I just want to acknowledge that in the latter part of this chapter I borrow text directly from Gaskell where I saw no need to rewrite a part of the story that we are all so familiar with. I have of course italicised it to make it distinct from my own work.

'Margaret tells me that you have employed Nicholas Higgins. I must say that I was somewhat surprised and heartened to hear it John.' Mr Hale was clearly at his leisure this evening. It was curious how the presence of Mr. Thornton had power over Mr. Hale to make him unlock the secret thoughts which he kept shut up even from Margaret. She noted how lively he was in the younger man's presence.

John nodded and glanced across at Margaret. She met his eyes momentarily but just as quickly looked away. She did not want him to see how eager she was to hear how he would respond to her father. But John remained silent.

Mr Hale continued. 'Ephesians tells us let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. ' Looking with admiration at his pupil he added, 'Yes it was very Christian of you, John.'

John shook his head. 'I'm afraid I do not warrant your praise for I had quite different motives for employing Higgins.' Again John looked at Margaret, a small smile playing at his lips. Margaret blushed. 'I must confess that it was not Christian generosity that drove my actions. Rather it was good business sense.'

'How so?' asked Mr Hale with interest.

'The mill sorely needs skilled labor since the strike. We have many orders still waiting to be filled. And in fact, it was Miss Hale that suggested I consider Higgins.'

'Really?' Mr Hale looked at his beautiful daughter with affection.

'Although,' John's tone was playful, 'I will not let you take all of the credit Miss Hale.' 'Your words merely provoked my enquiries. It was Higgins' reputation as an excellent tradesman that convinced me of the virtue of taking him on.'

Margaret felt emboldened by his saucy words and responded in kind. 'Indeed I have heard he is uncommonly skilled and hard working. Pray tell us Mr Thornton whether he has proven his worth in the short time he has been at Marlborough Mill? Is he not all that your were led to believe?'

Margaret watched as John regarded her. Fearful that her attempt at wit appeared supercilious, she rallied and humbly added, 'It's just..I mean I hope,… I trust that he has been industrious and shown you gratitude.'

Raising his eyebrows John mused, 'I think he is as he always has been Miss Hale. Your Higgins is certainly not bashful. He has no scruple in declaring the deficiencies in our methods and as a consequence has not gained favour with the Foremen.' John paused and Margaret became uneasy. 'But there is no finer weaver, nor anyone more attentive to precision. He is the first of the workers to arrive at the mill and the last to leave. For that I would gladly accept any of his other deficiencies.'

Margaret let out the breath she realised she had been holding.

'In fact Miss Hale, I must urge you to find me more rapscallion union leaders like Higgins. I am sure with ten such men I could happily relieve fifty others from their stations.'

Margaret laughed, glad that they seemed to have overcome their differences. She even contented herself that she and Mr Thornton appeared to be on more congenial terms than ever before. Perhaps her father's passage from Ephesians was an auspicious message to them. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another…

Mr Hale sat across from Margaret grinning. 'Thank you for joining us this evening John. Your company has been quite diverting, don't you think Margaret?

Margaret reached across and squeezed her father's hand. 'Yes it has Papa. We must ask Mr Thornton to come more often.' When Margaret turned to look at him, John's eyes were fixed on her. His expression profound. She prayed he understood that she was earnest in extending her friendship.

Their gaze was interrupted by the intrusion of Dixon who seemed flustered. 'I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner sir, may I speak with you a moment?'

'Is it important Dixon?' asked Mr Hale with a small amount of agitation.

'It concerns the mistress sir.' Margaret understood that the relationship between Dixon and her father had never been easy; Dixon clearly felt that Mrs Hale married beneath her rank; but the recent events had place further strain on their cordiality towards each other.

'Will you excuse me John? Margaret will you fetch us a fresh pot of tea? I shan't be long.'

'Of course Papa.'

Margaret stood to make her way to the kitchen. As she did she was surprised to find Mr Thornton on his feet and following her through the hall.

After a time of just standing watching her prepare the china, John finally spoke. 'Margaret, I don't mean to sound impudent, and I understand if you do not wish to discuss it if it pains you, but how long….'

Margaret thrilled to hear him speak her first name. She did not correct him. 'It is difficult to say. Mamma is sleeping much more than she was. I fear the end is quite near.' She turned then towards the fire afraid she may begin to weep in front of him. Though she knew her mother's death was inevitable, a part of her still hoped for a miracle.

As she reached for the kettle, John came nearer. 'Here, let me,' he said gently.

As Margaret relinquished the kettle to him their hands touched briefly. Once again his proximity and the scent of him affected her, and she was close to overcome by her physical reaction to him. It was like nothing she had experienced before. Breathlessly she whispered thank you and tried to still her trembling hands by holding onto a chair.

John poured the boiling water into the pot and replaced the kettle on the fire. 'Allow me to carry the tray for you.'

A grateful smile was all she could muster. She was entranced by this version of John. The openness in his expression. The kindness in his tone.

Back in the dining room, John placed the tray on the table. Standing back he eyed the door before clearing his throat. 'Margaret, while your father is out of the room, I was wanting to ask you something.'

The seriousness of John's tenor made Margaret's heart flutter.

'I was wondering, and please understand that you are under no obligation, well I was hoping that you might consider walking with me? On Sunday. After church.'

Margaret did her best to maintain her composure and contain the unexpected delight that bubbled below the surface of her calm demeanor.

Mr Hale re-entered the dining room before she could respond. He was pale and his features were marked with grave concern. 'John, I'm afraid I will need to cut our evening short.' He turned then to take Margaret's hand. 'Dixon has asked me to fetch Dr Donaldson. Mrs Hale seems to be having some difficulty breathing.'

Margaret held tight to her father and looked to John for his counsel.

'Sir, let me take a short detour and secure Dr Donaldson for you. I need to be leaving now anyway.' John looked reassuringly at Margaret. 'Return to your wife sir. That is where you are needed now.'

'Thank you John. I confess I am loath to go. Margaret, would you see John out please?'

'Of course Papa.'

Margaret followed John to the door. John hurriedly put on his gloves.

'Thank you for coming, John. ' Margaret stammered his name. 'I feel as if we have enacted this scene before.' She half smiled. In devotion to her mother she was eager for him to be off on his errand, but in faithfulness to her own feelings she was equally reluctant to see him leave. 'Perhaps I shall see you Sunday?'

John tipped his hat with a bashful look before dashing down the steps. Margaret could still hear his footsteps running as she closed the door.

It was not yet dawn when Margaret was woken by a banging noise. As she roused herself to consciousness she realized it was knocking on the front door.

Quickly donning a housecoat and wrap, she made her way downstairs through the dark house. There she met Dixon preparing to give way to her anger at the unsuspecting person behind the door for disturbing the peace at this uncivilised hour.

Margaret could not see who the visitor was as the door was opened. She remained standing behind Dixon.

Is this Mr. Hale's?' said he, in a clear, full, delicate voice.

Margaret trembled all over; at first she did not answer. In a moment she sighed out,

'Frederick!' and stretched out both her hands to catch his, and draw him in.

'Oh, Margaret!' said he, holding her off by her shoulders, after they had kissed each other, as if even in that darkness he could see her face, and read in its expression a quicker answer to his question than words could give,—

'My mother! is she alive?'

'Yes, she is alive, dear, dear brother! She—as ill as she can be she is; but alive! She is alive!'

'Thank God!' said he. 'Papa is utterly prostrate with this great grief.' 'You expect me, don't you?' 'No, we have had no letter.' 'Then I have come before it. But my mother knows I am coming?' 'Oh! we all knew you would come. But wait a little! Step in here.

…. And so it was that the weight, this sorrowful time, was lightened to Margaret. …. For a few hours, the mother rallied on seeing her son. She sate with his hand in hers; she would not part with it even while she slept; and Margaret had to feed him like a baby, rather than that he should disturb her mother by removing a finger. Mrs. Hale wakened while they were thus engaged; she slowly moved her head round on the pillow, and smiled at her children, as she understood what they were doing, and why it was done. 'I am very selfish,' said she; 'but it will not be for long.

Margaret later explained to Frederick that this state of tranquillity could not endure for many days, nor perhaps for many hours. How Dr Donaldson had been called last night and assured them there was no more to be done other than to be grateful for the gift of time left and to pray for the freedom of her spirit as it returned home.

'I don't believe it,' he exclaimed. 'She is very ill; she may be dangerously ill, and in immediate danger, too; but I can't imagine that she could be as she is, if she were on the point of death. Margaret! she should have some other advice—some London doctor. Have you never thought of that?'

'Yes,' said Margaret, 'more than once. But I don't believe it would do any good. And, you know, we have not the money to bring any great London surgeon down, and I am sure Dr. Donaldson is only second in skill to the very best,—if, indeed, he is to them.'

Before the night of that day, Dr. Donaldson's opinion was proved to be too well founded. Convulsions came on; and when they ceased, Mrs. Hale was unconscious. Her husband might lie by her shaking the bed with his sobs; her son's strong arms might lift her tenderly up into a comfortable position; her daughter's hands might bathe her face; but she knew them not. She would never recognise them again, till they met in Heaven.

Before the morning came all was over.