'John my boy, what a welcome sight it is to have you at our door. Come in, come in.' Mr Hale appeared overjoyed at John's arrival at Crampton.

John entered the small house into the dark passageway. 'I have brought a basket of fruit for Mrs Hale, if you would be so good as to pass on my best wishes.'

'Why don't you come in and give it to her yourself.' Mr Hale ushered John into the tidy sitting room where Mrs Hale was resting on the settee covered in a colourful crocheted blanket.

John walked over to the settee and knelt beside the frail lady. She looked thinner and paler than even he remembered her, her skin almost translucent. Her eyes were dull, virtually without colour except for the red vessels that were pronounced. Her bony fingers shook as she reached up to take the basket. John, noticing how weak Mrs Hale had become, held the basket for her to admire her gift before he placed it on the sideboard.

'Mr Thornton,' said Mrs Hale in a hoarse voice, 'you are so very kind to go out of your way for me.' Bringing her fine lace handkerchief to her face she broke into a hacking cough. John worried that her frail bones would snap in protest. Regaining her poise Mrs Hale continued, 'I am finding it difficult to eat at the moment, but I am sure I shall enjoy your fine fruit.'

John smiled at Mrs Hale. There was resignation in her face. Like she had accepted her fate and now awaited death. Her eyes held an inner solace that both reassured and haunted him.

'I will bring you more if it pleases you?' John sat down across from her.

She managed a small smile before closing her eyes, as if the effort of discourse was too much for her.

Concerned that he was imposing John looked to Mr Hale and said softly, 'I'm sorry, if I have come at an inconvenient time..?'

Mr Hale shook his head. 'No, John, please stay. Maria is easily tired at present. We have suggested that she stay in bed but she prefers to be about the house, to be with us while she can bear it.' Mr Hale looked over at his wife who was now sleeping, her shallow breaths barely audible. 'Dr Donaldson has been a blessing. We must thank your mother for her recommendation. He has given her the very best care and the very latest treatments.'

'I am glad to hear it sir.'

Dixon entered with a fresh pot of tea and tutted at the sight of the mistress asleep on the settee. Refreshing the master's cup she asked, 'When is Miss Margaret expected back sir?'

John had wondered himself at the whereabouts of his tutor's daughter. With an appearance of disinterest, he listened intently for Mr Hale's response.

'She has gone to town to visit with her friend Bessy Higgins. She should be home presently.' Dixon stopped to tuck the blanket about Mrs Hale's sleeping form before shuffling from the room.

Higgins? Wasn't that the name of one of the leaders of the union? A sudden feeling of resentment welled inside John but he did his best to curb it. If he was to accept Margaret into his life, he had to allow for her sympathies – misplaced or otherwise. But to be associated with Higgins? The man whose actions had been the means of injury to his business? Injury that Marlborough Mill may not yet recover from? This would truly be a test of his character.

'The Higgins girl has consumption. Margaret gives her great comfort. I am never more proud of her than when she shows such noble Christian kindness to those less fortunate.'

John nodded. 'Indeed your daughter is a remarkable young woman.'

John excused himself presently, agreeing to return on Tuesday evening for his lesson. After shaking Mr Hale's hand he made off in the direction of the Mill. A few minutes into the short walk to Marlborough Street a young woman, arms about herself and clearly distracted by her own thoughts almost walked into him. It was Margaret. He stopped short, drawing her attention.

As she looked up, John could see her face was wet with tears.

'Miss Hale, what is the matter?'

Margaret turned her face away.

'Come Miss Hale. I wish you to count me as your friend. Please tell me what has you so distraught?'

Margaret wiped her tears, but more replaced them. Her breath started catching as her tears turned into sobs. 'I'm sorry Mr Thornton. My..friend Bessie…passed away this morning…' Saying the words out loud seemed to make Margaret's crying worse.

John offered her his arm. 'Please allow me to escort you the rest of your way home.'

Margaret shook her head. 'I can't go home in this state. I think I will walk a little way first. I do not want my mother to see me like this.' More tears fell.

'Well then, will you allow me to escort you on your walk?'

Margaret looked dubious. "Mr Thornton, I would not want…I mean I cannot ask you…' Eventually seeing that John would brook no refusal she reluctantly accepted his arm.

They walked in awkward silence for a way. John was uncertain of what to say to Margaret. In fact he was uncertain whether he should say anything at all. Instead he decided to let Margaret speak when she was ready.

As her breathing calmed, and her tears dried, he felt her loosen her grip on his arm. Under the shade of a maple tree she paused. 'Mr Thornton.'

'Yes Miss Hale?'

'I need to tell you - while I have the opportunity - how ashamed and mortified I feel as a result of my behaviour towards you yesterday. I cannot account for it, indeed I have no rational explanation for it. I can only humbly request your forgiveness and state how deserving I was of your severe words.'

John could almost feel her relief. He smiled to himself. 'Apology accepted Miss Hale.'

Margaret looked up at him, her soulful eyes reaching into his heart. 'My humiliation and regret were only amplified upon my return home when I discovered what you had done for my mother.'

John maintained a straight face but Margaret continued.

'My father does not know to whom we are indebted, and it would seem that you would prefer it that way. But I must thank you for your generosity, from the bottom of my heart sir. I will be forever grateful.'

John felt both embarrassment and gratification at her words. 'It pleases me that you are willing to accept my help.'

Margaret grimaced. 'Am I so very disagreeable Mr Thornton?'

John laughed. 'No, just exceedingly proud and independent. Though neither, if well regulated, are a defect in my view.' John picked a leaf from the tree and ran it through his fingers admiring its luster. 'I visited your Mother and Father today. Your mother seems..'

'At peace with her condition,' said Margaret abstractedly.

'Yes, I suppose that is what I mean. She is comfortable?'

'Thanks to you Mr Thornton. It would have been torture for us all to watch her be burdened by pain in her final days. But with the treatment that Dr Donaldson is administering there is hope that she will not suffer at all; actually her life may even be extended on account of her pain being eased.'

'I am glad.' Wanting to change the subject, John said, 'I'm sorry about your friend, Miss Higgins.'

'Yes, I am too. She was dear to me. One of my only friends here in Milton I am afraid.' Margaret was thoughtful for a moment. She looked up at John as she comprehended the full meaning of his words. 'Miss Higgins – you know who she was then?'

'You mean that she was the daughter of a union leader? Yes I know,' said John impassively.

Margaret's face flushed. 'I appreciate that my association with Nicholas Higgins may displease you. It must be difficult for you to see him in any light other than as an instigator of the strike.' Her eyes looked up to appeal to John. 'I just wish you could know him as I do. He is a good man and a loving father. He is a hard worker – he takes immense pride in his craft. In his different way he is simply pursuing the same object as you. Respectability; a better life for those he loves. If you were to ask the other workman you would hear... '

'Hear what Miss Hale?' John said, struggling to keep the bitterness from his tone. 'That he is an impudent mischief-maker? I already know this from first hand experience.' The words were out of John's mouth before he could think better of it.

Margaret hung her head to look at the ground, her tone becoming firmer. 'I am sorry Mr Thornton. I have intruded on your business dealings enough. I will not vex you further by offering opinions you are not ready to hear. I imagine the strike is still too fresh in your mind for you to be capable of being impartial.'

John could feel his indignation rising. Why must Margaret persist in subverting him with her presumptuous judgments? Why could she not look for the good in him as she did this Higgins fellow?

Not wanting to say anything he would later regret, John remained silent but pensive.

'But if I may be so bold as to ask you for a favour Mr Thornton?' John noted the haughtiness returning to her countenance. 'Should Nicholas Higgins come to Marlborough Mill in search of work, would you please speak with him? Even if you cannot bring yourself to employ him, I would entreat you to tolerate him with equanimity and patience. Could you do that for me?'

John eyed Margaret critically, uncertain of her motive. 'Why should I do that Miss Hale? Why should I not toss the schemer into the street for all the grief he has caused me?'

Margaret shook her head as if disappointed in John. With barely concealed passion she announced, 'For I have urged him to seek you out. I have led him to believe that you of all Masters have the sense to put aside your differences, see his worth as a superior hand, and do what is right and good.'

John was taken aback, unable to comprehend whether her words were praise or insult. On one hand she had credited him with good sense and foresight, on the other an unwillingness to disregard his personal feelings to do what was best for the mill.

John sighed. This was not how he had imagined his next meeting with Margaret. 'I do not wish to quarrel with you Miss Hale. On the contrary I had hoped that we might begin to reconcile our differences. But perhaps we are not ready – as you say the events of late may be too fresh in our minds. You have had upsetting news today and I certainly do not wish to be the cause of further distress. Perhaps I should escort you home now?'

'No thank you Mr Thornton. I am quite capable of making it back on my own. Good day,' she said stonily.

Exasperated, John tipped his hat, bowed and watched her walk away.