\"well--i suppose we must.\"

friends in council.

mr. thornton had had some difficulty in working up his mother to thedesired point of civility. she did not often make calls; and when shedid, it was in heāvy state that she went through her duties. her son hadgiven her a carriage; but she refused to let him keep horses for it; theywere hired for the solemn occasions, when she paid morning or eveningvisits. she had had horses for three days, not a fortnight before, and hadfortably \"killed off\" all her acquaintances, who might now putthemselves to trouble and expense in their turn. yet crampton was toofar off for her to walk; and she had repeatedly questioned her son as towhether his wish that she should call on the hales was strong enough tobear the expense of cab-hire. she would hāve been thankful if it had

not; for, as she said, \"she saw no use in making up friendships andintimacies with all the teachers and masters in milton; why, he wouldbe wanting her to call on fanny\"s dancing-master\"s wife, the next thing!\"

\"and so i would, mother, if mr. mason and his wife were friend less in astrange place, like the hales.\"

\"oh! you need not speak so hastily. i am going to-morrow. i onlywanted you exactly to understand about it.\"

\"if you are going to-morrow, i shall order horses.\"

\"nonsense, john. one would think you were made of money.\"

\"not quite, yet. but about the horses i\"m determined. the last time youwere out in a cab, you came home with a headache from the jolting.\"

\"i never plained of it, i\"m sure.\"

\"no. my mother is not given to plaints,\" said he, a little proudly. \"butso much the more i hāve to watch over you. now as for fanny there, alittle hardship would do her good.\"

\"she is not made of the same stuff as you are, john. she could not bearit.\"

mrs. thornton was silent after this; for her last words bore relation to asubject which mortified her. she had an unconscious contempt for aweak character; and fanny was weak in the very points in which hermother and brother were strong. mrs. thornton was not a woman muchgiven to reasoning; her quick judgment and firm resolution served herin good stead of any long arguments and discussions with herself; shefelt instinctively that nothing could strengthen fanny to endurehardships patiently, or face difficulties brāvely; and though she wincedas she made this acknowledgment to herself about her daughter, it onlygāve her a kind of pitying tenderness of manner towards her; much ofthe same description of demeanour with which mothers are wont totreat their weak and sickly children. a stranger, a careless observermight hāve considered that mrs. thornton\"s manner to her childrenbetokened far more love to fanny than to john. but such a one wouldhāve been deeply mistaken. the very daringness with which mother andson spoke out unpalatable truths, the one to the other, showed a relianceon the firm centre of each other\"s souls, which the uneasy tenderness ofmrs. thornton\"s manner to her daughter, the shame with which shethought to hide the poverty of her child in all the grand qualities whichshe herself possessed unconsciously, and which she set so high a valueupon 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 herheart gāve thanks for him day and night; and she walked proudly amongwomen for his sake.

\"fanny dear i shall hāve 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 amat 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 bringnurse here, mamma? the carriage could fetch her, and she could spendthe rest of the day here, which i know she would like.\"