she should not be spoken to at all.--Oh! that look oflove!" continued he, between his teeth, as he bolted himself into his ownprivate room. "And that cursed lie; which showed some terrible shamein the background, to be kept from the light in which I thought she livedperpetually! Oh, Margaret, Margaret! Mother, how you have torturedme! Oh! Margaret, could you not have loved me? I am but uncouth andhard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for me."
The more Mrs. Thornton thought over what her son had said, inpleading for a merciful judgment for Margaret"s indiscretion, the morebitterly she felt inclined towards her. She took a savage pleasure in theidea of "speaking her mind" to her, in the guise of fulfilment of a duty.
She enjoyed the thought of showing herself untouched by the "glamour,"
which she was well aware Margaret had the power of throwing overmany people. She snorted scornfully over the picture of the beauty ofher victim; her jet black hair, her clear smooth skin, her lucid eyeswould not help to save her one word of the just and stern reproachwhich Mrs. Thornton spent half the night in preparing to her mind.
"Is Miss Hale within?" She knew she was, for she had seen her at thewindow, and she had her feet inside the little hall before Martha hadhalf answered her question.
Margaret was sitting alone, writing to Edith, and giving her manyparticulars of her mother"s last days. It was a softening employment,and she had to brush away the unbidden tears as Mrs. Thornton wasannounced.
She was so gentle and ladylike in her mode of reception that her visitorwas somewhat daunted; and it became impossible to utter the speech, soeasy of arrangement with no one to address it to. Margaret"s low richvoice was softer than usual; her manner more gracious, because in herheart she was feeling very grateful to Mrs. Thornton for the courteousattention of her call. She exerted herself to find subjects of interest forconversation; praised Martha, the servant whom Mrs. Thornton hadfound for them; had asked Edith for a little Greek air, about which shehad spoken to Miss Thornton. Mrs. Thornton was fairly discomfited.
