Margaret sate with her father in the room with the dead. He cried audibly but not violently. He sate by the bed and, from time to time, he uncovered the face, and stroked it gently, making a kind of soft inarticulate noise, like that of some mother-animal caressing her young. He was grateful for Margaret's presence. Frederick and John joined them occasionally, careful not to disturb him from his absorption in the dead. Margaret's heart ached within her thinking of her own loss as well as her father's.

With the help of his children and his best friend, the elder Mr. Hale made it through the next few days. However, it was John he was most grateful for. Not only was his new son in law a good comforter and listener, he handled all of the arrangements and was a loving support to his daughter. Their marriage was the one good thing that came out of their removal to Milton. Had it not been for this fact Mr. Hale's grief would likely have overtaken him and he would have succumbed to morbid regret over what could not be recalled.

John and Margaret's marriage brought him some measure of solace and hope for the future. His daughter was well and happily married. His good friend was now a permanent part of his family. He was also extremely glad that his son was alive and safe and had found a new home and someone to love in Spain. The thought of grandchildren in the not so distant future was a very real possibility.

Towards evening the day before the funeral, Dixon came toMargaret and said, "I was really afraid for master, that he'd have a stroke with grief. He's been all this day with poor missus; and when I've listened at the door, I've heard him talking to her, and talking to her, as if she was alive. When I went in he would be quite quiet, but he wasn't cryin'. He was telling her about you and Master Frederick and what your futures would be like. I stopped worrying when I heard the hopeful words he was sayin' to her and saw the happy look on his face."

The day of the funeral his strength started to wane. He was absorbed in one idea—that the last visible token of the presence of his wife was to be carried away from him, and hidden from his sight. He trembled pitifully as the undertaker's man was arranging his crape draperies around him. He looked wistfully at Margaret, Fred, and John and tottered towards the door. Mr. Bell and John helped him down the stairs and into the carriage.

It would not do for Fred to show too much familiarity with the family in public. Now that Margaret was John's wife, the public eye would be on the family once again this day. Frederick would arrive at the funeral separate from his family and not sit too close to them. He would be a pallbearer along with John, Watson, Higgins, Williams, and the Captain.

Margaret's Aunt Shaw had gone into paroxysms of shock when she heard the news, Maxwell reported. She had just been in Milton for Margaret's wedding last week and had seen her sister in relatively good health. At the news of Maria's death she fainted and then took to her own bed. Maxwell, reassured Margaret that her aunt was not near death herself merely unwell and unable to travel. Edith felt compelled to stay home with her mother so the Captain was sent to attend the funeral in their stead. The women would only have come to comfort Margaret anyway as it was not considered acceptable for women to attend funerals. Margaret, however, refused to adhere to this custom and accompanied her father and husband to the church.

Margaret sat by her father in the coach, almost supporting him in her arms; and repeating all the noble verses of holy comfort, or texts expressive of faithful resignation, that she could remember. Her voice never faltered; and she herself gained strength by doing this. She also gained strength by seeing John sitting across from her. Not only was he a comfort to her but his presence was a tremendous relief to her father. It was also on account of John that Fred was still here which brought yet more balm to her father's broken heart.

All throughout the ceremony, Mr. Hale saw nothing. He went on repeating to himself, mechanically as it were, all the funeral service as it was read by the officiating clergyman; he sighed twice or thrice when all was ended; and then, putting his hand on Margaret's arm, he mutely entreated to be led away, as if he were blind, and she his faithful guide.

Dixon attended as well. She sobbed aloud, covered her face with her handkerchief, and was absorbed in her own grief. She had been ladies maid to Mrs. Hale ever since she was the young Miss Beresford, belle of the county.

Margaret was moved by the size of the congregation. Although none were acquainted with her mother, she was grateful that the society of Milton felt compelled to attend even if it was solely on account of her new status as Mistress of Marlborough Mills. That people she didn't even know would take time out of their busy schedules to attend her mother's funeral meant something to her. These would be the first people she would call upon after her period of mourning was over.

At the conclusion of the funeral, the pallbearers carried her mother's coffin out of the church and into the cemetery on the hill. Tears could be seen on Frederick's face but Margaret hoped no one would take much notice. Her mother would be buried on the Thornton plot not far from graves of John's father and little sister.

Mr. Hale stood supported by his daughter and son in law as he accepted the condolences of the many attendees. As the last of them finished filing past she leaned over and whispered in Mr. Bell's ear. "If we had been in Helstone the church would have been filled with Mother's friends. Even though she knew no one here more people came than live in the whole of Helstone! I am grateful for the turnout. It is because of John, of course, but for all of these people to take time out of their day to come…"

"Yes, my dear," replied Mr. Bell, "For better or worse, this is just a taste of what your new status will bring you."

Maxwell bid them farewell as he would be catching the late train back to London. Mr. Bell returned to his hotel with promises to visit his old friend on the morrow. Margaret and John accompanied her father, brother, and Dixon back to Crampton. They stayed long enough to see the widower safely tucked into his bed and returned their own home.

A/N: Kind of a bridge chapter here. Hopefully my muse is setting us up for something a little more interesting.