"Margaret, I am a poor coward after all. I cannot bear to give pain. Iknow so well your mother"s married life has not been all she hoped--allshe had a right to expect--and this will be such a blow to her, that I havenever had the heart, the power to tell her. She must be told though,now," said he, looking wistfully at his daughter. Margaret was almostoverpowered with the idea that her mother knew nothing of it all, andyet the affair was so far advanced!
"Yes, indeed she must," said Margaret. "Perhaps, after all, she may not-Ohyes! she will, she must be shocked"--as the force of the blowreturned upon herself in trying to realise how another would take it.
"Where are we to go to?" said she at last, struck with a fresh wonder asto their future plans, if plans indeed her father had.
"To Milton-Northern," he answered, with a dull indifference, for he hadperceived that, although his daughter"s love had made her cling to him,and for a moment strive to soothe him with her love, yet the keenness ofthe pain was as fresh as ever in her mind.
"Milton-Northern! The manufacturing town in Darkshire?"
"Yes," said he, in the same despondent, indifferent way.
"Why there, papa?" asked she.
"Because there I can earn bread for my family. Because I know no onethere, and no one knows Helstone, or can ever talk to me about it."
"Bread for your family! I thought you and mamma had"--and then shestopped, checking her natural interest regarding their future life, as shesaw the gathering gloom on her father"s brow. But he, with his quickintuitive sympathy, read in her face, as in a mirror, the reflections of hisown moody depression, and turned it off with an effort.
"You shall be told all, Margaret. Only help me to tell your mother. Ithink I could do anything but that: the idea of her distress turns me sickwith dread. If I tell you all, perhaps you could break it to her tomorrow.
I am going out for the day, to bid Farmer Dobson and the poorpeople on Bracy Common good-bye. Would you dislike breaking it toher very much, Margaret?"Margaret did dislike it, did shrink from itmore than from anything she had ever had to do in her life before. Shecould not speak, all at once. Her father said, "You dislike it very much,don"t you, Margaret?" Then she conquered herself, and said, with a bright stronglook on her face:
"It is a painful thing, but it must be done, and I will do it as well as everI can. You must have many painful things to do."
Mr. Hale shook his head despondingly: he pressed her hand in token ofgratitude. Margaret was nearly upset again into a burst of crying. Toturn her thoughts, she said: "Now tell me, papa, what our plans are. Youand mamma have some money, independent of the income from theliving, have not you? Aunt Shaw has, I know."
"Yes. I suppose we have about a hundred and seventy pounds a year ofour own. Seventy of that has always gone to Frederick, since he hasbeen abroad. I don"t know if he wants it all," he continued in a hesitatingmanner. "He must have some pay for serving with the Spanish army."
"Frederick must not suffer," said Margaret, decidedly; "in a foreigncountry; so unjustly treated by his own. A hundred is left Could notyou, and I, and mamma live on a hundred a year in some very cheap-veryquiet part of England? Oh! I think we could."
"No!" said Mr. Hale. "That would not answer. I must do something. Imust make myself busy, to keep off morbid thoughts. Besides, in acountry parish I should be so painfully reminded of Helstone, and myduties here. I could not bear it, Margaret. And a hundred a year wouldgo a very little way, after the necessary wants of housekeeping are met,towards providing your mother with all the comforts she has beenaccustomed to, and ought to have. No: we must go to Milton. That issettled. I can always decide better by myself, and not influenced bythose whom I love," said he, as a half apology for having arranged somuch before he had told any one of his family of his intentions. "Icannot stand objections. They make me so undecided."
Margaret resolved to keep silence. After all, what did it signify wherethey went, compared to the one terrible change?
Mr. Hale continued: "A few months ago, when my misery of doubtbecame more than I could bear without speaking, I wrote to Mr. Bell-youremember Mr. Bell, Margaret?"
"No; I never saw him, I think. But I know who he is. Frederick"sgodfather--your old tutor at Oxford, don"t you mean?"
