North and South. Элизабет Гаскелл

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СКАЧАТЬ to it, and became ghastly pale.

      Margaret held her in her arms, and put the weary head to rest upon her bosom. She lifted the thin soft hair from off the temples, and bathed them with water. Nicholas understood all her signs for different articles with the quickness of love, and even the round-eyed sister moved with laborious gentleness at Margaret’s ‘hush!’ Presently the spasm that foreshadowed death had passed away, and Bessy roused herself and said,

      ‘I’ll go to bed—it’s best place; but,’ catching at Margaret’s gown, ‘yo’ll come again—I know yo’ will—but just say it!’

      ‘I will come to-morrow,’ said Margaret.

      Bessy leant back against her father, who prepared to carry her upstairs; but as Margaret rose to go, he struggled to say something: ‘I could wish there were a God, if it were only to ask Him to bless thee.’

      Margaret went away very sad and thoughtful.

      She was late for tea at home. At Helstone unpunctuality at meal-times was a great fault in her mother’s eyes; but now this, as well as many other little irregularities, seemed to have lost their power of irritation, and Margaret almost longed for the old complainings.

      ‘Have you met with a servant, dear?’

      ‘No, mamma; that Anne Buckley would never have done.’

      ‘Suppose I try,’ said Mr. Hale. ‘Everybody else has had their turn at this great difficulty. Now let me try. I may be the Cinderella to put on the slipper after all.’

      Margaret could hardly smile at this little joke, so oppressed was she by her visit to the Higginses.

      ‘What would you do, papa? How would you set about it?’

      ‘Why, I would apply to some good house-mother to recommend me one known to herself or her servants.’

      ‘Very good. But we must first catch our house-mother.’

      ‘You have caught her. Or rather she is coming into the snare, and you will catch her to-morrow, if you’re skilful.’

      ‘What do you mean, Mr. Hale?’ asked his wife, her curiosity aroused.

      ‘Why, my paragon pupil (as Margaret calls him), has told me that his mother intends to call on Mrs. and Miss Hale to-morrow.’

      ‘Mrs. Thornton!’ exclaimed Mrs. Hale.

      ‘The mother of whom he spoke to us?’ said Margaret.

      ‘Mrs. Thornton; the only mother he has, I believe,’ said Mr. Hale quietly.

      ‘I shall like to see her. She must be an uncommon person,’ her mother added.

      ‘Perhaps she may have a relation who might suit us, and be glad of our place. She sounded to be such a careful economical person, that I should like any one out of the same family.’

      ‘My dear,’ said Mr. Hale alarmed. ‘Pray don’t go off on that idea. I fancy Mrs. Thornton is as haughty and proud in her way, as our little Margaret here is in hers, and that she completely ignores that old time of trial, and poverty, and economy, of which he speaks so openly. I am sure, at any rate, she would not like strangers to know anything about it.’

      ‘Take notice that is not my kind of haughtiness, papa, if I have any at all; which I don’t agree to, though you’re always accusing me of it.’

      ‘I don’t know positively that it is hers either; but from little things I have gathered from him, I fancy so.’

      They cared too little to ask in what manner her son had spoken about her. Margaret only wanted to know if she must stay in to receive this call, as it would prevent her going to see how Bessy was, until late in the day, since the early morning was always occupied in household affairs; and then she recollected that her mother must not be left to have the whole weight of entertaining her visitor.

       CHAPTER 12 Morning Calls

      ‘Well—I suppose we must.’

      FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

      Mr. Thornton had had some difficulty in working up his mother to the desired point of civility. She did not often make calls; and when she did, it was in heavy state that she went through her duties. Her son had given her a carriage; but she refused to let him keep horses for it; they were hired for the solemn occasions, when she paid morning or evening visits. She had had horses for three days, not a fortnight before, and had comfortably ‘killed off’ all her acquaintances, who might now put themselves to trouble and expense in their turn. Yet Crampton was too far off for her to walk; and she had repeatedly questioned her son as to whether his wish that she should call on the Hales was strong enough to bear the expense of cab-hire. She would have been thankful if it had not; for, as she said, ‘she saw no use in making up friendships and intimacies with all the teachers and masters in Milton; why, he would be wanting her to call on Fanny’s dancing-master’s wife, the next thing!’

      ‘And so I would, mother, if Mr. Mason and his wife were friendless in a strange place, like the Hales.’

      ‘Oh! you need not speak so hastily. I am going to-morrow. I only wanted you exactly to understand about it.’

      ‘If you are going to-morrow, I shall order horses.’

      ‘Nonsense, John. One would think you were made of money.’

      ‘Not quite, yet. But about the horses I’m determined. The last time you were out in a cab, you came home with a headache from the jolting.’

      ‘I never complained of it, I’m sure.’

      ‘No. My mother is not given to complaints,’ said he, a little proudly. ‘But so much the more I have to watch over you. Now as for Fanny there, a little hardship would do her good.’

      ‘She is not made of the same stuff as you are, John. She could not bear it.’ Mrs. Thornton was silent after this; for her last words bore relation to a subject which mortified her. She had an unconscious contempt for a weak character; and Fanny was weak in the very points in which her mother and brother were strong. Mrs. Thornton was not a woman much given to reasoning; her quick judgement and firm resolution served her in good stead of any long arguments and discussions with herself; she felt instinctively that nothing could strengthen Fanny to endure hardships patiently, or face difficulties bravely; and though she winced as she made this acknowledgement to herself about her daughter, it only gave her a kind of pitying tenderness of manner towards her; much of the same description of demeanour with which mothers are wont to treat their weak and sickly children. A stranger, a careless observer might have considered that Mrs. Thornton’s manner to her children betokened far more love to Fanny than to John. But such a one would have been deeply mistaken. The very daringness with which mother and son spoke out unpalatable truths, the one to the other, showed a reliance on the firm centre of each other’s souls, which the uneasy tenderness of Mrs. Thornton’s manner to her daughter, the shame with which she thought to hide the poverty of her child in all the grand qualities which she herself possessed unconsciously, and which she set so high a value upon in others—this shame, I say, betrayed the want of a secure resting-place for her affection. She never called her СКАЧАТЬ