'Come, Miss Hale. There may be circumstances, I'll allow, that,
if explained, may take off from the seeming impropriety.' Still no answer. Margaret was considering what to say; she wished
to stand well with Mrs. Thornton; and yet she could not, might
not, give any explanation. Mrs. Thornton grew impatient.
'I shall be sorry to break off an acquaintance; but for Fanny's
sake--as I told my son, if Fanny had done so we should consider
it a great disgrace--and Fanny might be led away----' 'I can give you no explanation,' said Margaret, in a low voice.
'I have done wrong, but not in the way you think or know about. I
think Mr. Thornton judges me more mercifully than you;'--she had
hard work to keep herself from choking with her tears--'but, I
believe, madam, you mean to do rightly.' 'Thank you,' said Mrs. Thornton, drawing herself up; 'I was not
aware that my meaning was doubted. It is the last time I shall
interfere. I was unwilling to consent to do it, when your mother
asked me. I had not approved of my son's attachment to you, while
I only suspected it. You did not appear to me worthy of him. But
when you compromised yourself as you did at the time of the riot,
and exposed yourself to the comments of servants and workpeople,
I felt it was no longer right to set myself against my son's wish
of proposing to you--a wish, by the way, which he had always
denied entertaining until the day of the riot.' Margaret winced,
and drew in her breath with a long, hissing sound; of which,
however, Mrs. Thornton took no notice. 'He came; you had
apparently changed your mind. I told my son yesterday, that I
thought it possible, short as was the interval, you might have
heard or learnt something of this other lover----' 'What must you think of me, madam?' asked Margaret, throwing her
head back with proud disdain, till her throat curved outwards
like a swan's. 'You can say nothing more, Mrs. Thornton. I
decline every attempt to justify myself for anything. You must
allow me to leave the room.' And she swept out of it with the noiseless grace of an offended
princess. Mrs. Thornton had quite enough of natural humour to
make her feel the ludicrousness of the position in which she was
left. There was nothing for it but to show herself out. She was
not particularly annoyed at Margaret's way of behaving. She did
not care enough for her for that. She had taken Mrs. Thornton's
remonstrance to the full as keenly to heart as that lady
expected; and Margaret's passion at once mollified her visitor,
far more than any silence or reserve could have done. It showed
the effect of her words. 'My young lady,' thought Mrs. Thornton
to herself; 'you've a pretty good temper of your own. If John and
you had come together, he would have had to keep a tight hand
over you, to make you know your place. But I don't think you will
go a-walking again with your beau, at such an hour of the day, in
a hurry. You've too much pride and spirit in you for that. I like
to see a girl fly out at the notion of being talked about. It
shows they're neither giddy, nor hold by nature. As for that
girl, she might be hold, but she'd never be giddy. I'll do her
that justice. Now as to Fanny, she'd be giddy, and not bold.
She's no courage in her, poor thing!' Mr. Thornton was not spending the morning so satisfactorily as
his mother. She, at any rate, was fulfilling her determined
purpose. He was trying to understand where he stood; what damage
the strike had done him. A good deal of his capital was locked up
in new and expensive machinery; and he had also bought cotton
largely, with a view to some great orders which he had in hand.
The strike had thrown him terribly behindhand, as to the
completion of these orders. Even with his own accustomed and
skilled workpeople, he would have had some difficulty in
fulfilling his engagements; as it was, the incompetence of the
Irish hands, who had to be trained to their work, at a time
requiring unusual activity, was a daily annoyance.