servant whom Mrs. Thornton had found for them; had asked Edith for a little Greek air, about which she had spoken to Miss Thornton.  Mrs. Thornton was fairly discomfited.  Her sharp Damascus blade seemed out of place, and useless among rose-leaves.  She was silent, because she was trying to task herself up to her duty At last, she stung herself into its performance by a suspicion which, in spite of all probability, she allowed to cross her mind, that all this sweetness was put on with a view of propitiating Mr. Thornton; that, somehow, the other attachment had fallen through, and that it suited Miss Hale’s purpose to recall her rejected lover.  Poor Margaret! there was perhaps so much truth in the suspicion as this:  that Mrs. Thornton was the mother of one whose regard she valued, and feared to have lost; and this thought unconsciously added to her natural desire of pleasing one who was showing her kindness by her visit.  Mrs. Thornton stood up to go, but yet she seemed to have something more to say.  She cleared her throat and began: 

’Miss Hale, I have a duty to perform.  I promised your poor mother that, as far as my poor judgment went, I would not allow you to act in any way wrongly, or (she softened her speech down a little here) inadvertently, without remonstrating; at least, without offering advice, whether you took it or not.’

Margaret stood before her, blushing like any culprit, with her eyes dilating as she gazed at Mrs. Thornton.  She thought she had come to speak to her about the falsehood she had told—­that Mr. Thornton had employed her to explain the danger she had exposed herself to, of being confuted in full court! and although her heart sank to think he had not rather chosen to come himself, and upbraid her, and receive her penitence, and restore her again to his good opinion, yet she was too much humbled not to bear any blame on this subject patiently and meekly.

Mrs. Thornton went on: 

’At first, when I heard from one of my servants, that you had been seen walking about with a gentleman, so far from home as the Outwood station, at such a time of the evening, I could hardly believe it.  But my son, I am sorry to say, confirmed her story.  It was indiscreet, to say the least; many a young woman has lost her character before now——­’

Margaret’s eyes flashed fire.  This was a new idea—­this was too insulting.  If Mrs. Thornton had spoken to her about the lie she had told, well and good—­she would have owned it, and humiliated herself But to interfere with her conduct—­to speak of her character! she—­Mrs. Thornton, a mere stranger—­it was too impertinent!  She would not answer her—­not one word.  Mrs. Thornton saw the battle-spirit in Margaret’s eyes, and it called. up her combativeness also.

’For your mother’s sake, I have thought it right to warn you against such improprieties; they must degrade you in the long run in the estimation of the world, even if in fact they do not lead you to positive harm.’