"Yes. He is a Fellow of Plymouth College there. He is a native of Milton-Northern, I believe. At any rate, he has property there, which has verymuch increased in value since Milton has become such a largemanufacturing town. Well, I had reason to suspect--to imagine--I hadbetter say nothing about it, however. But I felt sure of sympathy fromMr. Bell. I don"t know that he gave me much strength. He has lived aneasy life in his college all his days. But he has been as kind as can be.
And it is owing to him we are going to Milton."
"How?" said Margaret.
"Why he has tenants, and houses, and mills there; so, though he dislikesthe place--too bustling for one of his habits--he is obliged to keep upsome sort of connection; and he tells me that he hears there is a goodopening for a private tutor there."
"A private tutor!" said Margaret, looking scornful: "What in the world domanufacturers want with the classics, or literature, or theaccomplishments of a gentleman?"
"Oh," said her father, "some of them really seem to be fine fellows,conscious of their own deficiencies, which is more than many a man atOxford is. Some want resolutely to learn, though they have come toman"s estate. Some want their children to be better instructed than theythemselves have been. At any rate, there is an opening, as I have said,for a private tutor. Mr. Bell has recommended me to a Mr. Thornton, atenant of his, and a very intelligent man, as far as I can judge from hisletters. And in Milton, Margaret, I shall find a busy life, if not a happyone, and people and scenes so different that I shall never be reminded ofHelstone."
There was the secret motive, as Margaret knew from her own feelings.
It would be different. Discordant as it was--with almost a detestation forall she had ever heard of the North of England, the manufacturers, thepeople, the wild and bleak country--there was this one recommendation-it would be different from Helstone, and could never remind them ofthat beloved place.
"When do we go?" asked Margaret, after a short silence.
"I do not know exactly. I wanted to talk it over with you. You see, yourmother knows nothing about it yet: but I think, in a fortnight;--after mydeed of resignation is sent in, I shall have no right to remain.
Margaret was almost stunned.
"In a fortnight!"
"No--no, not exactly to a day. Nothing is fixed," said her father, withanxious hesitation, as he noticed the filmy sorrow that came over hereyes, and the sudden change in her complexion. But she recoveredherself immediately.
"Yes, papa, it had better be fixed soon and decidedly, as you say. Onlymamma to know nothing about it! It is that that is the great perplexity."
"Poor Maria!" replied Mr. Hale, tenderly. "Poor, poor Maria! Oh, if Iwere not married--if I were but myself in the world, how easy it wouldbe! As it is--Margaret, I dare not tell her!"
"No," said Margaret, sadly, "I will do it. Give me till to-morrow eveningto choose my time Oh, papa," cried she, with sudden passionateentreaty, "say--tell me it is a night-mare--a horrid dream--not the realwaking truth! You cannot mean that you are really going to leave theChurch--to give up Helstone--to be for ever separate from me, frommamma--led away by some delusion--some temptation! You do notreally mean it!"
Mr. Hale sat in rigid stillness while she spoke.
Then he looked her in the face, and said in a slow, hoarse, measuredway--"I do mean it, Margaret. You must not deceive yourself intodoubting the reality of my words--my fixed intention and resolve." Helooked at her in the same steady, stony manner, for some moments afterhe had done speaking. She, too, gazed back with pleading eyes beforeshe would believe that it was irrevocable. Then she arose and went,without another word or look, towards the door. As her fingers were onthe handle he called her back. He was standing by the fireplace, shrunkand stooping; but as she came near he drew himself up to his fullheight, and, placing his hands on her head, he said, solemnly:
"The blessing of God be upon thee, my child!"
"And may He restore you to His Church," responded she, out of thefulness of her heart. The next moment she feared lest this answer to hisblessing might be irreverent, wrong--might hurt him as coming from hisdaughter, and she threw her arms round his neck. He held her to him fora minute or two. She heard him murmur to himself, "The martyrs andconfessors had even more pain to bear--I will not shrink."
They were startled by hearing Mrs. Hale inquiring for her daughter.
They started asunder in the full consciousness of all that was beforethem. Mr. Hale hurriedly said--"Go, Margaret, go. I shall be out all tomorrow.
Before night you will have told your mother."
"Yes," she replied, and she returned to the drawing-room in a stunnedand dizzy state.
