"I shall not be at home till evening. I am going to Bracy Common, andwill ask Farmer Dobson to give me something for dinner. I shall beback to tea at seven."
He did not look at either of them, but Margaret knew what he meant. Byseven the announcement must be made to her mother. Mr. Hale wouldhave delayed making it till half-past six, but Margaret was of differentstuff. She could not bear the impending weight on her mind all the daylong: better get the worst over; the day would be too short to comforther mother. But while she stood by the window, thinking how to begin,and waiting for the servant to have left the room, her mother had goneup-stairs to put on her things to go to the school. She came down readyequipped, in a brisker mood than usual.
"Mother, come round the garden with me this morning; just one turn,"
said Margaret, putting her arm round Mrs. Hale"s waist.
They passed through the open window. Mrs. Hale spoke--saidsomething--Margaret could not tell what. Her eye caught on a beeentering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth with his spoilshe would begin--that should be the sign. Out he came.
"Mamma! Papa is going to leave Helstone!" she blurted forth. "He"sgoing to leave the Church, and live in Milton-Northern." There were thethree hard facts hardly spoken.
"What makes you say so?" asked Mrs. Hale, in a surprised incredulousvoice. "Who has been telling you such nonsense?"
"Papa himself," said Margaret, longing to say something gentle andconsoling, but literally not knowing how. They were close to a garden-bench. Mrs. Hale sat down, and began to cry.
"I don"t understand you," she said. "Either you have made some greatmistake, or I don"t quite understand you."
"No, mother, I have made no mistake. Papa has written to the bishop,saying that he has such doubts that he cannot conscientiously remain apriest of the Church of England, and that he must give up Helstone. Hehas also consulted Mr. Bell--Frederick"s godfather, you know, mamma;and it is arranged that we go to live in Milton-Northern." Mrs. Halelooked up in Margaret"s face all the time she was speaking these words:
the shadow on her countenance told that she, at least, believed in thetruth of what she said.
"I don"t think it can be true," said Mrs. Hale, at length. "He would surelyhave told me before it came to this."
It came strongly upon Margaret"s mind that her mother ought to havebeen told: that whatever her faults of discontent and repining mighthave been, it was an error in her father to have left her to learn hischange of opinion, and his approaching change of life, from her better-informed child. Margaret sat down by her mother, and took herunresisting head on her breast, bending her own soft cheeks downcaressingly to touch her face.
"Dear, darling mamma! we were so afraid of giving you pain. Papa feltso acutely--you know you are not strong, and there must have been suchterrible suspense to go through."
"When did he tell you, Margaret?"
"Yesterday, only yesterday," replied Margaret, detecting the jealousywhich prompted the inquiry. "Poor papa!"--trying to divert her mother"sthoughts into compassionate sympathy for all her father had gonethrough. Mrs. Hale raised her head.
"What does he mean by having doubts?" she asked. "Surely, he does notmean that he thinks differently--that he knows better than the Church."
Margaret shook her head, and the tears came into her eyes, as hermother touched the bare nerve of her own regret.
"Can"t the bishop set him right?" asked Mrs. Hale, half impatiently.
"I"m afraid not," said Margaret. "But I did not ask. I could not bear to hearwhat he might answer. It is all settled at any rate. He is going to leaveHelstone in a fortnight. I am not sure if he did not say he had sent in hisdeed of resignation."
"In a fortnight!" exclaimed Mrs. Hale, "I do think this is very strange--notat all right. I call it very unfeeling," said she, beginning to take relief intears. "He has doubts, you say, and gives up his living, and all withoutconsulting me. I dare say, if he had told me his doubts at the first Icould have nipped them in the bud."
Mistaken as Margaret felt her father"s conduct to have been, she couldnot bear to hear it blamed by her mother. She knew that his very reservehad originated in a tenderness for her, which might be cowardly, butwas not unfeeling.
"I almost hoped you might have been glad to leave Helstone, mamma,"
said she, after a pause. "You have never been well in this air, you know."
"You can"t think the smoky air of a manufacturing town, all chimneysand dirt like Milton-Northern, would be better than this air, which ispure and sweet, if it is too soft and relaxing. Fancy living in the middleof factories, and factory people! Though, of course, if your father leavesthe Church, we shall not be admitted into society anywhere. It will besuch a disgrace to us! Poor dear Sir John! It is well he is not alive to seewhat your father has come to! Every day after dinner, when I was a girl,living with your aunt Shaw, at Beresford Court, Sir John used to givefor the first toast--"Church and King, and down with the Rump.""
Margaret was glad that her mother"s thoughts were turned away fromthe fact of her husband"s silence to her on the point which must havebeen so near his heart. Next to the serious vital anxiety as to the natureof her father"s doubts, this was the one circumstance of the case thatgave Margaret the most pain.
"You know, we have very little society here, mamma. The Gormans,who are our nearest neighbours (to call society--and we hardly ever seethem), have been in trade just as much as these Milton-Northernpeople."
"Yes," said Mrs. Hale, almost indignantly, "but, at any rate, the Gormansmade carriages for half the gentry of the county, and were brought intosome kind of intercourse with them; but these factory people, who onearth wears cotton that can afford linen?"
"Well, mamma, I give up the cotton-spinners; I am not standing up forthem, any more than for any other trades-people. Only we shall havelittle enough to do with them."
"Why on earth has your father fixed on Milton-Northern to live in?"
"Partly," said Margaret, sighing, "because it is so very different fromHelstone--partly because Mr. Bell says there is an opening there for aprivate tutor."
"Private tutor in Milton! Why can"t he go to Oxford, and be a tutor togentlemen?"
