Poor Margaret! All that afternoon she had to act the part of a Roman daughter, and give strength out of her own scanty stock to her father. Mr. Hale would hope, would not despair, between the attacks of his wife's malady; he buoyed himself up in every respite from her pain, and believed that it was the beginning of ultimate recovery. And so, when the paroxysms came on, each more severe than the last, they were fresh agonies, and greater disappointments to him. This afternoon, he sat in the drawing-room, unable to bear the solitude of his study, or to employ himself in any way. He buried his head in his arms, which lay folded on the table. Margaret's heart ached to see him; yet, as he did not speak, she did not like to volunteer any attempt at comfort. Martha was gone. Dixon sat with Mrs. Hale while she slept. The house was very still and quiet, and darkness came on, without any movement to procure candles. 
Poor Margaret! All that afternoon she had to give strength to her father. Mr. Hale would hope, would not despair; he buoyed himself up in every respite from her pain, and believed that it was the beginning of recovery. And so, when the paroxysms came on again, each more severe than the last, they were fresh agonies to him.
This afternoon, he sat in the drawing-room with his head buried in his arms, which lay folded on the table. Margaret's heart ached to see him; yet, as he did not speak, she did not either. Martha was gone. Dixon sat with Mrs. Hale while she slept. The house was very still and quiet, and darkness came on. 