Margaret entered the room (where her father and mother still sat,
holding low conversation together), looking very pale and white.
She came close up to them before she could trust herself to
speak.
'Mrs. Thornton will send the water-bed, mamma.' 'Dear, how tired you look! Is it very hot, Margaret?' 'Very hot, and the streets are rather rough with the strike.' Margaret's colour came back vivid and bright as ever; but it
faded away instantly.
'Here has been a message from Bessy Higgins, asking you to go to
her,' said Mrs. Hale. 'But I'm sure you look too tired.' 'Yes!' said Margaret. 'I am tired, I cannot go.' She was very silent and trembling while she made tea. She was
thankful to see her father so much occupied with her mother as
not to notice her looks. Even after her mother went to bed, he
was not content to be absent from her, but undertook to read her
to sleep. Margaret was alone.
'Now I will think of it--now I will remember it all. I could not
before--I dared not.' She sat still in her chair, her hands
clasped on her knees, her lips compressed, her eyes fixed as one
who sees a vision. She drew a deep breath.
'I, who hate scenes--I, who have despised people for showing
emotion--who have thought them wanting in self-control--I went
down and must needs throw myself into the melee, like a romantic
fool! Did I do any good? They would have gone away without me I
dare say.' But this was over-leaping the rational conclusion,--as
in an instant her well-poised judgment felt. 'No, perhaps they
would not. I did some good. But what possessed me to defend that
man as if he were a helpless child! Ah!' said she, clenching her
hands together, 'it is no wonder those people thought I was in
love with him, after disgracing myself in that way. I in
love--and with him too!' Her pale cheeks suddenly became one
flame of fire; and she covered her face with her hands. When she
took them away, her palms were wet with scalding tears.
'Oh how low I am fallen that they should say that of me! I could
not have been so brave for any one else, just because he was so
utterly indifferent to me--if, indeed, I do not positively
dislike him. It made me the more anxious that there should be
fair play on each side; and I could see what fair play was. It
was not fair, said she, vehemently, 'that he should stand
there--sheltered, awaiting the soldiers, who might catch those
poor maddened creatures as in a trap--without an effort on his
part, to bring them to reason. And it was worse than unfair for
them to set on him as they threatened. I would do it again, let
who will say what they like of me. If I saved one blow, one
cruel, angry action that might otherwise have been committed, I
did a woman's work. Let them insult my maiden pride as they
will--I walk pure before God!' She looked up, and a noble peace seemed to descend and calm her
face, till it was 'stiller than chiselled marble.' Dixon came in: 'If you please, Miss Margaret, here's the water-bed from Mrs.
Thornton's. It's too late for to-night, I'm afraid, for missus is
nearly asleep: but it will do nicely for to-morrow.' 'Very,' said Margaret. 'You must send our best thanks.' Dixon left the room for a moment.