Margaret of the North Read Online Free

of
fragrant yellow roses, unseen in the bleakness of Milton where it would have
struggled to survive.  The sight of the roses made him pause and he picked a
newly opened blossom.  The fragrance it gave off was not entirely new to him
and was reminiscent of some pleasing citrus.  As he stared at it, he imagined
seeing Margaret, as he had done so many times before: Margaret—nurtured in the
same unspoiled, lush and placid setting—intrepid yet vulnerable, indomitable
yet sensitive.  He frowned in annoyance at himself: How could he have allowed
hurt pride and jealousy to preclude that Margaret had a defensible reason to be
with a young man at the train station late at night?  It perturbed him that his
resentment could forever deprive him of happiness with the one woman he ever
loved.  But he was not one who gave up easily.  He only hoped he was not too
late.
    John resolved to visit Margaret
in London on the pretext of discussing the fate of Marlborough Mills.  It was
true enough that he needed to talk to her about the mill but his real purpose
was to ascertain if his suspicions were correct.  This time, he would approach
her with more care, listen more attentively, show her in many little ways how
much he loved her and that he regretted the arrogant manner in which he proposed
to her the first time.  He knew she had not married and, he hoped, she had not
formed an engagement with Henry Lennox who, it had been plain to see, was in
love with her.  This thought made him uneasy and impatient to go as soon as he
could to London.  But first, he needed to go home to reassure his mother and
tell her he was ready to face the challenge of starting all over again.
    On the train halfway back to
Milton, what had merely been hope turned to utter happiness, what John had
wished for became reality.  Margaret's love was already his.  He marveled at
the audacity of her quick decision to turn around and return to Milton with
him.  He knew that such an act could only have been prompted by deeply felt
sentiments and that any other woman, less true to her feelings and more
concerned about malicious gossip ruining her reputation, would not have dared
to undertake it.  Once Margaret knew what she wanted or what was right, she
acted upon it.  She had done the same when she stood between him and a rioting crowd.
    **************
    John recollected how Margaret
raised her arms protectively around his shoulders in front of that rioting
crowd, and thought, "She must have cared for me even then!"
    His eyes earnest and shining, he
said.  "Margaret, my love, you must know that I never stopped loving you
regardless of what I might have said to the contrary, not even after that night
at the train station when I saw you with that dashing young man with his
refined bearing and handsome face.  I thought: Here's someone from her world,
just the man she would love.  I was devastated with jealousy."
    She stared at John,
flabbergasted.  "Jealous of Frederick?"
    She thought all along that she
had lost his esteem mainly from his having caught her at a lie when she denied
being out, alone and surreptitiously, with a man who was a stranger—an act
that, in itself, was considered improper.  Mrs. Thornton, unaware the stranger
was her brother, had told her so in no uncertain terms and Margaret had been
offended at her insinuation of impropriety.  It never occurred to her to
attribute jealousy to John, particularly after her rejection.
    Before she could say anything
more, he asked, "Is that your brother's name, Frederick?"
    Her eyes widened in surprise. 
"You knew about Frederick!  But how and for how long?  Did Mr. Bell tell
you?"
    "No, but he tried.  It was
Nicholas Higgins I must thank, just recently, really.  When he told me, I felt
relieved of this great burden of losing you, losing the mill.  And I dared to
hope again."
    Margaret touched his cheeks
tenderly, her eyes brimming with both renewed wonder at the way events had
unfolded and