Edith says she finds the printed calicoes in Corfu better and cheaper than in London.'

'Does she?' said her father. 'I think that must be one of Edith's exaggerations. Are you sure of it, Margaret?'

'I am sure she says so, papa.'

'Then I am sure of the fact,' said Mr. Bell. 'Margaret, I go so far in my idea of your truthfulness, that it shall cover your cousin's character. I don't believe a cousin of yours could exaggerate.'

'Is Miss Hale so remarkable for truth?' said Mr. Thornton, bitterly.

She did not get up and leave the room, as she had done in former days, when his abruptness or his temper had annoyed her. She sat quite still, after the first momentary glance of grieved surprise, that made her eyes look like some child's who has met with an unexpected rebuff; they slowly dilated into mournful, reproachful sadness; and then they fell..

An awkward hush came over the guests at the dinner table, taken aback as they were by the master's remark, unable to make it out. Only Margaret understood the basis for his slight.

Mrs Thornton observed her son and then broke the silence. 'Miss Hale, I believe you have earnt yourself quite a reputation of late for your charitable deeds. I met Mrs Phillips in town who described you as the champion of all destitute women and children of Milton.'

Margaret felt her colour deepen. 'Mrs Phillips was perhaps too theatric in her description. The idea for the infant's school may have been born with me, but it has been realised only by the association of a number of accomplished women, working together for a common cause. They, each of them, are deserving of being distinguished for their efforts.'

'I am sure that Mrs Phillips has not been too generous in her praise of you,' said Mr Bell affectionately. 'No doubt you are the greatest asset to the scheme. I for one would donate handsomely just for the pleasure of one of your beguiling smiles my dear.'

'Shame on you Bell,' joked his friend. 'You undermine Margaret's hard work and fortitude by saying such things.' Mr Hale squeezed his daughter's hand with pride. 'Margaret take no notice of him.'

'But in all seriousness, you are to be commended for all that you have done. There are few people that could manage to do in a year what you have done in a few short weeks. I do believe your talents know no bounds.' Mr Bell raised his drinking glass to her.

'Mr Bell,' laughed Margaret, 'it is too much, please stop.' Then seeing Mrs Thornton's severe face she composed herself. 'We would welcome more volunteers should Mrs or Miss Thornton be inclined to give of their time?'

Mrs Thornton appeared unmoved. Fanny screwed up her nose in disgust. 'Do you not worry about disease Miss Hale?'

'Disease?'

'From the children.'

Margaret stifled her amusement and went on to outline some of the measures they had taken to reduce the spread of childhood illnesses and explained that as an adult she was mostly immune to such things.

'I believe your little school has been so popular as to be almost too full to take any more children?' said Mrs Thornton.

'Yes, that is true. Unfortunately we will need to find another premises if we are to accommodate more. However, as you will no doubt comprehend Mrs Thornton, that takes money – and a good deal of it.'

'I'm sure Thornton here can contribute some funds,' interjected Mr Bell. 'No doubt some of his workers have children attending Margaret's school.'

Margaret felt, rather than saw, that Mr. Thornton was chagrined so continued talking. 'We have plans for further fundraising. There are many businesses in Milton that we have still to call upon. '

After dinner at Marlborough Street, Mr Bell returned to Crampton with Margaret and her father for a late supper.

'I never saw a fellow so spoiled by success. He can't bear a word; a jest of any kind. Everything seems to touch on the soreness of his high dignity. Formerly, he was as simple and noble as the open day; you could not offend him, because he had no vanity.'

'He is not vain now,' said Margaret, turning round from the table, and speaking with quiet distinctness. 'To-night he has not been like himself. Something must have annoyed him.'

Mr. Bell gave her one of his sharp glances from above his spectacles. She stood it quite calmly; but, after she had left the room, he suddenly asked,—

'Hale! did it ever strike you that Thornton and your daughter have what the French call a tendresse for each other?'

'Never!' said Mr. Hale, first startled and then flurried by the new idea. 'No, I am sure you are wrong. I am almost certain you are mistaken….

'Well! I'm a bachelor, and have steered clear of love affairs all my life; so perhaps my opinion is not worth having. Or else I should say there were very pretty symptoms about her!'

'Then I am sure you are wrong,' said Mr. Hale. 'He may care for her, though she really has been almost rude to him at times. But she! —why, Margaret would never think of him, I'm sure! Such a thing has never entered her head.'

'Entering her heart would do. But I merely threw out a suggestion of what might be. I dare say I was wrong. And whether I was wrong or right, I'm very sleepy; so, having disturbed your night's rest (as I can see) with my untimely fancies, I'll betake myself with an easy mind to my own.'

With the departure of their guests, John sat in his armchair in the library reflecting on the evening. How evil he was to-night; possessed by ill-humour.

He loosened the knot at his neck. She still affected him. Time and disappointment had not cured him of his attraction as he had hoped. He had watched her arrive from an upstairs window – a goddess in all of her bountiful and breathtaking beauty - and he had felt the power of it. The hurt. The loss. The regret.

He had been jealous and angry when he wrote to her. He wanted her trust and was desperate to be admitted to that hallowed sphere where she would love him unconditionally and without restraint as she did her family.

In his temper, he had committed his feelings to paper before he could think better of it. He had wanted to hurt her. But in doing so had only injured himself.

She greeted him cordially tonight, but did not meet his eyes. She could not care for him, he thought, or else the passionate fervour of his wish would have forced her to raise those eyes, if but for an instant, to read the late repentance in his.

As he observed her in stolen glances throughout the evening he could detect no general air of suffering in her own cheerful disposition. It would seem his passionate condemnation of her character had produced no ill effects. Quite the contrary. From all appearances she had lately flourished.

And then, as if to punish her for her for her felicity, he had lashed out. The moment he had done so, he could have bitten his tongue out. What was he? And why should he stab her with her shame in this way?

John closed his eyes, cringing at his own behaviour. Hearing the rustle of petticoats, he opened his eyes again as Mrs Thornton breezed into the library. She sat in the chair across from her son. He knew what was coming.

'You know I have never been an enthusiast for Miss Hale, nor a proponent of her virtues and charms, but really John? I would have expected better from you.' Mrs Thornton shook her head. 'What has happened to bring about such a dramatic change of heart towards Miss Hale?'

John remained silent so she continued. 'You never go to Crampton any more, you take your lessons here, and you avoid all conversations relating to the Hales - and in particular Miss Hale. What has happened between you two that you should choose to insult her in front of everyone this evening?'

John looked straight ahead at his collection of Jonathan Swifts. 'It is complicated Mother.'

She sat up straight as if offended. 'Do you think me too simple?'

John half smiled and looked over at her. She would not desist until he told her everything. Exhaling loudly, he began his story. 'The night before Mrs Hale died, after I dined there…'

'Yes I recall. That was the night you did not come home until nearly dawn.'

John nodded. 'On my way home that night I was approached by a police inspector. Watson, you remember him don't you?'

John then proceeded to explain what had happened that night and how when he approached Margaret after Mrs Hale's funeral she had denied all knowledge of Lieutenant Hale.

'I knew she was lying. Even if I had not seen the man myself, I could tell she was avoiding the truth.'

Mrs Thornton considered his story for a moment. 'You took a great risk to yourself and to Fanny and me by covering up for that man John.'

He nodded.

'And I daresay that you felt that you were entitled to the truth from Miss Hale.'

John looked at his mother. 'But?'

Mrs Thornton looked sympathetically at him. 'But in her defense, if I was Miss Hale, I would not have told you the truth either.'

John looked away brooding. 'You think me unreasonable to expect her trust?'

'Think of her situation John. If this Lieutenant Hale is indeed a close relative, how could you expect her to give him up to a magistrate? She is still grieving her mother. She probably could not bear to lose another loved one.'

'Yes but where has this man been when they needed him. When they were homeless, and without work. Or when Mrs Hale became sick and Margaret …' John stopped short of finishing his sentence. 'I will tell you where he was – protecting his own interests, that's where.'

Mrs Thornton frowned. 'I understand that when it comes to the Hales, you might think of yourself as their friend - or perhaps more.' Mrs Thornton rolled her eyes. 'But to the Hales you are…well I imagine Miss Hale was just unwilling to take the chance.'

Mrs Thornton stood and walked over to John's chair to run her hand through his hair, comforting him as she did when he was a boy. 'I know if it was you in danger, I would risk eternal damnation rather than give you up.'

John rubbed his forehead in agitation.

'Miss Hale has many characteristics not to my liking John. But she is not a liar. If indeed she has not taken you into her confidence then I believe she has had her reasons.' She paused then before adding, 'I find it interesting that you have not interviewed Mr Hale about this Lieutenant? Yet he must be a party to the same deceit as his daughter?'

Mrs Thornton lent down to kiss her son.

'But perhaps it is good that you continue to keep your distance. If this man is indeed a criminal and intimately connected with the Hales, then it may be prudent for you to limit your association with them. Perhaps it is best to leave things as they are.'

Unable to hear more John stood up and walked over to the mantelpiece. 'Good night, Mother,' he said dismissively.

'Good night John.'