North and South

began to speak ever so mildly on the subject of Higgins’s thoughts, the latter would consider himself challenged to an argument, and would feel himself bound to maintain his own ground. She and her father kept up an indifferent conversation until Higgins, scarcely aware whether he ate or not, had made a very substantial meal. Then he pushed his chair away from the table, and tried to take an interest in what they were saying; but it was of no use; and he fell back into dreamy gloom. Suddenly, Margaret said (she had been thinking of it for some time, but the words had stuck in her throat), “Higgins have you been to Marlborough Mills to seek for work?”

“Thornton’s?” asked he. “Ay, I’ve been at Thornton’s.”

“And what did he say?”

“Such a chap as me is not like to see the measter. Th’ o’erlooker bid me go and be d⁠⸺⁠d.”

“I wish you had seen Mr. Thornton,” said Mr. Hale. “He might not have given you work, but he would not have used such language.”

“As to th’ language, I’m welly used to it; it dunnot matter to me. I’m not nesh mysel’ when I’m put out. It were th’ fact that I were na wanted theer, no more nor ony other place, as I minded.”

“But I wish you had seen Mr. Thornton,” repeated Margaret. “Would you go again⁠—it’s a good deal to ask, I know⁠—but would you go tomorrow and try him? I should be so glad if you would.”

“I’m afraid it would be of no use,” said Mr. Hale, in a low voice. “It would be better to let me speak to him.” Margaret still looked at Higgins for his answer. Those grave soft eyes of hers were difficult to resist. He gave a great sigh.

“It would tax my pride above a bit; if it were for mysel’, I could stand a deal o’ clemming first; I’d sooner knock him down than ask a favour from him. I’d a deal sooner be flogged mysel’; but yo’re not a common wench, axing yo’r pardon, nor yet have yo’ common ways about yo’. I’ll e’en make a wry face, and go at it tomorrow. Dunna yo’ think that he’ll do it. That man has it in him to be burnt at the stake afore he’ll give in. I’ll do it for yo’r sake, Miss Hale, and it’s first time in my life as e’er I give way to a woman. Neither my wife nor Bess could e’er say that much again me.”

“All the more do I thank you,” said Margaret, smiling. “Though I don’t believe you: I believe you have just given way to wife and daughter as much as most men.”

“And as to Mr. Thornton,” said Mr. Hale, “I’ll give you a note to him, which, I think I may venture say, will ensure you a hearing.”

“I thank yo’ kindly, sir, but I’d as lief stand on my own bottom. I dunnot stomach the notion of having favour curried for me, by one as doesn’t know the ins and outs of the quarrel. Meddling ’twixt master and man is liker meddling ’twixt husband and wife than aught else: it takes a deal of wisdom to do ony good. I’ll stand guard at the lodge door. I’ll stand there fro’ six in the morning till I get speech on him. But I’d liefer sweep th’ streets, if paupers had na’ got hold on that work. Dunna yo’ hope, miss. There’ll be more chance o’ getting milk out of a flint. I wish yo’ a very good night, and many thanks to yo’.”

“You’ll find your shoes by the kitchen fire; I took them there to dry,” said Margaret.

He turned round and looked at her steadily, and then he brushed his lean hand across his eyes and went his way.

“How proud that man is!” said her father, who was a little annoyed at the manner in which Higgins had declined his intercession with Mr. Thornton.

“He is,” said Margaret; “but what grand makings of a man there are in him, pride and all.”

“It’s amusing to see how he evidently respects the part in Mr. Thornton’s character which is like his own.”

“There’s granite in all these northern people, papa, is there not?”

“There was none in poor Boucher, I am afraid; none in his wife either.”

“I should guess by their tones that they had Irish blood in them. I wonder what success he’ll have tomorrow. If he and Mr. Thornton would speak out together as man to man⁠—if Higgins would forget that Mr. Thornton was a master, and speak to him as he does to us⁠—and if Mr. Thornton would be patient enough to listen to him with his human heart, not with his master’s ears⁠—”

“You are getting to do Mr. Thornton justice at last, Margaret,” said her father, pinching her ear.

Margaret had a strange choking at her heart, which made her unable to answer, “Oh!” thought she, “I wish I were a man, that I could go and force him to express his disapprobation, and tell him honestly that I knew I deserved it. It seems hard to lose him as a friend just when I had begun to feel his value. How tender he was with dear mamma! If it were only for her sake, I wish he would come, and then at least I should know how much I was abased in his eyes.”

XXXVIII

Promises Fulfilled

Then proudly, proudly up she rose,
Tho’ the tear was in her e’e,
“Whate’er ye say, think what ye may,
Ye’s get na word frae me!”

Scotch Ballad

It was not merely that Margaret was known to Mr. Thornton to have spoken falsely⁠—though she imagined that for this reason only was she so turned in his opinion⁠—but that this falsehood of hers bore a distinct reference in his mind to some other lover. He could not forget the fond and earnest look that had passed between her and some other man⁠—the attitude of familiar confidence,