companion said—­the head a little bent forwards, so as to make a long sweeping line from the summit, where the light caught on the glossy raven hair, to the smooth ivory tip of the shoulder; the round white arms, and taper hands, laid lightly across each other, but perfectly motionless in their pretty attitude.  Mr. Thornton sighed as he took in all this with one of his sudden comprehensive glances.  And then he turned his back to the young ladies, and threw himself, with an effort, but with all his heart and soul, into a conversation with Mr. Hale.

More people came—­more and more.  Fanny left Margaret’s side, and helped her mother to receive her guests.  Mr. Thornton felt that in this influx no one was speaking to Margaret, and was restless under this apparent neglect.  But he never went near her himself; he did not look at her.  Only, he knew what she was doing—­or not doing—­better than he knew the movements of any one else in the room.  Margaret was so unconscious of herself, and so much amused by watching other people, that she never thought whether she was left unnoticed or not.  Somebody took her down to dinner; she did not catch the name; nor did he seem much inclined to talk to her.  There was a very animated conversation going on among the gentlemen; the ladies, for the most part, were silent, employing themselves in taking notes of the dinner and criticising each other’s dresses.  Margaret caught the clue to the general conversation, grew interested and listened attentively.  Mr. Horsfall, the stranger, whose visit to the town was the original germ of the party, was asking questions relative to the trade and manufactures of the place; and the rest of the gentlemen—­all Milton men,—­were giving him answers and explanations.  Some dispute arose, which was warmly contested; it was referred to Mr. Thornton, who had hardly spoken before; but who now gave an opinion, the grounds of which were so clearly stated that even the opponents yielded.  Margaret’s attention was thus called to her host; his whole manner as master of the house, and entertainer of his friends, was so straightforward, yet simple and modest, as to be thoroughly dignified.  Margaret thought she had never seen him to so much advantage.  When he had come to their house, there had been always something, either of over-eagerness or of that kind of vexed annoyance which seemed ready to pre-suppose that he was unjustly judged, and yet felt too proud to try and make himself better understood.  But now, among his fellows, there was no uncertainty as to his position.  He was regarded by them as a man of great force of character; of power in many ways.  There was no need to struggle for their respect.  He had it, and he knew it; and the security of this gave a fine grand quietness to his voice and ways, which Margaret had missed before.