’Why, that’s another thing.  This girl down-stairs wanted me to ask you, if you would like to see her.’

‘But she’s dead!’ said Margaret, turning a little pale.  ’I never saw a dead person.  No!  I would rather not.’

’I should never have asked you, if you hadn’t come in.  I told her you wouldn’t.’

‘I will go down and speak to her,’ said Margaret, afraid lest Dixon’s harshness of manner might wound the poor girl.  So, taking the cap in her hand, she went to the kitchen.  Mary’s face was all swollen with crying, and she burst out afresh when she saw Margaret.

‘Oh, ma’am, she loved yo’, she loved yo’, she did indeed!’ And for a long time, Margaret could not get her to say anything more than this.  At last, her sympathy, and Dixon’s scolding, forced out a few facts.  Nicholas Higgins had gone out in the morning, leaving Bessy as well as on the day before.  But in an hour she was taken worse; some neighbour ran to the room where Mary was working; they did not know where to find her father; Mary had only come in a few minutes before she died.

‘It were a day or two ago she axed to be buried in somewhat o’ yourn.  She were never tired o’ talking o’ yo’.  She used to say yo’ were the prettiest thing she’d ever clapped eyes on.  She loved yo’ dearly Her last words were, “Give her my affectionate respects; and keep father fro’ drink.”  Yo’ll come and see her, ma’am.  She would ha’ thought it a great compliment, I know.’

Margaret shrank a little from answering.

’Yes, perhaps I may.  Yes, I will.  I’ll come before tea.  But where’s your father, Mary?’

Mary shook her head, and stood up to be going.

‘Miss Hale,’ said Dixon, in a low voice, ‘where’s the use o’ your going to see the poor thing laid out?  I’d never say a word against it, if it could do the girl any good; and I wouldn’t mind a bit going myself, if that would satisfy her.  They’ve just a notion, these common folks, of its being a respect to the departed.  Here,’ said she, turning sharply round, ’I’ll come and see your sister.  Miss Hale is busy, and she can’t come, or else she would.’

The girl looked wistfully at Margaret.  Dixon’s coming might be a compliment, but it was not the same thing to the poor sister, who had had her little pangs of jealousy, during Bessy’s lifetime, at the intimacy between her and the young lady.

‘No, Dixon!’ said Margaret with decision.  ’I will go.  Mary, you shall see me this afternoon.’  And for fear of her own cowardice, she went away, in order to take from herself any chance of changing her determination.

CHAPTER XXVIII

COMFORT IN SORROW

’Through cross to crown!—­And though thy spirit’s life
Trials untold assail with giant strength,
Good cheer! good cheer!  Soon ends the bitter strife,
And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.’ 
KOSEGARTEN.