She sprang out of bed and prayed long and earnestly. It soothed
and comforted her so to open her heart. But as soon as she
reviewed her position she found the sting was still there; that
she was not good enough, nor pure enough to be indifferent to the
lowered opinion of a fellow creature; that the thought of how he
must be looking upon her with contempt, stood between her and her
sense of wrong-doing. She took her letter in to her father as
soon as she was drest. There was so slight an allusion to their
alarm at the rail-road station, that Mr. Hale passed over it
without paying any attention to it. Indeed, beyond the mere fact
of Frederick having sailed undiscovered and unsuspected, he did
not gather much from the letter at the time, he was so uneasy
about Margaret's pallid looks. She seemed continually on the
point of weeping.
'You are sadly overdone, Margaret. It is no wonder. But you must
let me nurse you now.' He made her lie down on the sofa, and went for a shawl to cover
her with. His tenderness released her tears; and she cried
bitterly.
'Poor child!--poor child!' said he, looking fondly at her, as she
lay with her face to the wall, shaking with her sobs. After a
while they ceased, and she began to wonder whether she durst give
herself the relief of telling her father of all her trouble. But
there were more reasons against it than for it. The only one for
it was the relief to herself; and against it was the thought that
it would add materially to her father's nervousness, if it were
indeed necessary for Frederick to come to England again; that he
would dwell on the circumstance of his son's having caused the
death of a man, however unwittingly and unwillingly; that this
knowledge would perpetually recur to trouble him, in various
shapes of exaggeration and distortion from the simple truth. And
about her own great fault--he would be distressed beyond measure
at her want of courage and faith, yet perpetually troubled to
make excuses for her. Formerly Margaret would have come to him as
priest as well as father, to tell him of her temptation and her
sin; but latterly they had not spoken much on such subjects; and
she knew not how, in his change of opinions, he would reply if
the depth of her soul called unto his. No; she would keep her
secret, and bear the burden alone. Alone she would go before God,
and cry for His absolution. Alone she would endure her disgraced
position in the opinion of Mr. Thornton. She was unspeakably
touched by the tender efforts of her father to think of cheerful
subjects on which to talk, and so to take her thoughts away from
dwelling on all that had happened of late. It was some months
since he had been so talkative as he was this day. He would not
let her sit up, and offended Dixon desperately by insisting on
waiting upon her himself.