For instance, one day, after she had passed a number of men,
several of whom had paid her the not unusual compliment of
wishing she was their sweetheart, one of the lingerers added,
'Your bonny face, my lass, makes the day look brighter.' And
another day, as she was unconsciously smiling at some passing
thought, she was addressed by a poorly-dressed, middle-aged
workman, with 'You may well smile, my lass; many a one would
smile to have such a bonny face.' This man looked so careworn
that Margaret could not help giving him an answering smile, glad
to think that her looks, such as they were, should have had the
power to call up a pleasant thought. He seemed to understand her
acknowledging glance, and a silent recognition was established
between them whenever the chances of the day brought them across
each other s paths. They had never exchanged a word; nothing had
been said but that first compliment; yet somehow Margaret looked
upon this man with more interest than upon any one else in
Milton. Once or twice, on Sundays, she saw him walking with a
girl, evidently his daughter, and, if possible, still more
unhealthy than he was himself.
One day Margaret and her father had been as far as the fields
that lay around the town; it was early spring, and she had
gathered some of the hedge and ditch flowers, dog-violets, lesser
celandines, and the like, with an unspoken lament in her heart
for the sweet profusion of the South. Her father had left her to
go into Milton upon some business; and on the road home she met
her humble friends. The girl looked wistfully at the flowers,
and, acting on a sudden impulse, Margaret offered them to her.
Her pale blue eyes lightened up as she took them, and her father
spoke for her.
'Thank yo, Miss. Bessy'll think a deal o' them flowers; that hoo
will; and I shall think a deal o' yor kindness. Yo're not of this
country, I reckon?' 'No!' said Margaret, half sighing. 'I come from the South--from
Hampshire,' she continued, a little afraid of wounding his
consciousness of ignorance, if she used a name which he did not
understand.
'That's beyond London, I reckon? And I come fro' Burnley-ways,
and forty mile to th' North. And yet, yo see, North and South has
both met and made kind o' friends in this big smoky place.' Margaret had slackened her pace to walk alongside of the man and
his daughter, whose steps were regulated by the feebleness of the
latter. She now spoke to the girl, and there was a sound of
tender pity in the tone of her voice as she did so that went
right to the heart of the father.