Margaret's father took her through the entrance of the hotel, and leaving her at the foot of the staircase, went to the address of the landlord of the house they had fixed upon. Just as Margaret had her hand on the door of their sitting-room, she was followed by a quick-stepping waiter. 'I beg your pardon, ma'am. The gentleman was gone so quickly, I had no time to tell him. Mr. Thornton called almost directly after you left; and, as I understood from what the gentleman said, you would be back in an hour, I told him so, and he came again about five minutes ago, and said he would wait for Mr. Hale. He is in your room now, ma'am.'

Margaret thanked him and continued through the door fearlessly, accustomed as she was to society. Mr. Thornton was no more frightful a personage than another and she had, during her time in her Aunt Shaw's home, certainly come into contact with several daunting individuals. There was yet another reason for thinking well of him: he had shown himself to be amenable and had, by his correspondence with her father, already provided some measure of relief to the oppressive feeling of uncertainty in removing to a locale entirely unknown.

As Mr. Thornton had been expecting a middle aged clergyman with a small daughter, he was rather discomposed and astonished as Margaret progressed into the room. She did not at all answer his expectations and, further, was quite beautiful – was this perhaps Mr. Hale's daughter? She did not appear astonished at his presence in their sitting room; he, therefore, reasoned that she must indeed be Miss Hale, else he would have been the recipient of much ill will and distress.

'Mr. Thornton, I believe!' said Margaret, after a half-instant's pause, during which his unready words would not come. 'Will you sit down? My father brought me to the door, not a minute ago, but unfortunately he was not told that you were here, and he has gone away on some business. But he will come back almost directly. I am sorry you have had the trouble of calling twice.' She spoke gently but with conviction.

Mr. Thornton was in habits of authority himself, but she seemed to assume some kind of rule over him at once. He had been getting impatient at the loss of his time on a market-day, the moment before she appeared, yet now he calmly took a seat at her bidding. 'Do you know where it is that Mr. Hale has gone to? Perhaps I might be able to find him.'

Margaret told him of her father's destination – the landlord of a house for let in the suburb of Crampton. She apologized yet again to Mr. Thornton for any lapse in conversation, as she would endeavor to entertain him, despite the fatigue from their travel, until her father returned. Mr. Thornton, who had been struggling to repress his admiration, could no longer, as her conduct was unexpectedly cordial for one used to living in the Southern counties. In her innocence, Margaret detected nothing of his regard and perceived only that he was a man unused to conversing on topics not related to business.

On Mr. Hale's entrance, Mr. Thornton stood to greet him, as if for an old friend, and the two men spoke at length regarding Mr. Bell, the landlord of Marlborough Mills and Mr. Hale's great friend. Margaret removed herself to sit near the window, relaxing for the first time since their leaving Helstone. All would be well, she thought with hope, and began to quietly study the street seen below.

In her exhaustion, she did not attend the conversation and, thus, was unaware when her father spoke to her. He had to repeat his words respecting the landlord's disinclination toward compromise, which caught Mr. Thornton's notice. He had, of course, heard what Mr. Hale had said of the unsightly paper in the Crampton house but now determined that it must have been Miss Hale who had objected to it. This was perfectly reasonable, as Miss Hale had such a superior appearance about her that he should be ashamed of assuming that rather vulgar building would suit.

Mr. Thornton tried to tell himself that he was not watching Margaret that she thought of him as a great rough fellow without refinement, despite her soft speech and not unkind look. Mr. Hale, meanwhile, with his kindly country hospitality, was pressing him to stay to luncheon with them. Mr. Thornton felt that it would have been very inconvenient for him to do so but then Margaret softly seconded her father's invitation and so they three were to lunch together.

When they removed to their new house in Milton, the obnoxious papers were gone. The landlord received their thanks very composedly; and let them think, if they liked, that he had relented from his expressed determination not to repaper. There was no particular need to tell them, that what he did not care to do for a Mr. Hale, unknown in Milton, he was only too glad to do at the one short sharp remonstrance of Mr. Thornton, the wealthy manufacturer.

Margaret and Dixon fell to the business of unpacking and organizing their new residence in Crampton. Mr. Hale had gone over the accounts and, after calculating the entire cost of their removal, had become alarmed at what a great amount of money had been paid out. Margaret was struck anew by the strong contrast between their current circumstances to that which had come before; all that had occurred whilst she was residing in London - the habitual dinners, the calls, the shopping, the dancing evenings, were all going on, going on forever, though her Aunt Shaw and Edith were no longer there; and she, of course, was even less missed – and she, Margaret, was here in smoky Milton. The only remnant left to her of that old life was that which remained in her memory; vivid thoughts she could take out and examine minutely at her leisure, The smooth sea of that old life closed up, without a mark left to tell where they had all been.

Despite her broken-hearted homesickness, Margaret meditated on the harsh, unforgiving judgments that would be applied to Mr. Hale's choice, his principled decision to give up his parsonage. If she had been still on Harley Street at Aunt Shaw's, what evil would have been assigned to her from her association with her father? She pondered on what might have been and was the more sanguine about their present for it.

One day Margaret and her father had been as far as the fields that lay around the town; it was early spring, and she had gathered some of the hedge and ditch flowers, dog-violets, lesser celandines, and the like, with an unspoken lament in her heart for the sweet profusion of the South. Her father had left her to go into Milton upon some business; on the road home, she met some humble friends, who she had frequently happened upon during her walks. The girl looked wistfully at the flowers, and, acting on a sudden impulse, Margaret offered them to her. Her pale blue eyes lightened up as she took them, and her father spoke for her.

'Thank yo, Miss. Bessy'll think a deal o' them flowers; that hoo will; and I shall think a deal o' yor kindness."

Margaret asked their name and place of residence, as she meant to call upon them.

After a moment, the father answered, 'It's Nicholas Higgins. Hoo's called Bessy Higgins. We put up at nine Frances Street, second turn to th' left at after yo've past th' Goulden Dragon.'

Margaret thanked him and assured Nicholas that she merely wished it as a gesture of friendship and would like to visit, if it was acceptable to him. They parted ways with civility on both sides.

The day after this meeting with Higgins and his daughter, Mr. Hale came upstairs into the little drawing-room at an unusual hour. As was his wont, he wandered about the room, staring at various objects, and behaved in such a manner as Margaret became aware that he desired to delay the telling of a matter.

At last, he declared, 'My dear! I've asked Mr. Thornton to come to tea to-night.'

Mrs. Hale was displeased with the news and Margaret noted the expression of pain that overspread her mother's countenance, which had been more frequent of late.

Margaret replied, 'No, Mamma, it will be well. We will give him a welcome, and some cocoa-nut cakes. Dixon will be flattered if we ask her to make some.'

It was at that precise time, that a similar scene was being enacted in Mr. Thornton's house. Mrs. Thornton was seated, working, in her dining-room. She heard what she believed to be her son and called him. He opened the door and showed himself.

'What has brought you home so early? I thought you were going to tea with that friend of Mr. Bell's; that Mr.

Hale.'

'So I am, mother; I am come home to dress!'

His mother exclaimed, 'Dress! humph! When I was a girl, young men were satisfied with dressing once in a day. Why should you dress to go and take a cup of tea with an old parson?'

Mr. Thornton dutifully responded, 'Mr. Hale is a gentleman, and his wife and daughter are ladies.'

'Wife and daughter! Do they teach too? What do they do? You have never mentioned them.'

'No! Mother, because I have never seen Mrs. Hale; I have only seen Miss Hale for an hour and one half.'

'Take care you don't get caught by a penniless girl, John.'

'I am not easily caught, mother, as I think you know. But I must not have Miss Hale spoken of in that way which, you know, is offensive to me.' He turned and shut the door and was gone.

Mrs. Thornton watched after him thoughtfully with only the merest glimmer of jealousy visible in her eyes.