all going on, going on for ever, though her
Aunt Shaw and Edith were no longer there;
and she, of course, was even less missed. She
doubted if any one of that old set ever thought
of her, except Henry Lennox. He too, she
knew, would strive to forget her, because of
the pain she had caused him. She had heard
him often boast of his power of putting any
disagreeable thought far away from him.
Then she penetrated farther into what might
have been. If she had cared for him as a
lover, and had accepted him, and this change
inner father's opinions and consequent station
had taken place, she could not doubt but that
it would have been impatiently received by
Mr. Lennox. It was a bitter mortification to
her in one sense; but she could bear it
patiently, because she knew her father's
purity of purpose, and that strengthened her
to endure his errors, grave and serious though
in her estimation they were. But the fact of
the world esteeming her father degraded, in
its rough wholesale judgment, would have
oppressed and irritated Mr. Lennox. As she
realised what might have been, she grew to
be thankful for what was. They were at the
lowest now; they could not be worse. Edith's
astonishment and her Aunt Shaw's dismay
would have to be met bravely, when their
letters came. So Margaret rose up, and
began slowly to undress herself, feeling the
full luxury of acting leisurely, late as it was,
after all the past hurry of the day. She fell
asleep, hoping for some brightness, either
internal or external. But if she had known
how long it would be before the brightness
came, her heart would have sunk low down.
The time of the year was most unpropitious
to health as well as to spirits. Her mother
caught a severe cold, and Dixon herself was
evidently not well, although Margaret could
not insult her more than by trying to save
her, or by taking any care of her. They
could hear of no girl to assist her; all were
at work in the factories; at least those who
applied were well scolded by Dixon for thinking
that such as they could ever be trusted to
work in a gentleman's house. So they had
to keep a charwoman in almost constant
employ. Margaret longed to send for
Charlotte; but besides the objection of her being
a better servant than they could now afford
to keep, the distance was too great.

Mr. Hale met with several pupils,
recommended to him by Mr. Bell, or by the more
immediate influence of Mr. Thornton. They
were mostly of the age when many boys
would be still at school, but, according to the
prevalent and apparently well-founded notions
of Milton, to make a lad into a good tradesman
he must be caught young, and
acclimated to the life of the mill, or office,
or warehouse. If he were sent to even the
Scotch universities he came back unsettled
for commercial pursuits; how much more so
if he went to Oxford or Cambridge, where he
could not be entered till he was eighteen?
So most of the manufacturers placed their
sons in sucking situations at fourteen or
fifteen years of age, unsparingly cutting away
all off-shoots in the direction of literature or
high mental cultivation, in hopes of throwing
all the strength and vigour of the plant into
commerce. Still there were some wiser
parents; and some young men,who had
sense enough to perceive their own
deficiencies, and strive to remedy them. Nay,
there were a few no longer youths, but men
in the prime of life, who had the stem wisdom
to acknowledge their own ignorance, and to
learn late what they should have learnt early.
  Mr. Thornton was perhaps the oldest of Mr.
Hale's pupils. He was certainly the favourite.
Mr. Hale got into the habit of quoting
his opinions so frequently, and with such
regard that it became a little domestic joke
to wonder what time during the hour
appointed for instruction could be given to
absolute learning, so much of it appeared to
have been spent in conversation.

Margaret rather encouraged this light
merry way of viewing her father's acquaintance
with Mr. Thornton, because she felt that
her mother was inclined to look upon this new
friendship of her husband's with jealous eyes.
As long as his time had been solely occupied
with his books and his parishioners, as a
Helstone, she had appeared to care little if
she saw much of him or not; but now that
he looked eagerly forward to each renewal of
his intercourse with Mr. Thornton, she seemed
hurt and annoyed, as if he were slighting her
companionship for the first time. Mr. Hale's
over-praise had the usual effect of over-praise
upon his auditors; they were a little inclined
to rebel against Aristides being always called
the Just.

After a quiet life in a country parsonage
for more than twenty years, there was
something dazzling to Mr. Hale in the energy
which conquered immense difficulties with
ease; the power of the machinery of Milton,
the power of the men of Milton, impressed
him with a sense of grandeur, which he
yielded to without caring to inquire into the
details of its exercise. But Margaret went
less abroad, among machinery and men; saw
less of power in its public effect, and, as it
happened, she was thrown with one or two
of those who, in all measures affecting masses
of people, must be acute sufferers for the
good of many. The question always is, Has
everything been done to make the suffering of
these exceptions as small as possible? Or, in
the triumph of the crowded procession, have
the helpless been trampled on, instead of being
gently lifted aside out of the roadway of the
conqueror, whom they have no power to
accompany on his march?

It so happened that it fell to Margaret's
share to have to look out for a servant to assist
Dixon, who had at first undertaken to find just
the person she wanted to do all the rough
work of the house. But Dixon's ideas of helpful