'Don't think hardly on him--he's a good man, he is. I sometimes

think I shall be moped wi' sorrow even in the City of God, if

father is not there.' The feverish colour came into her cheek,

and the feverish flame into her eye. 'But you will be there,

father! you shall! Oh! my heart!' She put her hand to it, and

became ghastly pale.

Margaret held her in her arms, and put the weary head to rest

upon her bosom. She lifted the thin soft hair from off the

temples, and bathed them with water. Nicholas understood all her

signs for different articles with the quickness of love, and even

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the round-eyed sister moved with laborious gentleness at

Margaret's 'hush!' Presently the spasm that foreshadowed death

had passed away, and Bessy roused herself and said,-'I'll go to bed,--it's best place; but,' catching at Margaret's

gown, 'yo'll come again,--I know yo' will--but just say it!' 'I will come to-morrow, said Margaret.

Bessy leant back against her father, who prepared to carry her

upstairs; but as Margaret rose to go, he struggled to say

something: 'I could wish there were a God, if it were only to ask

Him to bless thee.' Margaret went away very sad and thoughtful.

She was late for tea at home. At Helstone unpunctuality at

meal-times was a great fault in her mother's eyes; but now this,

as well as many other little irregularities, seemed to have lost

their power of irritation, and Margaret almost longed for the old

complainings.

'Have you met with a servant, dear?' 'No, mamma; that Anne Buckley would never have done.' 'Suppose I try,' said Mr. Hale. 'Everybody else has had their

turn at this great difficulty. Now let me try. I may be the

Cinderella to put on the slipper after all.' Margaret could hardly smile at this little joke, so oppressed was

she by her visit to the Higginses.

'What would you do, papa? How would you set about it?' 'Why, I would apply to some good house-mother to recommend me one

known to herself or her servants.' 'Very good. But we must first catch our house-mother.' 'You have caught her. Or rather she is coming into the snare, and

you will catch her to-morrow, if you're skilful.' 'What do you mean, Mr. Hale?' asked his wife, her curiosity

aroused.

'Why, my paragon pupil (as Margaret calls him), has told me that

his mother intends to call on Mrs. and Miss Hale to-morrow.' 'Mrs. Thornton!' exclaimed Mrs. Hale.




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