‘The blessing of God be upon thee, my child!’

‘And may He restore you to His Church,’ responded she, out of the fulness of her heart.  The next moment she feared lest this answer to his blessing might be irreverent, wrong—­might hurt him as coming from his daughter, and she threw her arms round his neck.  He held her to him for a minute or two.  She heard him murmur to himself, ’The martyrs and confessors had even more pain to bear—­I will not shrink.’

They were startled by hearing Mrs. Hale inquiring for her daughter.  They started asunder in the full consciousness of all that was before them.  Mr. Hale hurriedly said—­’Go, Margaret, go.  I shall be out all to-morrow.  Before night you will have told your mother.’

‘Yes,’ she replied, and she returned to the drawing-room in a stunned and dizzy state.

CHAPTER V

DECISION

’I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself
To soothe and sympathise.’ 
Anon.

Margaret made a good listener to all her mother’s little plans for adding some small comforts to the lot of the poorer parishioners.  She could not help listening, though each new project was a stab to her heart.  By the time the frost had set in, they should be far away from Helstone.  Old Simon’s rheumatism might be bad and his eyesight worse; there would be no one to go and read to him, and comfort him with little porringers of broth and good red flannel:  or if there was, it would be a stranger, and the old man would watch in vain for her.  Mary Domville’s little crippled boy would crawl in vain to the door and look for her coming through the forest.  These poor friends would never understand why she had forsaken them; and there were many others besides.  ’Papa has always spent the income he derived from his living in the parish.  I am, perhaps, encroaching upon the next dues, but the winter is likely to be severe, and our poor old people must be helped.’

‘Oh, mamma, let us do all we can,’ said Margaret eagerly, not seeing the prudential side of the question, only grasping at the idea that they were rendering such help for the last time; ’we may not be here long.’

‘Do you feel ill, my darling?’ asked Mrs. Hale, anxiously, misunderstanding Margaret’s hint of the uncertainty of their stay at Helstone.  ’You look pale and tired.  It is this soft, damp, unhealthy air.’

’No—­no, mamma, it is not that:  it is delicious air.  It smells of the freshest, purest fragrance, after the smokiness of Harley Street.  But I am tired:  it surely must be near bedtime.’

’Not far off—­it is half-past nine.  You had better go to bed at dear.  Ask Dixon for some gruel.  I will come and see you as soon as you are in bed.  I am afraid you have taken cold; or the bad air from some of the stagnant ponds—­’