The next afternoon, about twenty miles from Milton-Northern, they entered on the little branch railway that led to Heston.  Heston itself was one long straggling street, running parallel to the seashore.  It had a character of its own, as different from the little bathing-places in the south of England as they again from those of the continent.  To use a Scotch word, every thing looked more ‘purposelike.’  The country carts had more iron, and less wood and leather about the horse-gear; the people in the streets, although on pleasure bent, had yet a busy mind.  The colours looked grayer—­more enduring, not so gay and pretty.  There were no smock-frocks, even among the country folk; they retarded motion, and were apt to catch on machinery, and so the habit of wearing them had died out.  In such towns in the south of England, Margaret had seen the shopmen, when not employed in their business, lounging a little at their doors, enjoying the fresh air, and the look up and down the street.  Here, if they had any leisure from customers, they made themselves business in the shop—­even, Margaret fancied, to the unnecessary unrolling and rerolling of ribbons.  All these differences struck upon her mind, as she and her mother went out next morning to look for lodgings.

Their two nights at hotels had cost more than Mr. Hale had anticipated, and they were glad to take the first clean, cheerful for the first time for many days, did Margaret feel at rest.  There rooms they met with that were at liberty to receive them.  There, was a dreaminess in the rest, too, which made it still more perfect and luxurious to repose in.  The distant sea, lapping the sandy shore with measured sound; the nearer cries of the donkey-boys; the unusual scenes moving before her like pictures, which she cared not in her laziness to have fully explained before they passed away; the stroll down to the beach to breathe the sea-air, soft and warm on that sandy shore even to the end of November; the great long misty sea-line touching the tender-coloured sky; the white sail of a distant boat turning silver in some pale sunbeam:—­it seemed as if she could dream her life away in such luxury of pensiveness, in which she made her present all in all, from not daring to think of the past, or wishing to contemplate the future.

But the future must be met, however stern and iron it be.  One evening it was arranged that Margaret and her father should go the next day to Milton-Northern, and look out for a house.  Mr. Hale had received several letters from Mr. Bell, and one or two from Mr. Thornton, and he was anxious to ascertain at once a good many particulars respecting his position and chances of success there, which he could only do by an interview with the latter gentleman.  Margaret knew that they ought to be removing; but she had a repugnance to the idea of a manufacturing town, and believed that her mother was receiving benefit from Heston air, so she would willingly have deferred the expedition to Milton.