Chapter 4
He was outraged. He hated her, and he hated himself for showing her that emotion. He really must not possess the necessary qualifications to be a gentleman, if he couldn't think clearly in the presence of one woman.
After that night at the train station he had tried to analyse his own emotions.
The first time he had truly noticed her was the party at his house. She was so different than Milton's women, and she had stung him harshly with her critical words. They were true words – after long consideration he had to admit that. Then there was her bravery and the open declaration of her feelings during the riot. There were more harsh words and something in her eyes which he recognized as contempt when she refused his offer of marriage, while he was deeply convinced she should greet him with open arms. Then there was coldness during their meetings and her attempts to avoid him. As it happened, this was convenient for him because he needed the space to collect his thoughts.
They met again in London, and this time she hadn't attempted to escape from him. On the contrary, she had faced him and even argued with him again. He had wanted to prolong their talk, but it wasn't meant to be. While she apparently didn't want to offend him, her companions did. They confirmed his opinion about southern men. It was a different world, one which John didn't ever want to belong to.
Then he had returned to Milton. He heard that Mrs. Hale was dying. When he saw Miss Hale in the embrace of a young man at the station he was furious. How dared she jeopardise her own and her family's reputation? How dared she hug some youth? Was that her ideal of man – a pretty face, a coward mindlessly compromising her? John had no clue why he even cared.
Soon after Mrs. Hale's funeral the constable came to him with his doubts about the honesty of Miss Hale. John was aware that she had nothing to do with the death of Leonards. But he also knew that she had lied. Maybe that brainless young man had done something bad, but certainly not she. John knew he wouldn't allow anyone to hurt her, and at last he could pay the debt he owed her since the day of the riot. So he saved her from an investigation. But days passed, and she didn't even try to explain her behaviour to him. All of Milton gossiped, and she must have been aware of that. She kept avoiding him, and he obstinately longed for any gesture toward him. He kept waiting, and she didn't turn up. So John became more and more frustrated. He was angry as much at his own blindness and helplessness, as he was at her.
He was in a bad mood (he was usually in bad mood those days) when Nicholas Higgins knocked on his office door. After their talk, when Higgins implied that Miss Hale had sent him to inquire about work in Marlborough Mills, John's temper reached its peak. She must have known that he still would do anything for her, even compromising himself by hiring a leader of the strikers. And yet she apparently didn't intend to give him even the smallest explanation, and stubbornly didn't want to confide in him. He was hurt, but it convinced him about what he had assumed – she was innocent, but too proud to justify herself. His inner struggle lasted all day, but in the end he had to do what was right.
John hired Higgins, but that was enough. He had to show her he wasn't her slave and that he was still master of himself. Therefore, when she brought up the topic of Higgins he blurted out harshly, "I hope that you know that any foolish passion from my part is entirely over." He didn't even try to delude himself that what he said was true, but in her eyes he saw that she believed him.
Then with no hope and a strange pain in his chest, he had to stand against the many gathering troubles in his business. He felt like his usual energy had left him entirely; it cost him too much effort to focus on urgent matters every day in Marlborough Mills.
John didn't give himself any opportunity to see Margaret, finally abandoning his lessons with Mr. Hale. But he missed her all the same. His heart had jumped when Fanny told him she had met her. Once he caught a glimpse of her during Fanny's wedding.
Then he heard the news of Mr. Hale's death.
His pretended peace disappeared once again. When he asked Higgins, "What about Margaret?" he discovered that she would soon be gone forever. He finally realized that all his previous frustrations, anger, and many different feelings came from loving Margaret Hale. He had fallen in love with that strange, young, southern girl. She had made so many troubles for him, and then she had taken away his peace and heart. All the while she, of course, didn't want him, and didn't even like him. He felt completely depressed and hopeless.
A few days later, John returned to his house and found Miss Hale there; for him, time stopped for a while. She wore a black dress which contrasted with her pale face. Her eyes were dark-circled, and very sad. In her white hands she held a book. He came closer, towering over her, staring at the book she was giving to him. He extended his hand to take the book, covering her hands with his own. They stood very close and he leaned forward, taking no notice of Fanny, his own mother, or Margaret's aunt. "Forgive me, Margaret," he whispered unconsciously. Then he dared to look at her face. She was looking intently at their hands on the book, but she didn't pull hers away.
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