"Take care," said Margaret, her cheek flushing, and her eye lightening, "how you judge, Bessy. I shall go home to my mother, who is so ill--so ill, Bessy, that there's no outlet but death for her out of prison of her great suffering; and yet I must speak cheerfully to my father, who has no notion of her real state, and to whom the knowledge must come gradually. The only person--the only one who could sympathise with me and help me--whose presence could comfort my mother more than any other earthly thing--is falsely accused--would run the risk of death if he came to see his dying mother. This I tell you--only you, Bessy. You must not mention it. No other person in Milton--hardly any other person in England knows. Have I not care? Do I not know anxiety, though I go about well-dressed, and have food enough? Oh, Bessy, God is just, and our lots are well portioned out by Him, although none but He knows the bitterness of our souls."

'Take care how you judge,' said Margaret, flushing. 'I shall go home to my mother, who is so ill that only death will free her from her great suffering; and yet I must speak cheerfully to my father, who has no notion of her real state. The only person who could help me - who could comfort my mother more than any other - is falsely accused, and would risk death if he came to see her. You must not mention this, Bessy. No other person in Milton knows it. I know anxiety, though I go about well-dressed, and have food enough. Oh, Bessy, God is just, and our lots are well portioned out by Him, although none but He knows the bitterness of our souls.'
