Similarity Of Opinion Is Not Always—i Think

But The Cloud Never Comes In That Quarter Of The Horizon From Which We Watch For It.

Mr Thornton Would Rather Have Heard That She Was Suffering The Natural Sorrow. In The First Place, There Was Selfishness Enough In Him To Have Taken Pleasure In The Idea That His Great Love Might Come In To Comfort And Console Her; Much The Same Kind Of Strange Passionate Pleasure Which Comes Stinging Through A Mother's Heart, When Her Drooping Infant Nestles Close To Her, And Is Dependent Upon Her For Everything.

Margaret The Churchwoman, Her Father The Dissenter, Higgins The Infidel, Knelt Down Together. It Did Them No Harm.

Oh Dear! A Drunken Infidel Weaver! Said Mr. Hale To Himself.

Mr. Thornton Felt That In This Influx No One Was Speaking To Margaret, And Was Restless Under This Apparent Neglect. But He Never Went Near Her Himself; He Did Not Look At Her. Only, He Knew What She Was Doing — Or Not Doing — Better Than Anyone Else In The Room. Margaret Was So Unconscious Of Herself, And So Much Amused By Watching Other People, That She Never Thought Whether She Was Left Unnoticed Or Not.