I see my way as birds their trackless way-I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first,I ask not: but unless God send his hailOr blinding fire-balls, sleet, or stifling snow,In some time--his good time--I shall arrive;He guides me and the bird. In His good time!
BROWNING"S PARACELSUS.
So the winter was getting on, and the days were beginning to lengthen,without bringing with them any of the brightness of hope which usuallyaccompanies the rays of a February sun. Mrs. Thornton had of courseentirely ceased to come to the house. Mr. Thornton came occasionally,but his visits were addressed to her father, and were confined to thestudy. Mr. Hale spoke of him as always the same; indeed, the veryrarity of their intercourse seemed to make Mr. Hale set only the highervalue on it. And from what Margaret could gather of what Mr. Thorntonhad said, there was nothing in the cessation of his visits which couldarise from any umbrage or vexation. His business affairs had becomecomplicated during the strike, and required closer attention than he hadgiven to them last winter. Nay, Margaret could even discover that hespoke from time to time of her, and always, as far as she could learn, inthe same calm friendly way, never avoiding and never seeking anymention of her name.
She was not in spirits to raise her father"s tone of mind. The drearypeacefulness of the present time had been preceded by so long a periodof anxiety and care--even intermixed with storms--that her mind hadlost its elasticity. She tried to find herself occupation in teaching thetwo younger Boucher children, and worked hard at goodness; hard, Isay most truly, for her heart seemed dead to the end of all her efforts;and though she made them punctually and painfully, yet she stood as faroff as ever from any cheerfulness; her life seemed still bleak and dreary.
The only thing she did well, was what she did out of unconscious piety,the silent comforting and consoling of her father. Not a mood of his butwhat found a ready sympathiser in Margaret; not a wish of his that shedid not strive to forecast, and to fulfil. They were quiet wishes to besure, and hardly named without hesitation and apology. All the morecomplete and beautiful was her meek spirit of obedience. Marchbrought the news of Frederick"s marriage. He and Dolores wrote; she inSpanish-English, as was but natural, and he with little turns andinversions of words which proved how far the idioms of his bride"scountry were infecting him.
On the receipt of Henry Lennox"s letter, announcing how little hopethere was of his ever clearing himself at a court-martial, in the absenceof the missing witnesses, Frederick had written to Margaret a prettyvehement letter, containing his renunciation of England as his country;he wished he could unnative himself, and declared that he would nottake his pardon if it were offered him, nor live in the country if he hadpermission to do so. All of which made Margaret cry sorely, sounnatural did it seem to her at the first opening; but on consideration,she saw rather in such expression the poignancy of the disappointmentwhich had thus crushed his hopes; and she felt that there was nothingfor it but patience. In the next letter, Frederick spoke so joyfully of thefuture that he had no thought for the past; and Margaret found a use inherself for the patience she had been craving for him. She would haveto be patient. But the pretty, timid, girlish letters of Dolores werebeginning to have a charm for both Margaret and her father. The youngSpaniard was so evidently anxious to make a favourable impressionupon her lover"s English relations, that her feminine care peeped out atevery erasure; and the letters announcing the marriage, wereaccompanied by a splendid black lace mantilla, chosen by Doloresherself for her unseen sister-in-law, whom Frederick had represented asa paragon of beauty, wisdom and virtue. Frederick"s worldly positionwas raised by this marriage on to as high a level as they could desire.
Barbour and Co. was one of the most extensive Spanish houses, andinto it he was received as a junior partner. Margaret smiled a little, andthen sighed as she remembered afresh her old tirades against trade. Herewas her preux chevalier of a brother turned merchant, trader! But thenshe rebelled against herself, and protested silently against the confusionimplied between a Spanish merchant and a Milton mill-owner. Well!
trade or no trade, Frederick was very, very happy. Dolores must becharming, and the mantilla was exquisite! And then she returned to thepresent life.
Her father had occasionally experienced a difficulty in breathing thisspring, which had for the time distressed him exceedingly. Margaretwas less alarmed, as this difficulty went off completely in the intervals;but she still was so desirous of his shaking off the liability altogether, asto make her very urgent that he should accept Mr. Bell"s invitation tovisit him at Oxford this April. Mr. Bell"s invitation included Margaret.
Nay more, he wrote a special letter commanding her to come; but shefelt as if it would be a greater relief to her to remain quietly at home,entirely free from any responsibility whatever, and so to rest her mindand heart in a manner which she had not been able to do for more thantwo years past.