woman?" said he indignantly to Higgins.
"You might have told me who she was."

"And then maybe yo'd ha' spoken of her
more civil than yo did; yo'd getten a mother
who might ha' kept yo'r tongue in check
when yo were talking o' women being at the
root of 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 to meddle
again in aught that concerned yo."

" Whose children are those — yours? " Mr.
Thornton had a pretty good notion whose
they were from what he had heard; but he
felt awkward in 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-smothered fierceness, "that my
story might be true or might not, but it were
a very unlikely one. Measter, I've not
forgetten."

Mr. Thornton was silent for a moment;
then he said: " No more have I. I remember
what I said. I spoke to you about
those children as I had no business to do. I
did not believe you. I could not have taken
care of another man's children myself, if he
had acted towards me as I hear Boucher did
towards yon. But I know now that you
spoke truth. I beg your pardon."

Higgins did not turn round, or immediately
respond to this. But when he did speak, it
was in a softened tone, although the words
were gruff enough.

"Yo've no business to go prying into what
happened between Boucher and 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."

Higgins's obstinacy wavered, recovered
strength, and stood firm. He would not speak.
Mr. Thornton would not ask again. Higgins's
eye fell on the children.

"Yo've called me impudent, and a liar, and
a mischief-maker, and yo might ha' said wi'
some truth, as I were now and then given to
drink. An' I ha' called you a tyrant an' an
oud bull-dog, and a hard cruel master; that's
where it stands. But forth' childer. Measter
do yo think we can e'er get on together ? "

"Well! " said Mr. Thornton, half-laughing,
"it was not my proposal that we should go
together. But there's one comfort, on your
own showing. We neither of us can think
much worse of the other than we do
now."

"That's true," said Higgins, reflectively.
"I've been thinking ever sin' I saw you,
what a marcy it were yo did na take me on,
for that I ne'er saw a man whom I could less
abide. But that's maybe been a hasty judgment ;
and work's work to such as me. So,
measter, I'll come; and what's more I thank
yo: and that's a deal fra' me," said he, more
frankly, suddenly turning round, and facing
Mr. Thornton fully for the first time.

"And this is a deal from me," said Mr.
Thornton, giving Higgins's hand a good grip.
"Now mind you come sharp to your time,"
continued he, resuming the master. " I'll
have no laggards at my mill. What fines we
have we keep pretty sharply. And the first
time I catch you making mischief, off you go.
So now you know where you are."

"Yo spoke of my wisdom this morning. I
reckon I may bring it wi' me; or would yo
rather have me 'bout my brains?"

"'Bout your brains, if you use them for
meddling with my business; with your
brains, if you can keep them to your own."

"I shall need a deal o' brains to settle
where my business ends and yo'rs begins."

"Your business has not begun yet, and
mine stands still for me. So good afternoon."

Just before Mr. Thornton came up to Mrs.
Boucher's door, Margaret came out of it.
She did not see him; and he followed her
for several yards, admiring her light and easy
walk, and her tall and graceful figure. But
suddenly this simple emotion of pleasure
was tainted, poisoned by jealousy. He wished
to overtake her, and speak to her, to see
how she would receive him, now she must
know that he was aware of some other
attachment. He wished too, but of this wish
he was rather ashamed, that she should know
that he had justified her wisdom in sending
Higgins to him to ask for work, and had
repented him of his morning's decision. He
came up to her. She started.

"Allow me to say, Miss Hale, that you
were rather premature in expressing your
disappointment. I have taken Higgins on."

"I am glad of it," said she, coldly.

"He tells me he repeated to you what I
said this morning about — " Mr. Thornton
hesitated. Margaret took it up:

"About women not meddling. You had
a perfect right to express your opinion,
which was a very correct one, I have no
doubt. But " she went on a little more
eagerly, "Higgins did not quite tell you the
exact truth." The word " truth," reminded
her of her own untruth, and she stopped short,
feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Mr.
Thornton at first was puzzled to account for
her silence; and then he remembered the lie
she had told, and all that was foregone.
"The exact truth! " said he. " Very few
people do speak the exact truth. I have
given up hoping for it. Miss Hale, have you
no explanation to give me? You must
perceive what I cannot but think."

Margaret was silent. She was wondering
if an explanation of any kind would be
consistent with her loyalty to Frederick.

"Nay," said he, "I will ask no farther. I
may be putting temptation in your way. At
present, believe me, your secret is safe with
me. But you run great risks, allow me to
say, in being so indiscreet. I am now only