But such a one would have been deeply mistaken.  The very daringness with which mother and son spoke out unpalatable truths, the one to the other, showed a reliance on the firm centre of each other’s souls, which the uneasy tenderness of Mrs. Thornton’s manner to her daughter, the shame with which she thought to hide the poverty of her child in all the grand qualities which she herself possessed unconsciously, and which she set so high a value upon in others—­this shame, I say, betrayed the want of a secure resting-place for her affection.  She never called her son by any name but John; ‘love,’ and ‘dear,’ and such like terms, were reserved for Fanny.  But her heart gave thanks for him day and night; and she walked proudly among women for his sake.

’Fanny dear I shall have horses to the carriage to-day, to go and call on these Hales.  Should not you go and see nurse?  It’s in the same direction, and she’s always so glad to see you.  You could go on there while I am at Mrs. Hale’s.’

‘Oh! mamma, it’s such a long way, and I am so tired.’

‘With what?’ asked Mrs. Thornton, her brow slightly contracting.

’I don’t know—­the weather, I think.  It is so relaxing.  Couldn’t you bring nurse here, mamma?  The carriage could fetch her, and she could spend the rest of the day here, which I know she would like.’

Mrs. Thornton did not speak; but she laid her work on the table, and seemed to think.

‘It will be a long way for her to walk back at night!’ she remarked, at last.

’Oh, but I will send her home in a cab.  I never thought of her walking.’  At this point, Mr. Thornton came in, just before going to the mill.

’Mother!  I need hardly say, that if there is any little thing that could serve Mrs. Hale as an invalid, you will offer it, I’m sure.’

’If I can find it out, I will.  But I have never been ill myself, so I am not much up to invalids’ fancies.’

’Well! here is Fanny then, who is seldom without an ailment.  She will be able to suggest something, perhaps—­won’t you, Fan?’

‘I have not always an ailment,’ said Fanny, pettishly; ’and I am not going with mamma.  I have a headache to-day, and I shan’t go out.’

Mr. Thornton looked annoyed.  His mother’s eyes were bent on her work, at which she was now stitching away busily.

‘Fanny!  I wish you to go,’ said he, authoritatively.  ’It will do you good, instead of harm.  You will oblige me by going, without my saying anything more about it.’

He went abruptly out of the room after saying this.

If he had staid a minute longer, Fanny would have cried at his tone of command, even when he used the words, ’You will oblige me.’  As it was, she grumbled.

’John always speaks as if I fancied I was ill, and I am sure I never do fancy any such thing.  Who are these Hales that he makes such a fuss about?’

’Fanny, don’t speak so of your brother.  He has good reasons of some kind or other, or he would not wish us to go.  Make haste and put your things on.’