But I have planned it all. The front room down-stairs is to beyour study and our dining-room (poor papa!), for, you know, we settledmamma is to have as cheerful a sitting-room as we can get; and thatfront room up-stairs, with the atrocious blue and pink paper and heavycornice, had really a pretty view over the plain, with a great bend ofriver, or canal, or whatever it is, down below. Then I could have thelittle bed-room behind, in that projection at the head of the first flight ofstairs--over the kitchen, you know--and you and mamma the roombehind the drawing-room, and that closet in the roof will make you asplendid dressing-room."
"But Dixon, and the girl we are to have to help?"
"Oh, wait a minute. I am overpowered by the discovery of my owngenius for management. Dixon is to have--let me see, I had it once--theback sitting-room. I think she will like that. She grumbles so muchabout the stairs at Heston; and the girl is to have that sloping attic overyour room and mamma"s. Won"t that do?"
"I dare say it will. But the papers. What taste! And the overloading sucha house with colour and such heavy cornices!"
"Never mind, papa! Surely, you can charm the landlord into re-paperingone or two of the rooms--the drawing-room and your bed-room--formamma will come most in contact with them; and your book-shelveswill hide a great deal of that gaudy pattern in the dining-room."
"Then you think it the best? If so, I had better go at once and call on thisMr. Donkin, to whom the advertisement refers me. I will take you backto the hotel, where you can order lunch, and rest, and by the time it isready, I shall be with you. I hope I shall be able to get new papers."
Margaret hoped so too, though she said nothing. She had never comefairly in contact with the taste that loves ornament, however bad, morethan the plainness and simplicity which are of themselves theframework of elegance.
Her father took her through the entrance of the hotel, and leaving her atthe foot of the staircase, went to the address of the landlord of the housethey had fixed upon. Just as Margaret had her hand on the door of theirsitting-room, she was followed by a quick-stepping waiter:
"I beg your pardon, ma"am. The gentleman was gone so quickly, I hadno time to tell him. Mr. Thornton called almost directly after you left;and, as I understood from what the gentleman said, you would be backin an hour, I told him so, and he came again about five minutes ago, andsaid he would wait for Mr. Hale. He is in your room now, ma"am."
"Thank you. My father will return soon, and then you can tell him."
Margaret opened the door and went in with the straight, fearless,dignified presence habitual to her. She felt no awkwardness; she had toomuch the habits of society for that. Here was a person come on businessto her father; and, as he was one who had shown himself obliging, shewas disposed to treat him with a full measure of civility. Mr. Thorntonwas a good deal more surprised and discomfited than she. Instead of aquiet, middle-aged clergyman, a young lady came forward with frankdignity,--a young lady of a different type to most of those he was in thehabit of seeing. Her dress was very plain: a close straw bonnet of thebest material and shape, trimmed with white ribbon; a dark silk gown,without any trimming or flounce; a large Indian shawl, which hungabout her in long heavy folds, and which she wore as an empress wearsher drapery. He did not understand who she was, as he caught thesimple, straight, unabashed look, which showed that his being there wasof no concern to the beautiful countenance, and called up no flush ofsurprise to the pale ivory of the complexion. He had heard that Mr. Halehad a daughter, but he had imagined that she was a little girl.
"Mr. Thornton, I believe!" said Margaret, after a half-instant"s pause,during which his unready words would not come. "Will you sit down.
My father brought me to the door, not a minute ago, but unfortunatelyhe was not told that you were here, and he has gone away on somebusiness. But he will come back almost directly. I am sorry you havehad the trouble of calling twice."
Mr. Thornton was in habits of authority himself, but she seemed toassume some kind of rule over him at once. He had been gettingimpatient at the loss of his time on a market-day, the moment before sheappeared, yet now he calmly took a seat at her bidding.
"Do you know where it is that Mr. Hale has gone to? Perhaps I might beable to find him."
"He has gone to a Mr. Donkin"s in Canute Street. He is the land-lord ofthe house my father wishes to take in Crampton."
Mr. Thornton knew the house. He had seen the advertisement, and beento look at it, in compliance with a request of Mr. Bell"s that he wouldassist Mr. Hale to the best of his power: and also instigated by his owninterest in the case of a clergyman who had given up his living undercircumstances such as those of Mr. Hale. Mr. Thornton had thought thatthe house in Crampton was really just the thing; but now that he sawMargaret, with her superb ways of moving and looking, he began to feelashamed of having imagined that it would do very well for the Hales, inspite of a certain vulgarity in it which had struck him at the time of hislooking it over.
