This time, I was much more thorough. I kept a yellow marker with me whenever I read it so that I could highlight my favorite parts - which mostly included anything romantic or anything that peaked my interest. I had thought about putting my favorite quotes online, but there are so many I think that I will limit it to my top favorites. Before I do that though, I want to give my review.
I gave it 5 stars. It really was excellently written in beautiful style. I think it was as enjoyable and satisfying as any Jane Austen book. I just loved the language and images that she described. She originally wrote it for a magazine/newspaper that Charles Dickens edited. It was written like a serial. There are 52 chapters, each of which are never more than 10 pages long. I loved it because whenever I had time to sit down and read it, I could always finish a chapter.
Now, into the story itself. It struck me how everyone around Margaret used her. She is portrayed as a strong, independent, beautiful woman. But for all that, her goodness was always taken advantage. First with her father. He tells her about his decision to leave the church. It was very hard for him to tell her and very hard for her to hear. However, he doesn't feel like he can tell his wife, so he asks/makes Margaret do it. Later on, Margaret is required to keep the secret of her mother's illness. Not only that, but she's also required to tend to her as well. Then, her brother, inadvertently uses her to cover up their involvement in the death of Leonards. Over and over, these things happen. Even her cousin uses her as a nurse maid for her children. I was frustrated for her. She should not have been put in those situations, especially if she was as strong and independent as she is described.
It's interesting note the passing of time in this book. Margaret spent two years in Milton, in which both of her parents died and her good friend Bessy Higgins. Then she leaves and moves back to London. She is there for a year, in which Mr. Bell dies and in the end she accepts Mr. Thornton's proposal. When I watched the movie I was not aware of this movement of time.
I loved reading the thoughts of both Margaret and Mr. Thornton. At first they were attracted to each other. Then Margaret is disillusioned with him and really doesn't give him any thought until the strike. Mr. Thornton on the other hand, is captivated from the beginning. However, like Mr. Darcy, he failed in courting her and thus his proposal was refused. It is after this refusal that Margaret starts thinking more about him. Then, when she lies about her brother, she cannot stand the fact that Mr. Thornton knew she was lying, but did not have the courage to dissuade him of this. Whenever she thinks about him she suppresses investigating all of her feelings. After the refusal Mr. Thornton tries to prove to the world that he is not pining over Margaret. He even tries to put himself in her company, to prove his self mastery to himself. While all of the time loving her more and more, even though hope of marriage has died. Then in the end when they meet up again as equals in each other's eyes - it's just magnificent. It was wonderful!
As for the rest of the novel, it was quite enjoyable. I was interested in the workings of not only the commerce in Milton vs. London, but also in the societal differences as well. The characters were well written and each provided their own poignancy to the story. All in all it was a delightful read.
Now for my top favorite quotes. When Mr. Thornton comes over to the Hales for tea, the first time, both he and Margaret take note of each other. First, Mr. Thornton:
"She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, noiseless, daintiness. She had a bracelet on one taper arm, which would fall down over her round wrist. Mr. Thornton watched the replacing of this troublesome ornament with far more attention than he listened to her father. It seemed as if it fascinated him to see her push it up impatiently, until it tightened her soft flesh; and then to mark the loosening--the fall. He could almost have exclaimed--'There it goes, again!' There was so little left to be done after he arrived at the preparation for tea, that he was almost sorry the obligation of eating and drinking came so soon to prevent his watching Margaret. She handed him his cup of tea with the proud air of an unwilling slave; but her eye caught the moment when he was ready for another cup; and he almost longed to ask her to do for him what he saw her compelled to do for her father, who took her little finger and thumb in his masculine hand, and made them serve as sugar-tongs. Mr. Thornton saw her beautiful eyes lifted to her father, full of light, half-laughter and half-love . . ."Then there is Margaret's impressions of him:
"Now, in Mr. Thornton's face the straight brows fell low over the clear, deep-set earnest eyes, which, without being unpleasantly sharp, seemed intent enough to penetrate into the very heart and core of what he was looking at. The lines in the face were few but firm, as if they were carved in marble, and lay principally about the lips, which were slightly compressed over a set of teeth so faultless and beautiful as to give the effect of sudden sunlight when the rare bright smile, coming in an instant and shining out of the eyes, changed the whole look from the severe and resolved expression of a man ready to do and dare everything, to the keen honest enjoyment of the moment, which is seldom shown so fearlessly and instantaneously except by children. Margaret liked this smile; it was the first thing she had admired in this new friend of her father's; and the opposition of character, shown in all these details of appearance she had just been noticing, seemed to explain the attraction they evidently felt towards each other."Then at the dinner party there are Mr. Thornton's thoughts about Margaret:
"He shook hands with Margaret. He knew it was the first time their hands had met, though she was perfectly unconscious of the fact. . . And as he looked with this intention, he was struck anew with her great beauty. He had never seen her in such dress before and yet now it appeared as if such elegance of attire was so befitting her noble figure and lofty serenity of countenance, that she ought to go always thus apparelled. She was talking to Fanny; about what, he could not hear; but he saw his sister's restless way of continually arranging some part of her gown, her wandering eyes, now glancing here, now there, but without any purpose in her observation; and he contrasted them uneasily with the large soft eyes that looked forth steadily at one object, as if from out their light beamed some gentle influence of repose: the curving lines of the red lips, just parted in the interest of listening to what her companion said--the head a little bent forwards, so as to make a long sweeping line from the summit, where the light caught on the glossy raven hair, to the smooth ivory tip of the shoulder; the round white arms, and taper hands, laid lightly across each other, but perfectly motionless in their pretty attitude. Mr. Thornton sighed as he took in all this with one of his sudden comprehensive glances. . . But he never went near her himself; he did not look at her. Only, he knew what she was doing--or not doing--better than he knew the movements of any one else in the room."Margaret's view of him at the same party:
"his whole manner as master of the house, and entertainer of his friends, was so straightforward, yet simple and modest, as to be thoroughly dignified. Margaret thought she had never seen him to so much advantage."When Margaret saves Mr. Thornton from the angry mob, she is struck down.
"He bore her into the dining-room, and laid her on the sofa there; laid her down softly, and looking on her pure white face, the sense of what she was to him came upon him so keenly that he spoke it out in his pain:Then, Mr. Thornton proposes to her:
'Oh, my Margaret--my Margaret! no one can tell what you are to me! Dead--cold as you lie there, you are the only woman I ever loved! Oh, Margaret--Margaret!'"
"yet, even before he left the room,--and certainly, not five minutes after, the clear conviction dawned upon her, shined bright upon her, that he did love her; that he had loved her; that he would love her. And she shrank and shuddered as under the fascination of some great power, repugnant to her whole previous life. She crept away, and hid from his idea. But it was of no use."What happens next:
"When Mr. Thornton had left the house that morning he was almost blinded by his baffled passion. He was as dizzy as if Margaret, instead of looking, and speaking, and moving like a tender graceful woman, had been a sturdy fish-wife, and given him a sound blow with her fists. He had positive bodily pain,--a violent headache, and a throbbing intermittent pulse. He could not bear the noise, the garish light, the continued rumble and movement of the street. He called himself a fool for suffering so; and yet he could not, at the moment, recollect the cause of his suffering, and whether it was adequate to the consequences it had produced. It would have been a relief to him, if he could have sat down and cried on a door-step by a little child, who was raging and storming, through his passionate tears, at some injury he had received. He said to himself, that he hated Margaret, but a wild, sharp sensation of love cleft his dull, thunderous feeling like lightning, even as he shaped the words expressive of hatred. His greatest comfort was in hugging his torment; and in feeling, as he had indeed said to her, that though she might despise him, contemn him, treat him with her proud sovereign indifference, he did not change one whit. She could not make him change. He loved her, and would love her; and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain."When they meet in London, after Margaret's year of being away from Milton:
"Margaret was watching Mr. Thornton's face. He never looked at her; so she might study him unobserved, and note the changes which even this short time had wrought in him. Only at some unexpected mot of Mr. Lennox's, his face flashed out into the old look of intense enjoyment; the merry brightness returned to his eyes, the lips just parted to suggest the brilliant smile of former days; and for an instant, his glance instinctively sought hers, as if he wanted her sympathy. But when their eyes met, his whole countenance changed; he was grave and anxious once more; and he resolutely avoided even looking near her again during dinner."And then of course, the ending most wonderful:
"'Mr. Lennox has only spoken of the great probability which he believes there to be of your redeeming--your more than redeeming what you have lost--don't speak till I have ended--pray don't!' And collecting herself once more, she went on rapidly turning over some law papers, and statements of accounts in a trembling hurried manner. 'Oh! here it is! and--he drew me out a proposal--I wish he was here to explain it--showing that if you would take some money of mine, eighteen thousand and fifty-seven pounds, lying just at this moment unused in the bank, and bringing me in only two and a half per cent.--you could pay me much better interest, and might go on working Marlborough Mills.' Her voice had cleared itself and become more steady. Mr. Thornton did not speak, and she went on looking for some paper on which were written down the proposals for security; for she was most anxious to have it all looked upon in the light of a mere business arrangement, in which the principal advantage would be on her side. While she sought for this paper, her very heart-pulse was arrested by the tone in which Mr. Thornton spoke. His voice was hoarse, and trembling with tender passion, as he said:--
'Margaret!'
For an instant she looked up; and then sought to veil her luminous eyes by dropping her forehead on her hands. Again, stepping nearer, he besought her with another tremulous eager call upon her name.
'Margaret!'
Still lower went the head; more closely hidden was the face, almost resting on the table before her. He came close to her. He knelt by her side, to bring his face to a level with her ear; and whispered-panted out the words:--
'Take care.--If you do not speak--I shall claim you as my own in some strange presumptuous way.--Send me away at once, if I must go;--Margaret!--'
At that third call she turned her face, still covered with her small white hands, towards him, and laid it on his shoulder, hiding it even there; and it was too delicious to feel her soft cheek against his, for him to wish to see either deep blushes or loving eyes. He clasped her close. But they both kept silence. At length she murmured in a broken voice:
'Oh, Mr. Thornton, I am not good enough!'
'Not good enough! Don't mock my own deep feeling of unworthiness.'
After a minute or two, he gently disengaged her hands from her face, and laid her arms as they had once before been placed to protect him from the rioters.
'Do you remember, love?' he murmured. 'And how I requited you with my insolence the next day?'
'I remember how wrongly I spoke to you,--that is all.'
'Look here! Lift up your head. I have something to show you!' She slowly faced him, glowing with beautiful shame.
'Do you know these roses?' he said, drawing out his pocket-book, in which were treasured up some dead flowers.
'No!' she replied, with innocent curiosity. 'Did I give them to you?'
'No! Vanity; you did not. You may have worn sister roses very probably.'
She looked at them, wondering for a minute, then she smiled a little as she said--
'They are from Helstone, are they not? I know the deep indentations round the leaves. Oh! have you been there? When were you there?'
'I wanted to see the place where Margaret grew to what she is, even at the worst time of all, when I had no hope of ever calling her mine. I went there on my return from Havre.'
'You must give them to me,' she said, trying to take them out of his hand with gentle violence.
'Very well. Only you must pay me for them!'
'How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?' she whispered, after some time of delicious silence.
'Let me speak to her.'
'Oh, no! I owe to her,--but what will she say?'
'I can guess. Her first exclamation will be, "That man!"'
'Hush!' said Margaret, 'or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, "That woman!"'"
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