'No!' said Mr. Hale. 'That would not answer. I must do something.
I must make myself busy, to keep off morbid thoughts. Besides, in
a country parish I should be so painfully reminded of Helstone,
and my duties here. I could not bear it, Margaret. And a hundred
a year would go a very little way, after the necessary wants of
housekeeping are met, towards providing your mother with all the
comforts she has been accustomed to, and ought to have. No: we
must go to Milton. That is settled. I can always decide better by
myself, and not influenced by those whom I love,' said he, as a
half apology for having arranged so much before he had told any
one of his family of his intentions. 'I cannot stand objections.
They make me so undecided.'

Margaret resolved to keep silence. After all, what did it signify
where they went, compared to the one terrible change?

Mr. Hale continued: 'A few months ago, when my misery of doubt
became more than I could bear without speaking, I wrote to Mr.
Bell--you remember Mr. Bell, Margaret?'

'No; I never saw him, I think. But I know who he is. Frederick's
godfather--your old tutor at Oxford, don't you mean?'

'Yes. He is a Fellow of Plymouth College there. He is a native of
Milton-Northern, I believe. At any rate, he has property there,
which has very much increased in value since Milton has become
such a large manufacturing town. Well, I had reason to
suspect--to imagine--I had better say nothing about it, however.
But I felt sure of sympathy from Mr. Bell. I don't know that he