As noted before (in the prologue), I will be posting approximately one chapter in this story every two weeks. I hope you will enjoy spending time with Margaret and Thornton and seeing how their romance goes in a very different direction than what we are used to seeing! Please leave lots of reviews—I love to hear the little ding on my phone, letting me know that someone else has left feedback!—Elaine Owen
Chapter One
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love . . . .
Richard Hale, former rector of the Helstone church and now serving as a tutor in the northern town of Milton, read the familiar Bible passage and smiled wistfully.
Though he was no longer a minister of the Gospel the words still bestowed on him the comfort of their simple, direct truth. Hale made a point of reading from the Bible every day, followed by treatises from some of his favorite philosophers: Aristotle, Plato, Aquinas, Locke, and many others. The Bible nourished his soul and the philosophers nourished his mind. Both were as necessary to him as air, for Hale believed quite firmly that what built up one of these faculties would inevitably strengthen the other. To him there was no contradiction between divine revelation and the brightest, most inspired learning of men. He did his best to learn all he could of both.
It was a shame that more people in this busy manufacturing town of Milton did not give either their souls or their minds much attention. Most of them simply did not have the time.
There were two sorts of men living and working in Milton, Hale had decided after careful observation. Most of the men were ordinary workers, who spent long hours daily in one of the factories that dominated the principal town of the district. Life for these souls was a trial, an unceasing round of tedious hours spent behind one machine or another, working for a master. Their labor was mostly manual and was paid for by fixed hourly wages, wages that were usually enough to keep bread on the table and perhaps afford new clothes occasionally, but rarely more than that. They had no time for either spiritual or academic enlightenment.
The other sort of men, the masters, had enough leisure time for whatever they wished to pursue, but they lacked the desire. Rich in material goods and determined to make themselves even richer, they had no need nor hunger for anything else. Some of them had, indeed, acquired enough learning to add occasional comments on a subject in their club, or perhaps while drinking whiskey after dinner with other important men. They knew enough to nod sagely when Hale quoted Aristotle, "The whole is greater than the sum of its parts," but they could not explain what the axiom really meant. Nor did many of them appreciate the Biblical admonition, "The love of money is the fruit of all evil." No, in all this town, truly sympathetic minds were hard to find. And once found, it was painful to lose such fellowship.
John Thornton had been just such a man.
"Margaret," Hale said, setting aside his Bible for the moment to address his daughter. "I have what may seem to be an impertinent question. Feel free to leave it unanswered if you wish. But I wonder: do you have any reason to believe Mr. Thornton ever cared for you?"
Margaret Hale, folding table linens on the dining room table, started and nearly dropped the towel she was holding. The question was surprising and yet somehow expected. She should have known that sooner or later her father would begin to question why John Thornton, the mill master who had become one of her father's closest friends, was choosing to spend less and less time at the Hale family home.
Eventually Margaret managed to compose herself enough to nod briefly in response to her father's question. "Yes, father, I believe he did."
"Did he propose to you?" Mr. Hale asked, surprised.
Margaret hesitated, then nodded.
"And you refused him?" Mr. Hale felt his heart sink.
"I did not see how I could do otherwise. I am sorry, father. I ought to have told you."
"There is nothing to be sorry for, Margaret. I am sure you were honest with him, and that is what matters. I did wonder why he was not coming here for lessons on Greek philosophy as often as he used to. He always seems to have a reason not to come now." The old tutor turned to gaze out the window at nothing in particular.
"There was so much else going on, with mother's illness," Margaret began apologetically, but her father stopped her.
"No, no, you did nothing wrong. I should have realized . . . but I had no suspicion until Mr. Bell started asking questions about the two of you. I thought John was only here to study." He gave her a sad smile.
Margaret felt a surge of remorse. Her father had enjoyed discussing the ancient classics with the intelligent owner of Marlborough Mills. Mr. Hale continued. "If his presence makes you feel uncomfortable, Margaret, I will ask him to stay away. I can meet him somewhere else for our lessons."
Margaret shook her head. "No, father. You have so few friends in this town. I will manage."
"I hope you were kind in your refusal." It was more a statement than a question. "I would not want to see John hurt."
She folded a dish towel and smoothed it with her hand to avoid meeting her father's gaze. "I have done nothing that I would not do again, Father."
There was a long pause, during which time Richard gazed out the window again, his expression troubled. His fingertips beat a restless rhythm on the tabletop. At length he turned back to his daughter
"Hadn't you begun to think more kindly of Thornton, Margaret? I even thought, at one time, that you might be starting to have a favorable view of him."
"Mr. Thornton proposed some time ago," Margaret answered, "before mother- went away." Her voice broke for a moment and she paused to regain control. "Since then, my opinion of him has changed somewhat. I have come to value his friendship, especially since I know what that friendship means to you. But I do not love him in the way he loves me."
Her father's eyes softened. "So he told you that he loves you."
The memory flashed into Margaret's mind, as vividly as if Mr. Thornton were standing here before her now. "You look as if you thought it tainted you to be loved by me. You cannot avoid it. Nay, I, if I would, cannot cleanse you from it. But I would not, if I could. I have never loved any woman before: my life has been too busy, my thoughts too much absorbed with other things. Now I love, and will love. But do not be afraid of too much expression on my part."
Oh, yes, he had loved her once. She had heard love, passionate love, in the fervent words he had spoken the day he offered himself to her. She had sensed something of its depth in the tears in his eyes when he turned away after her rejection. But that love was gone now. Margaret knew he looked at her differently since seeing her on the train platform at Outwood Station that night.
"A man like John does not give his heart lightly, Margaret. If you could learn to care for him, he would be a most excellent husband for you. He has a clever mind and an upright character-"
"But I do not care for him, father, and so the rest does not matter." Margaret broke in hastily. "Even if I were to come to feel differently, it would make no difference. A woman can hardly go to a man and tell him that she has changed her mind, can she?" She smiled at her father playfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
"No, I suppose you are right," Mr. Hale said regretfully. "Still, I wish things had turned out differently for you, Margaret. What will happen to you when I am gone, if you have no husband to support you? What will you do? You would not want to live with Frederick in Spain, would you?"
Her father was speaking of her older brother, who had been involved in a mutiny at sea and was forced to flee England for Spain. He had recently married a Spanish girl, Dolores, and expressed a desire to renounce any tie between him and his native country. Margaret thought it unlikely they would ever see each other again.
"Nothing will happen to you, Father, for many years yet," she answered brightly. "And when it does, if I need to I can make my home with Aunt Shaw, or even Cousin Edith and her husband."
"Perhaps you might be willing to reconsider your answer to Mr. Thornton," her father began, but Margaret broke in hastily.
"I am not worried for the future, and you should not be either. Now, since I am finished with this laundry, let us go into your little room and read over some Plato together until dinner. We will let the future sort itself out."
Mr. Hale nodded at his daughter and agreed. Margaret gathered the linens in her arms and walked out of the room, putting a firm end to the conversation.