The northbound train moved towards Milton much too quickly for John Thornton, who, in his current state of perfect happiness, wanted to savor these few hours with Margaret Hale as much as he could.
"Soon to be Margaret Thornton," he thought, allowing his lips to caress her forehead again. Margaret's actions at Marlborough Mills on the day of the riot had been ambiguous, misunderstood as sentiment for him instead of the act of contrition and protection it had been. But now-with her affectionate caresses and kisses freely bestowed on him in a public setting-they were as good as engaged. Still, the words needed to be said. There was another topic to settle first, however.
"Your brother," John murmured into Margaret's ear as her head reclined on his shoulder, his arm close about her. "Tell me about your brother."
"You know about Frederick?" Margaret's eyes, so near to his, looked up with surprise. He could easily lose himself in those blue depths, now filled with a warmth that was only for him.
"Higgins mentioned him. That was him with you at the Outwood station that night, was it not?" At her answering nod, he looked away in shame. "Forgive me, Margaret, for ever doubting you. You tried to tell me all was not as it appeared. You tried to tell me not to judge.""
"I could not tell you about Frederick, then. He was caught up in a mutiny at sea and although his actions may have been right before God they will never be right in the eyes of the law."
"But your father-he never even mentioned having a son!"
"It was too painful, I think," Margaret said, her eyes misting at the memory. "He missed Frederick so that even to think of him, let alone speak of him, was inexpressibly painful. We only spoke of him rarely."
"And Frederick came to see your mother?"
"Yes, as she lay dying. It was her last wish."
Thornton pressed the hand that was enveloped within his own, feeling it tremble a little at her painful memory. "I wish you had been able to tell me about him when I asked you for an explanation of your conduct."
"I could not do so. You were-and are-a magistrate. You had your duty."
"But surely you know I could never betray your trust! Besides my feelings for you, your father was my friend."
"It was not a question of trusting you, but of making you choose between your friendship and your sworn responsibilities. I would not bring that on your head."
"You might have said something later," Thornton said, still feeling the sting of her lack of faith in him.
"You had made your feelings for me plain, and I honored you for them. I would have been disappointed if you had felt otherwise. But that is all in the past now, I hope. You said you were only looking to the future," Margaret reminded him of his own words.
"Will that future be with you, Margaret?" Thornton asked as he gazed down at her, his voice betraying the anxiety he could not yet banish.
"It will, if you want it to," Margaret answered. It was her turn to look away in shame. "Please forgive me, Mr. Thornton, for ever misunderstanding the kind of man you are, for judging you when I knew no better, for failing to see-" She was stopped in her litany by the luminous look on Thornton's face, his mouth in a tenuous half smile.
"Call me John," he said softly.
She took a breath and began again. "Forgive me-John-for the uncaring way I answered you when you offered yourself to me-" He stopped her again.
"Just say John," he said again, as quietly as before. "That is all I need to hear from you. Say my name, and all is well."
"Dearest John!" she answered, caressing his face with her hand, and his smile widened and grew more certain as he leaned down to kiss her again.
"Marry me, Margaret," said Thornton, when they next paused for speech. "I want us to marry as soon as possible."
"Yes, John," she answered, and the train traveled on completely unnoticed by the two inhabitants of one particular car.