It took up both his hands to carry it; and he had to pass through the busiest part of the town for feminine shopping. Many a young lady of his acquaintance turned to look after him, and thought it strange to see him occupied just like a porter or an errand-boy.
He was thinking, 'I will not be daunted from doing as I choose by the thought of her. I like to take this fruit to the poor mother, and it is simply right that I should. She shall never scorn me out of doing what I please. A pretty joke, indeed, if, for fear of a haughty girl, I failed in doing a kindness to a man I liked. I do it for Mr. Hale; I do it in defiance of her.'
Yet for all his bravado, John felt nervous and somewhat foolish for returning to Crampton. Perhaps it was unwise to go back to the home of the person who had dashed all your hopes? But the closer he got to the tiny house, the less wise he became, recalling images of her brilliant eyes, her delicate features...
He was surprised by the physical pain that coursed through his body at the thought of her. He felt bereft as he recollected her arms about his neck, her feminine form against his chest. There had been a transcendent moment of understanding between them he would never forget. Her soulful eyes beseeching him to save himself during the insanity of the riot. Her feelings, raw and unbridled in her expression. He was still in awe of the intensity of that moment.
His mother would be displeased that he should test himself in this way. She had determined to hate the girl who had not accepted her son's affection. But John could not hate Margaret. He could no more hate her than hate himself for loving her. It was a normal and natural thing.
In truth he was grateful for the colour she had bought into his grey days in Milton. To quote Byron "the great art of life is to feel that we exist, even in pain.' John had never fully understood this before. But he now realised that the respectable life he had carved for himself as a magistrate and successful businessman lacked fulfillment. Without love – even a one-sided love - he had been living a shallow existence. And although bountiful in maternal and sisterly affection, it was a life of loneliness, want of that companionship that a man sought in a woman.
With one haughty glance from the spirited girl from the south he had witnessed love's sublime power and he would never be the same. His father's death had taught him that pain and love were inseparable. Where there is one, there is inevitably the other. But he would never wish to trade the vitality that he felt in his love for Margaret for the deadness of life before her.
As John reached Crampton it was just on twilight. He climbed the stairs two at a time, a part of him unable to contain his hopeless excitement at the thought of seeing her again. He had no notion of how he would conduct himself in her company. He had not thought it through. He could almost hear his mother chastising him, blaming his reckless, out of character behaviour on his irrational affliction for the girl. It was true that John was rarely one to act rashly. His every move was executed with a good deal of forethought. Every risk carefully calculated. Yet here he was on an impulsive errand, led entirely by his heart rather than his head.
As he was about to knock he wondered whether she would be home. Would she avoid his company and leave him to be received by her father? Or would she come and sit with them, resuming the rhythm of their previous encounters where she would tolerate him with her lofty disdain?
With these thoughts driving his heart to an erratic thudding, he was stunned as the door quickly opened and a distressed Miss Hale, evidently in a rush, was preparing to leave the house. She had a shawl about her shoulders, ready to face the night air.
John put the basket he was carrying down on the step. 'Miss Hale, I, ah…'
He was caught off guard by the confusion in her face, the tears pricking at her eyes. How frightened and small she appeared in her present state.
'Mr Thornton, my father is not home at present. I'm sorry but I must leave without delay. Perhaps you could call again tomorrow?'
Margaret was about to push past John, when he reached out to take hold of her arm. The mere site of her exhilarated him. Releasing her arm again John said in a gentle tone, 'Of course I would not wish to delay you Miss Hale, but please..I can see that you are distressed..it will be dark soon..'
Margaret looked up at him, the tears now falling from her eyes. 'Sir, I must fetch Dr Donaldson for my mother..' her voice faltered. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to recover her composure.
'Stay here Miss Hale. I will fetch Dr Donaldson. Go. Be with your mother. I will return presently.' John felt a strong desire to be useful in her time of need. He just hoped she would not let her pride prevent her from accepting his assistance.
Without giving her the opportunity to object, John dashed away. He looked back momentarily and saw the exquisite young beauty still standing on the step, staring after him.
On he ran, not caring about the stares of townspeople. Not caring about what they might think, or who might stop his mother in the street to remark on her son's strange behaviour. He ran in the direction of the doctor, his only thought of Margaret and how she must be suffering. Knowing her dear mother would soon pass. Having to watch her decline with only prayers and faith for comfort.
As he arrived at the neat property where the doctor resided, John was relieved to find light glowing in the window. It would seem that luck was on his side this evening. He should hate to have returned to Crampton empty handed.
John knocked on the door painted peacock blue. After waiting only a few seconds, a tiny bespectacled lady with white hair answered the door.
'Good evening. My name is John Thornton. Would the doctor be in?'
The housekeeper's face lit up with her excitement. 'Oh, I know who you are sir! Please come in and sit down. I will fetch the doctor.'
John shook his head. 'I'm afraid there is no time for that now madam. I must beg the doctor accompany me to relieve the suffering of a lady at Crampton.'
Just then John heard some footsteps walking up the hall. 'Mr Thornton, what brings you here this evening?'
The housekeeper bowed her head before leaving the gentlemen to talk. 'Mrs Hale has taken a turn for the worst causing her daughter great distress. Can I trouble you to come with me now Doctor to see to her?'
The doctor nodded and disappeared momentarily to fetch his bag and coat.
The two men walked briskly through the darkening laneways. To passers by they were an odd pairing. One man very tall and in the prime of his youth. The other short, stout and weathered with age.
'How is it that you came to be at my door tonight Mr Thornton?' asked the doctor.
Mr Thornton chose his words carefully. 'I went to Crampton this evening to call upon Mr Hale. As I arrived, Miss Hale, Mr Hale's daughter, was just leaving the house on her way to fetch you. I offered to come in her place.'
'I see,' said Dr Donaldson. 'It is a sad case I'm afraid. There is very little I can do for her after tonight unless their circumstances change.'
John gave Dr Donaldson a side-glance, sensing there was something not being said. 'I do not mean to be impertinent sir, but what do you mean "after tonight"? What circumstances do you refer to?'
Dr Donaldson looked uncomfortable as he spoke. 'Mr Hale is not a man of good fortune. I am sure that I am not telling you anything you do not already know. Mr Hale leads me to understand that you have made many undertakings to help his family settle into Milton?'
'Yes, I suppose so. Go on..'
'The treatment I have been giving to Mrs Hale is quite expensive. It is relatively new and not widely available. The Apothecary refuses to supply any further opiates until his bill is paid in full. I have in my bag the last dose of the current supply.'
'So you are saying that Mr Hale is unable to pay for any further treatment for his wife?' John knew that the family had very little money. But he had not realised that their position was so reduced as to not have funds for essentials such as this.
'That is exactly what I am saying. Mr Hale is broken up about it of course, and I feel his pain. My time I am free to give away, but my pockets are not deep enough to pay…'
John could tell Dr Donaldson wished there was more he could do. 'No of course not Doctor. Nor should you be expected to cover the costs. You are doing as much as anyone could ask at such a time – I am sure.' Without a moment's hesitation John said, 'I would like to help – anything they need, please make sure that it is made available to Mrs Hale. Send the bills directly to me at Marlborough Mill.'
If John surprised Dr Donaldson with his offer, he did not show it. 'Do you think Mr Hale will accept your charity? The Hales are proud people.'
John smiled to himself. He was sure that Mr Hale, for the benefit of his wife, could be easily persuaded. He was not so sure that his daughter would swallow this bitter pill so readily. 'I would be obliged if you would not reveal that I am paying for the treatment – if it can be helped.'
The doctor seemed to understand. 'I will do my best to keep your secret Mr Thornton.'
'You will tell me, if there is anything I can do, I'm sure, replied Mr. Thornton. 'I rely upon you.'
Dr Donaldson chortled. 'Oh! never fear! I'll not spare your purse,—I know it's deep enough. I wish you'd give me carte-blanche for all my patients, and all their wants.'