Margaret could not help her looks; but the short curled upper lip, theround, massive up-turned chin, the manner of carrying her head, hermovements, full of a soft feminine defiance, always gave strangers theimpression of haughtiness. She was tired now, and would rather haveremained silent, and taken the rest her father had planned for her; but, ofcourse, she owed it to herself to be a gentlewoman, and to speakcourteously from time to time to this stranger; not over-brushed, norover-polished, it must be confessed, after his rough encounter withMilton streets and crowds. She wished that he would go, as he had oncespoken of doing, instead of sitting there, answering with curt sentencesall the remarks she made. She had taken off her shawl, and hung it overthe back of her chair. She sat facing him and facing the light; her fullbeauty met his eye; her round white flexile throat rising out of the full,yet lithe figure; her lips, moving so slightly as she spoke, not breakingthe cold serene look of her face with any variation from the one lovelyhaughty curve; her eyes, with their soft gloom, meeting his with quietmaiden freedom. He almost said to himself that he did not like her,before their conversation ended; he tried so to compensate himself forthe mortified feeling, that while he looked upon her with an admirationhe could not repress, she looked at him with proud indifference, takinghim, he thought, for what, in his irritation, he told himself he was--agreat rough fellow, with not a grace or a refinement about him. Herquiet coldness of demeanour he interpreted into contemptuousness, andresented it in his heart to the pitch of almost inclining him to get up andgo away, and have nothing more to do with these Hales, and theirsuperciliousness.
Just as Margaret had exhausted her last subject of conversation--and yetconversation that could hardly be called which consisted of so few andsuch short speeches--her father came in, and with his pleasantgentlemanly courteousness of apology, reinstated his name and familyin Mr. Thornton"s good opinion.
Mr. Hale and his visitor had a good deal to say respecting their mutualfriend, Mr. Bell; and Margaret, glad that her part of entertaining thevisitor was over, went to the window to try and make herself morefamiliar with the strange aspect of the street. She got so much absorbedin watching what was going on outside that she hardly heard her fatherwhen he spoke to her, and he had to repeat what he said:
"Margaret! the landlord will persist in admiring that hideous paper, and Iam afraid we must let it remain."
"Oh dear! I am sorry!" she replied, and began to turn over in her mindthe possibility of hiding part of it, at least, by some of her sketches, butgave up the idea at last, as likely only to make bad worse. Her father,meanwhile, with his kindly country hospitality, was pressing Mr.
Thornton to stay to luncheon with them. It would have been veryinconvenient to him to do so, yet he felt that he should have yielded, ifMargaret by word or look had seconded her father"s invitation; he wasglad she did not, and yet he was irritated at her for not doing it. Shegave him a low, grave bow when he left, and he felt more awkward andself-conscious in every limb than he had ever done in all his life before.
"Well, Margaret, now to luncheon, as fast we can. Have you ordered it?"
"No, papa; that man was here when I came home, and I have never hadan opportunity."
"Then we must take anything we can get. He must have been waiting along time, I"m afraid."
"It seemed exceedingly long to me. I was just at the last gasp when youcame in. He never went on with any subject, but gave little, short,abrupt answers."
"Very much to the point though, I should think. He is a clearheadedfellow. He said (did you hear?) that Crampton is on gravelly soil, andby far the most healthy suburb in the neighbour hood of Milton."
When they returned to Heston, there was the day"s account to be givento Mrs. Hale, who was full of questions which they answered in theintervals of tea-drinking.
"And what is your correspondent, Mr. Thornton, like?"
"Ask Margaret," said her husband. "She and he had a long attempt atconversation, while I was away speaking to the landlord."
"Oh! I hardly know what he is like," said Margaret, lazily; too tired totax her powers of description much. And then rousing herself, she said,"He is a tall, broad-shouldered man, about--how old, papa?"
"I should guess about thirty."
"About thirty--with a face that is neither exactly plain, nor yethandsome, nothing remarkable--not quite a gentleman; but that washardly to be expected."
"Not vulgar, or common though," put in her father, rather jealous of anydisparagement of the sole friend he had in Milton.
"Oh no!" said Margaret. "With such an expression of resolution andpower, no face, however plain in feature, could be either vulgar orcommon. I should not like to have to bargain with him; he looks veryinflexible. Altogether a man who seems made for his niche, mamma;sagacious, and strong, as becomes a great tradesman."
"Don"t call the Milton manufacturers tradesmen, Margaret," said herfather. "They are very different."
"Are they? I apply the word to all who have something tangible to sell;but if you think the term is not correct, papa, I won"t use it. But, ohmamma! speaking of vulgarity and commonness, you must prepareyourself for our drawing-room paper. Pink and blue roses, with yellowleaves! And such a heavy cornice round the room!"
But when they removed to their new house in Milton, the obnoxiouspapers were gone. The landlord received their thanks very composedly;and let them think, if they liked, that he had relented from his expresseddetermination not to repaper. There was no particular need to tell them,that what he did not care to do for a Reverend Mr. Hale, unknown inMilton, he was only too glad to do at the one short sharp remonstranceof Mr. Thornton, the wealthy manufacturer.