This is the second extension to the last chapter. I m afraid I have no master plan behind it. It's simply things I would have loved to see. We'll see where this leads me.

For the record - I have read N&S. I do know who wrote it. It wasn't Charles Dickens. I checked! ;)

But seriously now, I feel Mr Dickens owes us a considerable literary debt for obliging Mrs Gaskell (in her words) "to conform to the conditions imposed by the requirements of a weekly publications and likewise... certain advertising limits" whereby "the author found it impossible to develope the story in the manner originally intended, and, more especially, was compelled to hurry in events with improbable rapidity towards the close", leading to "obvious defects".

So without even the slightest whiff of a presumption that I can remedy what Mrs Gaskell could not, here is my second filler. Italics are mine and denote original text.

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'How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?' she whispered, after some time of delicious silence.

'Let me speak to her.'

'Oh, no! I owe it to her, -- but what will she say?'

'I can guess. Her first exclamation would be, "That man!" '

'Hush', said Margaret, 'or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, "That woman!" '

'Aye', Mr Thornton's laughed out warmly and pulled her yet closer to him. 'I dare say she might say something like that. But you two will get on capitally, I am sure of it' (and then rather thoughtfully, in a lower tone, as if uncertain if he wanted Margaret to hear it) 'Mind you, I should probably give my poor mother a fair warning. She is a fine and good-hearted woman, just a little shy.'

Margaret chuckled silently at the thought of Mrs Thornton's being described in such terms. Another time, she might have felled compelled to search for words that did more justice to the lady's formidable character, but at present her mind was otherwise engaged, so instead, she said brightly:

'Mr Thornton, you should return to Milton as soon as possible, should not you?'

He instinctively drew himself up and pulled back in puzzlement and dismay; his words coming out before he could moderate their unintended coldness:

'Excuse me, I did not think you would want me away so soon.'

Margaret blushed and replied hurriedly:

'No, please, you misunderstand me. I only thought that it would be rather necessary, if you were to secure as many of your workmen as possible before they found employment elsewhere. And I imagined there would be letters to be written…to suppliers… and partners…' Her voice trailed off uncertainly and died. She coloured and looked away ashamed. What was she thinking, being so presumptuous! Surely Mr Thornton does not need her advice! She was extremely vexed with herself.

Mr Thornton's shoulders relaxed and his expression, so stern and forbidding a moment ago, broke into a broad white smile. A devilish twinkle appeared in his eye:

'I see now what Bell was about calling you Miltonian and manufacturing. Why, Miss Hale, I should be careful indeed, if I am ever to keep my position as master.' But then, realizing she may mistake his meaning for a rebuke, and eager to avoid any mortification or discomfort, he reached for her gently:

'You are quite right, love. I shall return to Milton tomorrow, after I meet with Lennox and go over all the details of your proposal.' (the little mischievous smile appeared again.) 'To make certain your interests are properly looked after. One can never completely know with these manufacturing people and their northern ways.'

'I am most obliged for your kind offices, Mr Thornton,' recovered Margaret quickly. 'Mr Lennox has brought us some rather strange news lately, of experiments of most bizarre nature: warm meals, schooling for children and what not. Outrageous! One may not but think the Masters' Union ought to have dealt with such foreign inflictions!'

Mr Thornton threw his head back and his deep manly laugh rippled through the room. How long has it been since he last enjoyed himself so immensely! She is something, this lovely, vivacious, sparkling creature, there cannot be two opinions on the matter. He looked intently at her smiling eyes.

'Margaret, will you not call me by my Christian name? I should like you very much to call me John.'

'To be sure I shall like it very much as well.' She replied assuredly. 'It is just that when we talk of … business,' (she liked the sound of the word, the taste it left was strangely gratifying, maybe she can, after all, get used to such talk), 'it is only natural to think of you as Mr. Thornton, reputed manufacturer and magistrate.'

'Why! You sound alarmingly like my mother, Margaret.' His white teeth gleamed again. 'But you will not drive me off with clever speech. Could you not call me John?'

'You already are, and always will be, my dear, beloved John.'

Hearing his name, rolling softly from her curved mouth, these precious feelings reflected in her luminous eyes, acted upon him as the elixir of youth. He felt the years rolling back; the energy of youth reclaiming, permeating every cell in his body; the worries, so insurmountable only an hour ago, shrinking to mere trifles. Yes, he was looking forward to the future again, sharing it, and all its triumphs and exultations, with Margaret Hale. His Margaret Hale. His Margaret! Her name alone brought sweetness and pleasure so intense, so sublime, that his heart ached. He wanted to share his life with this woman and nothing, no memory nor fear, would stand on his way. He took her small hands, paused a little, his body stiffening almost imperceptibly, and looking eagerly at her lovely face, his words came out slowly and with tender determination:

'Miss Hale, Margaret, would you do me the greatest honour and consent to be my wife?'

If there was any hint of apprehension or fear, it did not show. Perhaps his eyes were a little too earnest, his countenance graver and his manner more formal than the occasion required. He was certain of his success, and yet!, he felt like a little boy waiting for the sternest verdict. She looked at this just and noble man, the man who loved her, loves her, despite her faults and errors and who made her feel a woman; the man whom she loved, more fervently and deeply than she ever imagined herself capable of, and with whom she hoped to grow old.

'Yes', came her soft reply, 'I shall like this very much.'

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Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think.