North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell [best love story novels in english TXT] 📗
- Author: Elizabeth Gaskell
- Performer: 0140434240
Book online «North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell [best love story novels in english TXT] 📗». Author Elizabeth Gaskell
‘Nay,’ said he, ‘I will ask no farther. I may be putting temptation in your way. At present, believe me, your secret is safe with me. But you run great risks, allow me to say, in being so indiscreet. I am now only speaking as a friend of your father’s: if I had any other thought or hope, of course that is at an end. I am quite disinterested.’
‘I am aware of that,’ said Margaret, forcing herself to speak in an indifferent, careless way. ‘I am aware of what I must appear to you, but the secret is another person’s, and I cannot explain it without doing him harm.’
‘I have not the slightest wish to pry into the gentleman’s secrets,’ he said, with growing anger. ‘My own interest in you is—simply that of a friend. You may not believe me, Miss Hale, but it is—in spite of the persecution I’m afraid I threatened you with at one time—but that is all given up; all passed away. You believe me, Miss Hale?’
‘Yes,’ said Margaret, quietly and sadly.
‘Then, really, I don’t see any occasion for us to go on walking together. I thought, perhaps you might have had something to say, but I see we are nothing to each other. If you’re quite convinced, that any foolish passion on my part is entirely over, I will wish you good afternoon.’ He walked off very hastily.
‘What can he mean?’ thought Margaret,—‘what could he mean by speaking so, as if I were always thinking that he cared for me, when I know he does not; he cannot. His mother will have said all those cruel things about me to him. But I won’t care for him. I surely am mistress enough of myself to control this wild, strange, miserable feeling, which tempted me even to betray my own dear Frederick, so that I might but regain his good opinion—the good opinion of a man who takes such pains to tell me that I am nothing to him. Come poor little heart! be cheery and brave. We’ll be a great deal to one another, if we are thrown off and left desolate.’
Her father was almost startled by her merriment this afternoon. She talked incessantly, and forced her natural humour to an unusual pitch; and if there was a tinge of bitterness in much of what she said; if her accounts of the old Harley Street set were a little sarcastic, her father could not bear to check her, as he would have done at another time—for he was glad to see her shake off her cares. In the middle of the evening, she was called down to speak to Mary Higgins; and when she came back, Mr. Hale imagined that he saw traces of tears on her cheeks. But that could not be, for she brought good news—that Higgins had got work at Mr. Thornton’s mill. Her spirits were damped, at any rate, and she found it very difficult to go on talking at all, much more in the wild way that she had done. For some days her spirits varied strangely; and her father was beginning to be anxious about her, when news arrived from one or two quarters that promised some change and variety for her. Mr. Hale received a letter from Mr. Bell, in which that gentleman volunteered a visit to them; and Mr. Hale imagined that the promised society of his old Oxford friend would give as agreeable a turn to Margaret’s ideas as it did to his own. Margaret tried to take an interest in what pleased her father; but she was too languid to care about any Mr. Bell, even though he were twenty times her godfather. She was more roused by a letter from Edith, full of sympathy about her aunt’s death; full of details about herself, her husband, and child; and at the end saying, that as the climate did not suit, the baby, and as Mrs. Shaw was talking of returning to England, she thought it probable that Captain Lennox might sell out, and that they might all go and live again in the old Harley Street house; which, however, would seem very incomplete without Margaret. Margaret yearned after that old house, and the placid tranquillity of that old well-ordered, monotonous life. She had found it occasionally tiresome while it lasted; but since then she had been buffeted about, and felt so exhausted by this recent struggle with herself, that she thought that even stagnation would be a rest and a refreshment. So she began to look towards a long visit to the Lennoxes, on their return to England, as to a point—no, not of hope—but of leisure, in which she could regain her power and command over herself. At present it seemed to her as if all subjects tended towards Mr. Thornton; as if she could not for-get him with all her endeavours. If she went to see the Higginses, she heard of him there; her father had resumed their readings together, and quoted his opinions perpetually; even Mr. Bell’s visit brought his tenant’s name upon the tapis; for he wrote word that he believed he must be occupied some great part of his time with Mr. Thornton, as a new lease was in preparation, and the terms of it must be agreed upon.
OUT OF TUNE
‘I have no wrong, where I can claim no right, Naught ta’en me fro, where I have nothing had, Yet of my woe I cannot so be quite; Namely, since that another may he glad With that, that thus in sorrow makes me sad.’ WYATT.
Margaret had not expected much pleasure to herself from Mr. Bell’s visit—she had only looked forward to it on her father’s account, but when her godfather came, she at once fell into the most natural position of friendship in the world. He said she had no merit in being what she was, a girl so entirely after his own heart; it was an hereditary power which she had, to walk in and take possession of his regard; while she, in reply, gave him much credit for being so fresh and young under his Fellow’s cap and gown.
‘Fresh and young in warmth and kindness, I mean. I’m afraid I must own, that I think your opinions are the oldest and mustiest I have met with this long time.’
‘Hear this daughter of yours, Hale Her residence in Milton has quite corrupted her. She’s a democrat, a red republican, a member of the Peace Society, a socialist—’
‘Papa, it’s all because I’m standing up for the progress of commerce. Mr. Bell would have had it keep still at exchanging wild-beast skins for acorns.’
‘No, no. I’d dig the ground and grow potatoes. And I’d shave the wild-beast skins and make the wool into broad cloth. Don’t exaggerate, missy. But I’m tired of this bustle. Everybody rushing over everybody, in their hurry to get rich.’
‘It is not every one who can sit comfortably in a set of college rooms, and let his riches grow without any exertion of his own. No doubt there is many a man here who would be thankful if his property would increase as yours has done, without his taking any trouble about it,’ said Mr. Hale.
‘I don’t believe they would. It’s the bustle and the struggle they like. As for sitting still, and learning from the past, or shaping out the future by faithful work done in a prophetic spirit—Why! Pooh! I don’t believe there’s a man in Milton who knows how to sit still; and it is a great art.’
‘Milton people, I suspect, think Oxford men don’t know how to move. It would be a very good thing if they mixed a little more.’
‘It might be good for the Miltoners. Many things might be good for them which would be very disagreeable for other people.’
‘Are you not a Milton man yourself?’ asked Margaret. ‘I should have thought you would have been proud of your town.’
‘I confess, I don’t see what there is to be proud of If you’ll only come to Oxford, Margaret, I will show you a place to glory in.’
‘Well!’ said Mr. Hale, ‘Mr. Thornton is coming to drink tea with us to-night, and he is as proud of Milton as you of Oxford. You two must try and make each other a little more liberal-minded.’
‘I don’t want to be more liberal-minded, thank you,’ said Mr. Bell.
‘Is Mr. Thornton coming to tea, papa?’ asked Margaret in a low voice.
‘Either to tea or soon after. He could not tell. He told us not to wait.’
Mr. Thornton had determined that he would make no inquiry of his mother as to how far she had put her project into execution of speaking to Margaret about the impropriety of her conduct. He felt pretty sure that, if this interview took place, his mother’s account of what passed at it would only annoy and chagrin him, though he would all the time be aware of the colouring which it received by passing through her mind. He shrank from hearing Margaret’s very name mentioned; he, while he blamed her—while he was jealous of her—while he renounced her—he loved her sorely, in spite of himself. He dreamt of her; he dreamt she came dancing towards him with outspread arms, and with a lightness and gaiety which made him loathe her, even while it allured him. But the impression of this figure of Margaret—with all Margaret’s character taken out of it, as completely as if some evil spirit had got possession of her form—was so deeply stamped upon his imagination, that when he wakened he felt hardly able to separate the Una from the Duessa; and the dislike he had to the latter seemed to envelope and disfigure the former Yet he was too proud to acknowledge his weakness by avoiding the sight of her. He would neither seek an opportunity of being in her company nor avoid it. To convince himself of his power of self-control, he lingered over every piece of business this afternoon; he forced every movement into unnatural slowness and deliberation; and it was consequently past eight o’clock before he reached Mr. Hale’s. Then there were business arrangements to be transacted in the study with Mr. Bell; and the latter kept on, sitting over the fire, and talking wearily, long after all business was transacted, and when they might just as well have gone upstairs. But Mr. Thornton would not say a word about moving their quarters; he chafed and chafed, and thought Mr. Bell a most prosy companion; while Mr. Bell returned the compliment in secret, by considering Mr. Thornton about as brusque and curt a fellow as he had ever met with, and terribly gone off both in intelligence and manner. At last, some slight noise in the room above suggested the desirableness of moving there. They found Margaret with a letter open before her, eagerly discussing its contents with her father. On the entrance of the gentlemen, it was immediately put aside; but Mr. Thornton’s eager senses caught some few words of Mr. Hale’s to Mr. Bell.
‘A letter from Henry Lennox. It makes Margaret very hopeful.’
Mr. Bell nodded. Margaret was red as a rose when Mr. Thornton looked at her. He had the greatest mind in the world to get up and go out of the room that very instant, and never set foot in the house again.
‘We were thinking,’ said Mr. Hale, ‘that you and Mr. Thornton had taken Margaret’s advice, and were each trying to convert the other, you were so long in the study.’
‘And you thought there would be nothing left of us but an opinion, like the Kilkenny cat’s tail.
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