Margaret. I met a friend.

Come in. Do come in.

- Oh, Mr Higgins. - Margaret.

How are you?

Last week I could do nowt else but bar the door.

- I understand. - It were me what made him do it.

No, Mr Higgins, you are not to blame.

I could have set Boucher on a better road.

Sit down, Mr Higgins.

We have all of us left undone those things we ought to have done.

We confess that daily and God, in his mercy, forgives us.

I called him a Judas. A coward.

He were a brave man.

- I want you to help me. - help you? Of course.

When I go down South, I want to take Mrs Boucher with me, and the children.

- Work for them, care for them. - Leave here and go South?

There's no work for me here. I'm blacklisted.

But many a time, Margaret, I've heard you talk of the South.

Perhaps you know somebody who might give me work.

What sort of work could you do?

I reckon I could spade a bit.

But you would not bear the dullness of the life.

Have you been to Marlborough Mills for work?

- Have you been to see Mr Thornton? - Not Thornton himself.

But I've been to t'works. I saw the overlooker.

He bid me go and be damned.

- I wish you had seen Mr Thornton. - Please try to see him.

Oh, such a man as me is not likely to see the master.

I'll write you a note.

A note that you can give to him.

I think I may venture to say it will ensure you a hearing.

What do you say?

You needn't write a note. I'll not have favour currled for me.

But I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll do it for your sake, Margaret.

It taxes my pride above a bit, but I'll do it for you.

- Thank you. - Excuse me, sir.

- Are you still here? - I walted for you. I wanted to speak to you.

Ah, well, you'd better come in.

Now, then...

Take these across to Pinfold in the mill, will you?

- Have a word with you, sir? - Eh?

- A word in private, if you'd be so kind, sir. - Oh?

- Or perhaps we could step outside, master. - Walt here, will you?

- Do you know who that is? - You tell me.

That's Higgins. One of the Ieaders of the union. Been hanging around for hours.

- Higgins? - Aye, a desperate character.

There's some even say he's a sociallst.

Sociallst?

Thank you.

Leave me alone with him for a minute or two.

- well, sir. What do you want with me? - My name's Higgins.

I know that. What do you want? That's the question.

I want work. So will you Iay me on?

You're a fine chap, coming asking me for work.

You don't Iack impudence. That's very clear.

- What are you walting for? - I asked a question.

- I'm walting for the answer. - I gave it to you.

all you've done is remarked on my impudence.

It's manners to say yes or no when asked a simpIe question.

I'll repeat it. I'll be thankfuI to your for work.

I've turned off 1 00 of my best hands for following the likes of you.

Do you think I'd set you on? Might as well throw a firebrand into t'middIe of t'cotton waste!

- I'd make you promises. - What promises?

I promise I'll not speak a word as could do you harm

if you do right by us working men.

And I promise if I see you going wrong, acting unfair,

I'd speak to you in private first, and that'd be fair warning.

You don't make small beer of yourself, do you?

You'll not give me work?

I'm sorry to have troubled you. I were coaxed on by a woman.

well, tell her to mind her own business, in future.

Go on, get out!

I'm obIiged to you for your kindness, master.

But most of all for your civil way of saying goodbye.

Good day to you.

You certainly sent him off with his tall between his legs.

- What was he after, sir? - After work.

- Work? What, here, sir? - Aye.

Cheek of the man.

Mind you, they do say he's not the revolutionary he was.

Not since he caused that fellow's death.

Who's death?

Boucher. Drowned hisself. That Higgins has it on his conscience.

And so he should have.

Trled to make up for it by looking after Boucher's wife and children.

children?

Six of them.

Starving to death. Tragic, I know. But I looks at it this way, sir.

The BibIe says the sins of the father shall be visited on the children.

Mayhap it's the Lord's way of weeding out the riffraff.

You told him I sent you?

I didn't call you by name.

I told him a woman had advised me to come.

And he?

Oh, he told me to tell you to mind your own business.

Never mind, them are civil words to what he used to me.

(Urgent knocking)

- Mr Higgins. Can I have a word with you? - You? Calling here?

You'd best come in.

- Miss Hale. - Good evening, Mr Thornton.

I apoIogise. I didn't know you had company.

- I was on the point of leaving. - But you've only just come.

well, my main intention was to call on Mrs Boucher.

To see if I can be of help to her.

Aye, poor woman. Don't let me keep you, then.

I had no knowledge that you were here. I didn't know you were a friend of Mr Higgins.

This was the woman you said was to mind her own business.

It was you?

Ah. I apoIogise for my hasty words.

- I wonder if I might ask you a favour. - Favour? ApoIogise?

You're Iearning manners at Iast?

Never having been in your house before, you may think this impertinent,

but I'd be deeply gratefuI if you'd allow Miss Hale and me

to have a few words together - alone.

Put like that, and you a guest,

time and a bit of rented space, to that you're welcome, Mr Thornton.

I'll walt in the yard till you're finished.

You... You had a visit from my mother, I understand?

I did.

I regret what took place.

I would not have you hunted and badgered.

Miss Hale, have you no expIanation?

You must know what I can't but think.

I am aware of what I must appear to you.

But I'm not in a position to explain.

If I did, I would bring harm to another person.

Then I'll ask no further.

I thought we might have had something to say

but I see that we mean nothing to one another.

I hope you're quite convinced that any foolish passion on my part is entirely over.

Yes.

Then if you will excuse me...

..good evening, Mr Thornton.

Miss Hale.

- Good night, ma'am. - Is there anything for Mrs Boucher?

well, Mr Thornton, what is it you wanted?

- will you take work with me? - Work for you after today? What's the catch?

- No catch. I didn't know about the children. - Boucher's children? What are they to you?

They're children, that's all.

Mr Thornton, we should have a chat, you and me,

about the principles of the hiring of labour.

I'm not here to discuss the Rights Of Man. will you take the job?

- Cos of Boucher's children? - Aye.

well?

all right. I'll come.

And what's more, I'll thank you. And that's a deaI from me.

That's a deaI from me.

A bargain?

Bargain.

well, it's all done, Papa.

- Dixon and I have packed the big trunk for you. - Thank you, my dear.

Mr Thornton has written once more to say that he must forego his Iesson.

- This is the third time. - You must be disappointed.

Now he must go to France on business.

I'd hoped, particularly, to see him before I left for Oxford.

Margaret,

have you ever had cause to think that Mr Thornton...

..cared for you?

Yes.

Oh, Papa, I should have told you.

My dear, I'm sure you would have if you had returned his regard.

Did he...speak to you of it?

- Yes. - And you refused him?

Yes.

Forgive me for not telling you more,

but the whoIe thing is so painfuI to me that I... cannot bear to think of it.

I understand, my dear.

I'm so sorry to have lost you a friend.

I... I couldn't help it.

But...

(Sobs) Oh, I'm sorry.

Oh, Margaret, I'm sorry, too.

But, my dear, if it distresses you so much,

why don't you come to Oxford with me?

Your godfather would be delighted to see you.

Oh, you're both very kind.

After all that has happened these Iast few months,

I shall enjoy the peace and qulet of remaining here with Dixon.

You will take care of yourself? You promise me?

Yes, Papa, I will.

I shall be sorry to leave you, Margaret. It will seem strange without you.

Oh... But you know how happy you'll be to be in Oxford again, after all this time.

Yes, indeed, it is a Iong time.

I must confess, Margaret, I feel a little nervous.

Oh, you will feel differently tomorrow, once you've arrived.

Mm.

Ah, thank you. Oh.

- Thank you, thank you. - Thank you, sir.

- Oh. - (Train whistIe toots)

Why, Mr Bell!

Thornton? well, what are you doing on this train?

I caught it in London.

I'm on my way back from France. Been doing some business there.

- SuccessfuIly, I hope. - well, yes.

It's got me out of troubIe for the time belng.

How about you? Don't tell me you're on your way to Milton.

Yes. Yes, I am.

Not to put up my rent, I hope. We've got to the stage of diminishing returns.

Oh, come now. You've never found me an unreasonable IandIord, have you?

Aye, not so far as IandIords go, no.

But what is the purpose of your visit, may I ask?

- A most melancholy errand, I'm afraid. - Oh?

You know Mr Hale's been staying with me for the Iast few weeks?

- Yes. - well, prepare yourself for a shock.

Mr Hale is no more. He passed away Iast night.

What?

He went to bed Iast night, to all appearances in good health and excelIent spirits.

When my servant called him this morning, he had gone.

Hale dead?

He hadn't seen Oxford for 1 7 years.

His visit was a joyfuI reconcillation with his past, with his whoIe life.

He was happier than I've ever known him.

If a man must die, his was a good death.

We can thank God for that.

Does... Does Miss Hale know?

Margaret? No.

I'm on my way to break the news to her.

And now she's alone...what will come of her?

well, it's obvious she won't stay in Milton.

Most likely she will go to London and Iive with her aunt, Mrs Shaw.

Oh. London. Yes, I see.

- (Whispering) - Thank you, Dixon.

- She's in there, sir. - Oh, yes.

I'll just have a word with her. Thank you.

Margaret?

Margaret, my dear?

Yes, Godfather.

I know this has all been a terribIe shock to you.

But I have things that I ought to discuss with you.

Can you bear to listen to me?

- Yes, of course. - Ah. Good, good.

Now...

I've written to your aunt and she should be arriving tomorrow.

Yes.

Now, I think it most likely she'll want to return with you to London as soon as possibIe.

You will be happy in London, won't you?