three out of these fifteen shillings regularly.
This made the beginning; this taught me
self-denial. Now that I am able to afford
my mother such comforts as her age rather
than her own wish requires, I thank her
silently on each occasion for the early training
she gave me. Now when I feel that in
my own case it is no good luck, nor merit,
nor talent, — but simply the habits of life
which taught me to despise indulgences not
thoroughly earned, — indeed, never to think
twice about them,—I believe that this suffering
which Miss Hale says is impressed on the
countenances of the people of Milton, is but
the natural punishment of dishonestly-enjoyed
pleasure at some former period of their lives.
I do not look on self-indulgent sensual people
as worthy of my hatred; I simply look upon
them with contempt for their poorness of
character."

"But you have had the rudiments of a
good education," remarked Mr. Hale. " The
quick zest with which you are now reading
Homer, shows me that }'ou do not come to it
as an unknown book; you have read it
before, and are only recalling your old
knowledge."

"That is true, — I had blundered along it
at school; I dare say, I was even considered
a pretty fair classic in those days, though my
Latin and Greek have slipt away from me
since. But I ask you what preparation they
were for such a life as I had to lead? None
at all. Utterly none at all. On the point of
education, any man who can read and write
starts fair with me in the amount of really
useful knowledge that I had at that time."

"Well! I don't agree with you. But
there I am perhaps somewhat of a pedant.
Did not the recollection of the heroic
simplicity of the Homeric life nerve you up ? "

"Not one bit! " exclaimed Mr. Thornton,
laughing. " I was too busy to think about
any dead people, with the living pressing
alongside of me, neck to neck, in the struggle
for bread. Now that I have my mother safe
in the quiet peace which becomes her age,
and duly rewards her former exertions, I can
turn to all that old narration and thoroughly
enjoy it."

"I dare say my remark came from the
professional feeling of there being nothing like
leather," replied Mr. Hale.

When Mr. Thornton rose up to go away,
after shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. Hale,
he made an advance to Margaret to wish
her good-bye in a similar manner. It was
the frank familiar custom of the place; but
Margaret was not prepared for it. She
simply bowed her farewell; although the
instant she saw the hand, half put out,
quickly drawn back, she was sorry she had
not been aware of the intention. Mr. Thornton,
however, knew nothing of her sorrow,
and, drawing himself up to his full height,
walked off, muttering as he left the house—

"A more proud, disagreeable girl I never
saw. Even her great beauty is blotted out of
one's memory by her scornful ways."

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH.

"MARGARET!" said Mr. Hale, as he
returned from showing his guest downstairs;
"I could not help watching your face with
some anxiety when Mr. Thornton made his
confession of having been a shop-boy. I
knew it all along from Mr. Bell; so I was
aware of what was coming; but I half
expected to see you get up and leave the
room."

"Oh, papa! you don't mean that you
thought me so silly ? I really liked that
account of himself better than anything else
he said. Everything else revolted me from
its hardness; but he spoke about himself
so simply — with so little of the pretence that
makes the vulgarity of shop-people, and
with such tender respect for his mother,
that I was less likely to leave the room
then than when he was boasting about
Milton, as if there was not such another
place in the world; or quietly professing to
despise people for careless, wasteful
improvidence, without ever seeming to think it
his duty to try to make them different,—
to give them anything of the training which
his mother gave him, and to which he
evidently owes his position, whatever that may
be. No! his statement of having been a
shop-boy was the thing I liked best of all."

"I am surprised at you, Margaret," said
her mother. " You who were always accusing
people of being shoppy at Helstone! I
don't think, Mr. Hale, you have done quite
right in introducing such a person to us
without telling us what he had been. I
really was very much afraid of showing him
how much shocked I was at some parts of
what he said. His father 'dying in miserable
circumstances.' Why it might have
been in the workhouse."

"I am not sure if it was not worse than
being in the workhouse," replied her
husband. " I heard a good deal of his previous
life from Mr. Bell before he came here ;
and as he has told you a part, I will fill
up what he left out. His father speculated
wildly, failed, and then killed himself,
because he could not bear the disgrace. All
his previous friends shrunk from the
disclosures that had to be made of his dishonest
gambling — wild, hopeless struggles, made
with other people's money, to regain his
own moderate portion of wealth. No one
came forwards to help the mother and this
boy. There was another child, I believe, a
girl; too young to earn money, but of course
she had to be kept. At least, no friend came
forwards immediately, and Mrs. Thornton is
not one, I fancy, to wait till tardy kindness
comes to find her out. So they left Milton.
I knew he had gone into a shop, and that his
earnings, with some fragment of property