\"i am sorry i asked you to go to mr. thornton\"s. i am disappointed inhim.\"

there was a slight noise behind her. both she and nicholas turnedround at the same moment, and there stood mr. thornton, with a lookof displeased surprise upon his face. obeying her swift impulse,margaret passed out before him, saying not a word, only bowing low tohide the sudden paleness that she felt had e over her face. he bentequally low in return, and then closed the door after her. as she hurriedto mrs. boucher\"s, she heard the clang, and it seemed to fill up themeasure of her mortification. he too was annoyed to find her there. hehad tenderness in his heart--\"a soft place,\" as nicholas higgins called it;but he had some pride in concealing it; he kept it very sacred and safe,and was jealous of every circumstance that tried to gain admission. butif he dreaded exposure of his tenderness, he was equally desirous thatall men should recognise his justice; and he felt that he had been unjust,in giving so scornful a hearing to any one who had waited, with humblepatience, for five hours, to speak to him. that the man had spokensaucily to him when he had the opportunity, was nothing to mr.

thornton. he rather liked him for it; and he was conscious of his ownirritability of temper at the time, which probably made them both quits.

it was the five hours of waiting that struck mr. thornton. he had notfive hours to spare himself; but one hour--two hours, of his hardpenetrating intellectual, as well as bodily labour, did he give up to goingabout collecting evidence as to the truth of higgins\"s story, the nature ofhis character, the tenor of his life. he tried not to be, but was convincedthat all that higgins had said. was true. and then the conviction went in,as if by some spell, and touched the latent tenderness of his heart; thepatience of the man, the simple generosity of the motive (for he hadlearnt about the quarrel between boucher and higgins), made himforget entirely the mere reasonings of justice, and overleap them by adiviner instinct. he came to tell higgins he would give him work; andhe was more annoyed to find margaret there than by hearing her lastwords, for then he understood that she was the woman who had urgedhiggins to e to him; and he dreaded the admission of any thoughtof her, as a motive to what he was doing solely because it was right.

\"so that was the lady you spoke of as a woman?\" said he indignantly tohiggins. \"you might hāve told me who she was.

\"and then, maybe, yo\"d ha\" spoken of her more civil than yo\" did; yo\"dgetten a mother who might ha\" kept yo\"r tongue in check when yo\" weretalking o\" women being at the root o\" all the plagues.\"

\"of course you told that to miss hale?\"

\"in coorse i did. leastways, i reckon i did. i telled her she weren\"t tomeddle again in aught that concerned yo\".\"

\"whose children are those--yours?\" mr. thornton had a pretty goodnotion whose they were, from what he had heard; but he felt awkwardin turning the conversation round from this unpromising beginning.

\"they\"re not mine, and they are mine.\"

\"they are the children you spoke of to me this morning?\"

\"when yo\" said,\" replied higgins, turning round, with ill-smotheredfierceness, \"that my story might be true or might not, bur it were a veryunlikely one. measter, i\"ve not forgetten.\"

mr. thornton was silent for a moment; then he said: \"no more hāve i. iremember what i said. i spoke to you about those children in a way ihad no business to do. i did not believe you. i could not hāve taken careof another man\"s children myself, if he had acted towards me as i hearboucher did towards you. but i know now that you spoke truth. i begyour pardon.\"

higgins did not turn round, or immediately respond to this. but when hedid speak, it was in a softened tone, although the words were gruffenough.

\"yo\"ve no business to go prying into what happened between boucherand me. he\"s dead, and i\"m sorry. that\"s enough.\"

\"so it is. will you take work with me? that\"s what i came to ask.\"