‘The way of humility.  Ah,’ thought Margaret, ’that is what I have missed!  But courage, little heart.  We will turn back, and by God’s help we may find the lost path.’

So she rose up, and determined at once to set to on some work which should take her out of herself.  To begin with, she called in Martha, as she passed the drawing-room door in going up-stairs, and tried to find out what was below the grave, respectful, servant-like manner, which crusted over her individual character with an obedience that was almost mechanical.  She found it difficult to induce Martha to speak of any of her personal interests; but at last she touched the right chord, in naming Mrs. Thornton.  Martha’s whole face brightened, and, on a little encouragement, out came a long story, of how her father had been in early life connected with Mrs. Thornton’s husband—­nay, had even been in a position to show him some kindness; what, Martha hardly knew, for it had happened when she was quite a little child; and circumstances had intervened to separate the two families until Martha was nearly grown up, when, her father having sunk lower and lower from his original occupation as clerk in a warehouse, and her mother being dead, she and her sister, to use Martha’s own expression, would have been ‘lost’ but for Mrs. Thornton; who sought them out, and thought for them, and cared for them.

’I had had the fever, and was but delicate; and Mrs. Thornton, and Mr. Thornton too, they never rested till they had nursed me up in their own house, and sent me to the sea and all.  The doctors said the fever was catching, but they cared none for that—­only Miss Fanny, and she went a-visiting these folk that she is going to marry into.  So, though she was afraid at the time, it has all ended well.’

‘Miss Fanny going to be married!’ exclaimed Margaret.

’Yes; and to a rich gentleman, too, only he’s a deal older than she is.  His name is Watson; and his milk are somewhere out beyond Hayleigh; it’s a very good marriage, for all he’s got such gray hair.’

At this piece of information, Margaret was silent long enough for Martha to recover her propriety, and, with it, her habitual shortness of answer.  She swept up the hearth, asked at what time she should prepare tea, and quitted the room with the same wooden face with which she had entered it.  Margaret had to pull herself up from indulging a bad trick, which she had lately fallen into, of trying to imagine how every event that she heard of in relation to Mr. Thornton would affect him:  whether he would like it or dislike it.

The next day she had the little Boucher children for their lessons, and took a long walk, and ended by a visit to Mary Higgins.  Somewhat to Margaret’s surprise, she found Nicholas already come home from his work; the lengthening light had deceived her as to the lateness of the evening.  He too seemed, by his manners, to have entered a little more on the way of humility; he was quieter, and less self-asserting.