Chapter 09- IS MISS HALE SO REMARKABLE FOR THE TRUTH?
Note: Woman clothed in sun reference from Hannibal. This chapter contains some philosophical concepts and such. I am not an expert in the subject, but I tried my best to understand before writing.
It was Friday. The morning was bleak and it felt more smoky than usual. Margaret woke up, completed her bath and basic chores, before setting to come downstairs. Dixon had already started preparing breakfast and Mary would be coming anytime soon. Her father was free that day and at home, due to some repairs going on in the Lyceum Hall as she remembered him telling her. Mr. Bell would be joining them later in the afternoon, and she was looking forward to his company.
Today Mr. Thornton will be visiting for his usual lectures. Margaret was exhausted and shuddered to face him again and also his harsh scrutiny. The fact that she was innocent did not help ease her mind, as she now lay low in the eyes of the man she admired and adored the most. Not to forget the awful conversation she had with the Latimer women. Word must have reached the Thorntons undoubtedly. But Margaret was beyond the point of caring about it, and anything honestly. Her mind orbited over how the mill master went ahead to think the worst of her, and also how his affections have possibly changed their course, from her to another woman.
Margaret was not one to hate other people. At most, she will be stubborn in her opinions and will not back down. That was all. She hardly gave people space in her mind for hatred. Same was the case with Miss Latimer. Somehow, she started to come to terms with the possibility. She will not lower herself to fight for a man's affections, and more so Miss Latimer was a genteel and shy woman, someone who would obviously fit the Thorntons' expectations. Unlike her.
"So be it", Margaret thought. "I tried my best to convince him of the honesty of my actions, but god forbid, he doesn't have the mind to listen. I shall put up with the lessons for my father. That's all. There shall be no grudge against him in my heart, but yes, I feel disappointed that he would think so ill of me without considering an opposite possibility of my presence in Outwood. I am deeply saddened indeed, and shall always be."
The mill was noisy as every day. There was no difference in the schedule of the mill's functioning. The master and men were busy making the most of the day. But the workers started to sense trouble despite the usualness of the work. They understood that some trouble was brewing up, and it might be just a few more months before a situation of the most dreadful kind came to their ears.
But despite the uncertainty, the workers felt a distinct respect towards Mr. Thornton for the first time in their lives. The entire town knew him to be aloof yet honest. He was fairer in his dealings with the hands and many a times, meted out justice with the best integrity to the people of Milton as magistrate. The womenfolk were indebted to him for being saved many times by drunk husbands, atrocious men trying to violently take hold of them, and such crimes. On the other hand, the men were loyal to him as the riot did indeed bring the master and the men on an equal ground. Not to forget his kind deed of setting up a mill canteen. Yes, the workers had to pay for their plate, but nevertheless, they went back home with filled tummies. Starvation was the worst sort of predicament, and thankfully the workers of Marlborough Mills need not choose other ill ways to ease their and their family's hunger.
Mr. Thornton was locked up in his office. He was scribbling in his little pocket book, and also cutting out whatever he wrote. His calculations and plans simply didn't work out. For the mill to stay stable for the next few months would be a deadly challenge. Yes, the next six months will decide the fate, not just of the Thorntons but of almost one and fifty families who were a part of Marlborough Mills.
Just then, Higgins knocked on the door. Mr. Thornton asked him to enter. Higgins was holding a note and held it out towards Mr. Thornton.
"A note for ye. The messenger boy brought it but I sent him away as I had to talk to ye about the carding room and the store room. Here, take it."
The master acknowledged and took it with a nod. He guessed the sender correctly, it was from Mr. Hale. Mr. Thornton had sent him a note asking if he could come a little early, by afternoon four o'clock as he had the monthly club meeting to attend by seven. He wasn't interested to attend the meeting anyway, as the discussions would revolve around speculation and Watson's scheme. And also Slickson's dry double-meaning retorts. But he wanted to become aware of the other master's troubles with the mill as well, as it would help him to form decisions and opinions accordingly. He was also aware that the Lyceum Hall was undergoing renovation on that particular day, so probably Mr. Hale would be at home.
The note said that he was more than welcome to come at the time he preferred. That was expected of Mr. Hale, for he took pleasure in their discussions as much as Mr. Thornton did as well. The lingering discomfort on facing his teacher's daughter was nibbling him like a prick on his skin, which he wasn't able to locate and discard. He wouldn't even if it continued to tear his skin and burn.
He started to come to terms with it. The pain of hurting Margaret that day never eased but he was also not able to help it. His words came out as an action of guarding his heart and wounded pride. He couldn't believe even now that such a woman could behave in that way, but it was what it is. Acceptance was the first step towards healing, and apology was still pending. He was determined to get it done today. A simple yet heartfelt apology, at least for the sake of her father, his best friend and teacher.
He sifted through his file rack and picked out relevant documents as he would also be meeting Mr. Bell. He had asked him to discuss certain things of their business, although Mr. Thornton couldn't see exactly what he had to say. But he must be prepared.
Higgins and Mr. Thornton then set off to their usual rounds. The former was busy with work, while the latter kept glancing at his pocket watch. Four o'clock cannot come sooner. There was still five hours to go until he could see his beloved in the pretense of gaining knowledge.
Mr. Bell reached Crampton on time. He wanted to get out of the confines of the hotel. Its service was the best Milton could offer. But when it came to mindful hospitality, the Hales' household was pleasant and blissful. What's more, he wanted to try for the nth number of times to try to understand what's bothering the master and the maiden. Today, he hoped, should put all misunderstandings to rest. He was carrying a few files just as a pretense. For god sake, it should work. He hardly had chances such as today where he could meet Thornton at Crampton.
He was welcomed in by Dixon with a warm smile. She started to prattle about the smokiness of that particular day, which didn't go unnoticed by Mr. Bell himself. Was it trying to foreshadow something? He asked himself, before responding to Dixon's talk.
Mr. Hale entered the drawing room in minutes of his arrival. He saw Mr. Bell carrying a few documents, which looked more like agreements. Mr. Bell answered him before he questioned.
"Hale, I hope you wouldn't mind if I take some time of your pupil to discuss business. Of course, after your discussion. It concerns the mill and his tenancy, nothing much."
"Ah yes, why not? I will not be of any hindrance! Not that I understand business and commerce much, anyway."
Upstairs, the young lady was pacing around in her room like an angry agitated kitten. She was dressed neat and clean, trying to maintain a neutral composure, but in no vain. Her heart thrummed like never before. It seemed ages ago since she last met Mr. Thornton and heard his confession of no more love for her. Yet, deep in her heart, she prayed. She prayed if he could understand her a little, if by chance, his heart suggested that she could be truthful and righteous.
After a few moments of talk, Mr. Thornton joined the two men in the drawing room. He was welcomed warmly by Mr. Hale, but with that typical smirk by his landlord. Not that Mr. Thornton minded the intrusion. His eyes roamed the room and the house unsteadily for someone else…
"Searching for something, Thornton?", Mr. Bell broke the silence.
"No one, I mean nothing, of course." The reply came quick and Mr. Bell didn't fail to notice it. The master was expecting to see Margaret and his mind questioning whether the young woman would join them today or not. She should have come already if she wanted to. Mr. Bell took the charge and asked Mr. Hale himself.
"Hale, will Margaret be joining us? I haven't seen her yet! Is she ill?"
"Oh no, that is she isn't ill or anything. She must be cleaning her room, I suppose. She will be joining us, she did say yesterday that she will."
Mr. Bell gave his signature smug look to Mr. Thornton. It was returned by the master's terrific scowl. If all went correct as he hoped, today might bring the lovers together. Or at least, clear the air between them.
Margaret was able to hear the muffled voices of the men downstairs. She sighed and went down the stairs and hesitantly into the drawing room. She had decided already not to glance at Mr. Thornton. But she felt his burning gaze already and it was too much to bear. She was welcomed by the men and sat herself on the chair in front of the them. She felt as if she was sitting in front of a jury of some sorts, which was commissioned to investigate her.
Her glance went a second towards Mr. Thornton, only to see that he was already glaring at him. As for him, he couldn't help but notice how the bright fire gave her a gracious look. Clothing her in a cape of gold. She looked like a woman clothed in sun, as beautiful and marvelous a woman could be. Her pale skin was only accentuated by the strong embering yellows of the fire, making her dark navy blue skirt look more prominent over her curves. She sat like a queen on a throne, only her crown was missing. His heart shrank in distress, knowing all too well that the object of his love stayed right in front him, but seemed unattainably distant like the sun itself.
The discussion started. Ironically or maybe not, the topic at hand was truth. What Aristotle and Plato told about truth? Mr. Thornton felt that truth no longer held an interest anymore in him, as according to him, he was the best judge to draw his inferences by what he saw. In this case, his thoughts on the subject relied heavily on Margaret and her actions, and he hardly gave a damn about what the dead philosophers had professed. She looked nervous, no wonder why. Her fingers were fidgety, her eyes fluttering like a restless butterfly. It hurt him that he was the cause of her discomfort, as much as she was of his.
Mr. Hale stated- "So Plato's ideas of truth are universally acknowledged as they are as lucid as they can be put. He states that truth is not relative, not dependent but an entity in itself."
"Does that mean that truth is objective?", Mr. Thornton questioned.
"Yes, exactly. Plato was not like the sophists. He believed that truth requires not a passive approach but an active one. One cannot get nearer to the truth if he's inactive in his search. His approach should also be combined with rationality."
It was Mr. Bell's turn to comment. "Rationality, hmmm. Not everyone uses it as soon as one leads himself to believe what he sees."
"True, that what we see might not be true. Yet, sometimes, all facts and evidence rely heavily on supporting what was seen. In such a case, visual evidence gets the vote. I speak from my experience as a magistrate", Mr. Thornton spoke with an edge and confidence.
Margaret noticed how the conversation was steering on. A moment earlier, he seemed reclusive and lost in his thoughts. But now, given the chance to speak, his usual authoritative tone started to surface. She listened carefully as he was not commenting on truth in general, but about her actions, although indirectly.
"Possibly true, but remember that truth is objective? So, our beliefs on what we encountered alone might not lead us to achieve truth."
"If I am correct, there are three conditions proposed by Plato to be considered while seeking truth? Aren't there, Hale?", Mr. Bell asked.
"Yes, there are three necessary conditions, each one important. First- the premise or idea should be believed, second- that premise must be true, and third- the premise must be supported by reason."
Margaret could not be more uncomfortable. Her curiosity was piqued now and she couldn't help but find how much the topic related to her situation. She quickly found her mind offering her the best response-
"And sometimes, people get stuck within the first condition itself. We often believe what we see that our mind registers it as strongly as it could, blemishing the possibility of even thinking of other reasons."
The answer hit its mark, and while Mr. Bell and Mr. Hale nodded in agreement, Mr. Thornton's mind was racing. Her reply came as a hard response to his previous statement and he was suddenly confused.
"Miss Hale, so do you mean to say that you are so remarkable for the truth?"said Mr. Thornton, bitterly. The moment he had done so, he could have bitten his tongue out. What was he? And why should he stab her with her shame in this way? How evil he was to-night: possessed by ill-humour at being detained so long from her; irritated by the mention of some name, because he thought it belonged to a more successful lover; now ill-tempered because he had been unable to cope, with a light heart, against one who was trying, by gay and careless speeches, to make the evening pass pleasantly away,—the kind old friend to all parties, whose manner by this time might be well known to Mr. Thornton, who had been acquainted with him for many years. And then to speak to Margaret as he had done! (Gaskell, North and South)
Margaret stared in silence.
The time was running out and Mr. Thornton knew that he had to patch up the situation somehow. To sit in his teacher's home and retort at his own daughter so cruelly! He felt his adrenaline rush through his veins, beating his heart like a child juggling with a ball.
"I mean, are we all so remarkable for the truth? What I wish to say is that sometimes, one's experiences in life, in general, shapes our perception. No, I don't condemn that. For it could not be false entirely, to judge and assess situations, provided, as I said, all facts and evidence depend heavily on supporting the premise or notion further, perhaps."
There, he added an extra fitting to ease the shameful barb he had thrown at her. The humiliation did not erase from their faces, but Mr. Hale was quick to rub it off and continue. Mr. Bell's playful smirk vanished and he glared at him, with a tinge of irritation.
Margaret could clearly see that he was trying to manage by distracting the conversation. She couldn't let the comment go through without responding- "I do believe that no matter what, some people don't deserve to know the truth. If one believes that he deserves to achieve the truth, he will not be running away from it."
Mr. Hale fumbled but it was nothing unusual as the two had always been at odds. He thought it best to move ahead before the two youngsters start arguing. "I have whole faith in your truthfulness and its idea, John. Of course, to be a magistrate and also to be able to think carefully considering all points is indeed a gift which very few possess. Moving on, Aristotle's definition of truth is more vague yet to the point I suppose. It doesn't hold much interest in me, maybe because I prefer Plato in everything. I will read out the definition- "To say of what is that it is not, or of what is not that it is, is false, while to say of what is that it is, and of what is not that it is not, is true". There, it is. Simply put."
The conversation held no interest to the rest of the three however. Mr. Thornton wanted to run away from the home as fast as he could. He glanced at Margaret who kept her eyes fixed on her lap. Her hair hid her eyes well, but he could witness her sudden panic. She almost looked as if she will recoil in the chair like a snail. Or like a mimosa plant, when touched closes its leaves defending it from harm. And her words were ringing in his ears like a chimed bell. Running away from the truth? Am I, by any chance, believing an absurd idea of her actions? Or does she simply imply that I didn't let myself listen to her explanation that the man was her fiance? He asked himself.
For those words, Mr. Thornton could have struck her cheeks- Margaret thought. This was the height of humiliation she ever faced in her life. Her sadness slowly turned into defensive anger. "All for trying to save my dear brother from the gallows! No abominable thing was done by me to deserve such an insult to which I should be no recipient at all!", she silently thought, tears struggling to prick her eyes.
Mr. Bell was equally annoyed and waited to strike Thornton with his words when the time came. As for now, he cautiously fetched Thornton's files and placed them on the other side of the shelf, without him or anyone noticing.
Margaret excused herself carefully and went to fetch the tea tray. She was glad of the excuse as she had to recompose herself for a minute. She wiped the tears quickly and entered the room, tray in hand. She poured tea in three cups, handed them over to Mr. Bell and her father. Mr. Thornton was about to fetch his cup from her hands, but Margaret simply placed it on the tray and pushed the teapoy towards then exited the drawing room, her face hung low. Mr. Thornton was hurt by what happened and wished he had not come at all.