Nicholas was out; only Mary and one or two of the Boucher
children at home. Margaret was vexed with herself for not having
timed her visit better. Mary had a very blunt intellect, although
her feelings were warm and kind; and the instant she understood
what Margaret's purpose was in coming to see them, she began to
cry and sob with so little restraint that Margaret found it
useless to say any of the thousand little things which had
suggested themselves to her as she was coming along in the coach.
She could only try to comfort her a little by suggesting the
vague chance of their meeting again, at some possible time, in
some possible place, and bid her tell her father how much she
wished, if he could manage it, that he should come to see her
when he had done his work in the evening.
As she was leaving the place, she stopped and looked round; then
hesitated a little before she said: 'I should like to have some little thing to remind me of Bessy.' Instantly Mary's generosity was keenly alive. What could they
give? And on Margaret's singling out a little common
drinking-cup, which she remembered as the one always standing by
Bessy's side with drink for her feverish lips, Mary said: 'Oh, take summut better; that only cost fourpence!' 'That will do, thank you,' said Margaret; and she went quickly
away, while the light caused by the pleasure of having something
to give yet lingered on Mary's face.
'Now to Mrs. Thornton's,' thought she to herself. 'It must be
done.' But she looked rather rigid and pale at the thought of it,
and had hard work to find the exact words in which to explain to
her aunt who Mrs. Thornton was, and why she should go to bid her
farewell.
They (for Mrs. Shaw alighted here) were shown into the
drawing-room, in which a fire had only just been kindled. Mrs.
Shaw huddled herself up in her shawl, and shivered.
'What an icy room!' she said.
They had to wait for some time before Mrs. Thornton entered.
There was some softening in her heart towards Margaret, now that
she was going away out of her sight. She remembered her spirit,
as shown at various times and places even more than the patience
with which she had endured long and wearing cares. Her
countenance was blander than usual, as she greeted her; there was
even a shade of tenderness in her manner, as she noticed the
white, tear-swollen face, and the quiver in the voice which
Margaret tried to make so steady.