thousand little circumstances will have occurred to awaken his alarm, to deepen it—­so that he will be all the better prepared.—­Nay, my dear young lady—­nay, my dear—­I saw Mr. Thornton, and I honour your father for the sacrifice he has made, however mistaken I may believe him to be.—­Well, this once, if it will please you, my dear.  Only remember, when I come again, I come as a friend.  And you must learn to look upon me as such, because seeing each other—­getting to know each other at such times as these, is worth years of morning calls.’  Margaret could not speak for crying:  but she wrung his hand at parting.

‘That’s what I call a fine girl!’ thought Dr. Donaldson, when he was seated in his carriage, and had time to examine his ringed hand, which had slightly suffered from her pressure.  ’Who would have thought that little hand could have given such a squeeze?  But the bones were well put together, and that gives immense power.  What a queen she is!  With her head thrown back at first, to force me into speaking the truth; and then bent so eagerly forward to listen.  Poor thing!  I must see she does not overstrain herself.  Though it’s astonishing how much those thorough-bred creatures can do and suffer.  That girl’s game to the back-bone.  Another, who had gone that deadly colour, could never have come round without either fainting or hysterics.  But she wouldn’t do either—­not she!  And the very force of her will brought her round.  Such a girl as that would win my heart, if I were thirty years younger.  It’s too late now.  Ah! here we are at the Archers’.’  So out he jumped, with thought, wisdom, experience, sympathy, and ready to attend to the calls made upon them by this family, just as if there were none other in the world.

Meanwhile, Margaret had returned into her father’s study for a moment, to recover strength before going upstairs into her mother’s presence.

’Oh, my God, my God! but this is terrible.  How shall I bear it?  Such a deadly disease! no hope!  Oh, mamma, mamma, I wish I had never gone to aunt Shaw’s, and been all those precious years away from you!  Poor mamma! how much she must have borne!  Oh, I pray thee, my God, that her sufferings may not be too acute, too dreadful.  How shall I bear to see them?  How can I bear papa’s agony?  He must not be told yet; not all at once.  It would kill him.  But I won’t lose another moment of my own dear, precious mother.’

She ran upstairs.  Dixon was not in the room.  Mrs. Hale lay back in an easy chair, with a soft white shawl wrapped around her, and a becoming cap put on, in expectation of the doctor’s visit.  Her face had a little faint colour in it, and the very exhaustion after the examination gave it a peaceful look.  Margaret was surprised to see her look so calm.

‘Why, Margaret, how strange you look!  What is the matter?’ And then, as the idea stole into her mind of what was indeed the real state of the case, she added, as if a little displeased:  ’you have not been seeing Dr. Donaldson, and asking him any questions—­have you, child?’ Margaret did not reply—­only looked wistfully towards her.  Mrs. Hale became more displeased.  ’He would not, surely, break his word to me, and’—­