Margaret donned her veiled bonnet and turned to the large oval mirror standing in the corner of her little room. The image reflected was foreign, a mere figment of what she had seen a month ago. She touched her face to establish that the image mirrored her own actions and reassure herself that she was in fact flesh and blood. The dark crescents under her eyes told the world of her recent hardship if her mouth would not. She turned and took a seat on the edge of her bed as the act of dressing had weakened her far beyond her comprehension. The words of Mr. Bell rang within her. Margaret ran the events of the past few days through her mind until she could remember every syllable spoken by the dear man. Indeed, her father was to be laid to rest in Oxford and she had not the forethought to ask him to take her with him.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she felt a deep sorrow within her soul and wondered if it was possible for a person to simply run out of tears. She felt as if her family had been scattered to the ends of the earth. Her mother in Milton, Brother in Spain and now her father. What had she now? She was finally able to pinpoint the source of her deepest sorrow; Margaret Hale was loved by no one and belonged nowhere.

Margaret descended the staircase to her father's study, here she could still feel his presence. Lightly fingering the books on his shelves, she found those editions that he had most treasured. With an armful of her father's closest companions, she attempted to take comfort in his favorite chair. Margaret thought this the best way to drown out the loneliness, the deafening silence that surrounded her in this newfound prison of her mind.

Margaret was alarmed when she heard the clock strike noon. She was unaware as to the amount of time she had been sitting there, however looked down to see that not a cover to book had been opened nor a page turned. She stood and began to pace the floor, saddened at the idea of never saying goodbye to her father. Margaret had convinced her father to allow her to attend her mother's funeral, how could he expect any less of her at his own? She tried her hardest to think of alternatives, however, Margaret knew that her only hope was to plead her case to Mr. Thornton.

The closer she came to Milton, the stronger her sense of dependence became. Margaret was keenly aware that she would spend the rest of her life dependant on someone, how and who were yet to be determined. The thought of asking Mr. Thornton to escort her to Oxford was far less than ideal. She dreaded seeking help from a man who clearly thought so little of her, practically reviled her. This was a man that had done so much for her, for her family, and she was returning to add to the burden. She stood before the great green gate and summoned the courage to face Mr. Thornton, Margaret knew that she could never forgive herself if she did not at least make an effort.

Margaret was asked to wait in Mr. Thornton's office while he was located. She entered, and the door was swiftly closed behind her. Upon surveying the little office, she felt it to be a bit cold and somewhat uninviting. There were financial documents scattered upon the large desk, several bookcases lining the walls containing ledgers and other such business material. There was nothing personal in the office, nothing to make this quiet place a haven on a difficult day. There was a window on the left wall which Margaret found her way toward. She found herself entranced by the never ceasing motion down below. She watched for minutes on end trying to find some stillness among the room. This became the likeness of a game, her eyes scaled the entirety of the room from one end and slowly to the other only to return and begin again. She suddenly spotted a machine stop and exhaled an audible "Ah." An overseer quickly come to assist in the quick repair, the machine was up and running in less than a minute. Margaret was both thoroughly impressed with both the efficiency of the mill employees and herself for winning at her little diversion. It was the first time that she had truly allowed her mind to escape tragedy in a good long time. With a slight smile, Margaret began to continue her pursuit when she noticed a reflection in the window that she had previously been too occupied to see.

She slowly turned her head and was taken aback to see Mr. Thornton standing only inches behind her left shoulder trying to see what had captured his young guest's interests.

"Mr. Thornton-" Margaret blushed as if she had been caught in an unseemly act. She could not help but wonder how long he had been there.

Keeping his eyes on the scene below, Mr. Thornton simply asked, "What is it that has you so absorbed, Miss Hale?" Margaret shifted nervously at his nearness, however, was pleased be received by a gentle voice. She turned back toward the window.

"I had never imagined the inner workings of your mill to be so," she paused thinking, "uniformed, for lack of a better word. I suppose I have simply lost myself in the motion of it all. It has been quite soothing if you don't mind me saying." Margaret turned her head toward the tall form beside her.

"Not at all, Miss Hale." Mr. Thornton was pleased to hear a kind word from her regarding his work, and not to enter into a reprimand in one form or another. His eyes met hers and he said, "I was very sorry to hear of your father."

"Thank you." Margaret added with her eyes to the floor.

"Well, Miss Hale, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He spoke his sincere question with a sullen tone.

Margaret turned to face him and at feeling their closeness, Mr. Thornton motioned her to have a seat.

"I did not know if you had heard that father's" Margaret's voice caught for a brief moment, "funeral is in Oxford?"

Mr. Thornton walked to his desk and sat upon the ledge in front of the empty chair neighboring Margaret's.

"I am aware." Mr. Thornton's statement was followed by silence. He was facing forward, yet let his eyes drift to the lovely form that sat in his office. He wondered at her presence.

"I was wondering if, well, if you might be going. I am only asking because I was wondering, if you are going of course, I thought that I may be able to go with you." Margaret closed her eyes at the end of her clumsy request. She knew that she had no right to expect a kind response.

John Thornton was taken aback by the plea. Miss Hale had never asked anything of him, he had long wished to be of assistance to her in any way. He turned himself toward Margaret as to get a gauge on the manner of her request.

"I am planning of going." He returned in a half answer. Margaret opened her eyes and faced him, her face filled with raw emotion. He could not help but to stare at her with no inhibition. He, who knew her face better than he knew his own. Mr. Thornton had never seen an expression as unbridled and tender as the one that she now displayed, his soul began to stir as he realized that what he was facing was desperation.

"Mr. Thornton, I know that you despise me, in a way I despise myself, but please, I beg of you, take me with you." She could feel the well of tears about to slip from their quiver but Margaret did everything in her power to hold them back.

Mr. Thornton stood and faced the back wall, unable to face Miss Hale after her petition for fear of rushing to her and kissing away the tears that she has yet to shed. How could she possibly think that he despised her? He suddenly felt himself struggling to intake a breath, he would give his left arm to despise her.

"You may certainly accompany me." Mr. Thornton did not know what to expect from his reply, but after a long moment of silence, he turned around to ensure that she was still in his office. To his surprise, she had her arms folded on the edge of his desk with her head lying upon them. Her body was trembling and though she did not make a sound, it was apparent that she was weeping. He took a seat in the chair near her and began to place his hand on her back. When it was but mere inches from its destination, he stopped with a tremor and closed his eyes slowly pulling it back to his lap in a firm fist.

"Miss Hale?" He asked in a near whisper.

"I am so sorry," She sat up in an attempt to explain. He pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and gave it to her in a manner that ensured contact upon her retrieval. She dried her tears with his simple cotton handkerchief, but it appeared to be of no use as more replaced those that she had wiped away. "I am so very sorry." She repeated once more.

"There is no reason to apologize for grieving Mar- Miss Hale. It is natural. You have lost so much in so short a time. I am happy to give you any little comfort that I may offer." He stopped but could not hesitate to add, "Please never hesitate to ask anything of me."

Mr. Thornton wanted nothing more than to hold Margaret, to touch her and to tell her that she need not suffer alone. Had things have been different between them over these past eighteen months, perhaps he could have comforted her, himself in turn. For now, all that he could do was silently allow his broken heart to watch her weep. Margaret looked to him and painted on a smile.

"Should I bring Dixon? When will we be leaving?" She thought that it would be best to iron out the details.

"I was planning to leave at 6 in the morning. I have already commissioned the horses. I am sorry that we cannot leave tonight, as I know that to be an inconvenient time." He paused, "Would it be easier for you if we were to leave tonight?" He asked, it would be difficult, but he could change his plans if she wished. He would do anything for a friend as good as Mr. Hale, he told himself.

"No, thank you, thank you ever so much. I will be here at that time." Miss Hale replied.

"I will have the carriage and meet you at your home, there is no reason for you to walk all this way at that hour. And Miss Hale, we may need to find lodging for tomorrow evening. I am planning to bring an overnight bag." He had not planned on staying the night, but felt that the trip may be taxing, and she may need the rest.

"Thank you again. I don't think that I will ever be able to fully express my gratitude towards you. I will leave you to your work." Margaret stood and walked toward the door. With her hand on the knob, she realized that she was still holding his handkerchief. Margaret turned and handed it toward him.

"Keep it. I think that you need it today more than I do." Mr. Thornton said. He was pleased that she did not argue. He met her eyes with a genial smile and held out his hand, praying that it would be accepted. Margaret allowed the corners of her mouth to lurch upwards very slightly and accepted his hand. With an amicable shake, and a slight bow of her head, Margaret wordlessly left his office.