‘I see my way as birds their trackless way —

I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first,

I ask not: but unless God send his hail

Or blinding fire-balls, sleet¹, or stifling² snow,

In some time — his good time — I shall arrive;

He guides me and the bird. In His good time!’

BROWNING’S PARACELSUS.

So the winter was getting on, and the days were beginning to lengthen⁴, without bringing with them any of the brightness of hope which usually accompanies the rays of a February sun. Mrs. Thornton had of course entirely⁵ ceased to come to the house. Mr. Thornton came occasionally, but his visits were addressed to her father, and were confined to the study. Mr. Hale spoke⁶ of him as always the same; indeed, the very rarity of their intercourse⁷ seemed to make Mr. Hale set only the higher value on it. And from what Margaret could gather of what Mr. Thornton had said, there was nothing in the cessation of his visits which could arise from any umbrage⁸ or vexation. His business affairs had become complicated during the strike, and required closer attention than he had given to them last winter. Nay⁹, Margaret could even discover that he spoke from time to time of her, and always, as far as she could learn, in the same calm friendly way, never avoiding and never seeking any mention of her name.

She was not in spirits to raise her father’s tone of mind. The dreary¹⁰ peacefulness of the present time had been preceded by so long a period of anxiety and care — even intermixed with storms — that her mind had lost its

分享到：