Margaret Liked This Smile; It Was The

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.

Margaret Had Always Dreaded Lest Her Courage Should Fail Her In Any Emergency, And She Should Be Proved To Be, What She Dreaded Lest She Was--a Coward. But Now, In This Real Great Time Of Reasonable Fear And Nearness Of Terror, She Forgot Herself, And Felt Only An Intense Sympathy--intense To Painfulness--in The Interests Of The Moment.

"mr. Thornton," Said Margaret, Shaking All Over With Her Passion, "go Down This Instant, If You Are Not A Coward. Go Down And Face Them Like A Man. Save These Poor Strangers, Whom You Have Decoyed Here. Speak To Your Workmen As If They Were Human Beings. Speak To Them Kindly. Don't Let The Soldiers Come In And Cut Down Poor-creatures Who Are Driven Mad. I See One There Who Is. If You Have Any Courage Or Noble Quality In You, Go Out And Speak To Them, Man To Man."

Neither Loss Of Father, Nor Loss Of Mother, Dear As She Was To Mr Thornton, Could Have Poisoned The Remembrance Of The Weeks, The Days, The Hours, When A Walk Of Two Miles, Every Step Of Which Was Pleasant, As It Brought Him Nearer And Nearer To Her, Took Him To Her Sweet Presence - Every Step Of Which Was Rich, As Each Recurring Moment That Bore Him Away From Her Made Him Recal Some Fresh Grace In Her Demeanour, Or Pleasant Pungency In Her Character.

. . . It Seemed To Me That Where Others Had Prayed Before To Their God, In Their Joy Or In Their Agony, Was Of Itself A Sacred Place.