‘I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,

Through constant watching wise,

To meet the glad with joyful¹ smiles,

And to wipe the weeping eyes;

And a heart at leisure from itself

To soothe² and sympathise.’

— ANON.

Margaret made a good listener to all her mother’s little plans for adding some small comforts to the lot of the poorer parishioners. She could not help listening, though each new project was a stab to her heart. By the time the frost had set in, they should be far away from Helstone. Old Simon’s rheumatism³ might be bad and his eyesight worse; there would be no one to go and read to him, and comfort him with little porringers of broth⁴ and good red flannel⁵: or if there was, it would be a stranger, and the old man would watch in vain for her. Mary Domville’s little crippled boy would crawl in vain to the door and look for her coming through the forest. These poor friends would never understand why she had forsaken⁶ them; and there were many others besides. ‘Papa has always spent the income he derived⁷ from his living in the parish. I am, perhaps, encroaching upon the next dues, but the winter is likely to be severe, and our poor old people must be helped.’

‘Oh, mamma, let us do all we can,’ said Margaret eagerly, not seeing the prudential side of the question, only grasping at the idea that they were rendering⁸ such help for the last time; ‘we may not be here long.’

‘Do you feel ill, my darling?’ asked Mrs. Hale, anxiously, misunderstanding Margaret’s hint of the uncertainty¹⁰ of their stay at Helstone. ‘You look pale and tired. It is this soft, damp, unhealthy air.’

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