"Sophia, my dear," said her mother, "are the night candles there? Light your cousins' candles.--I am sure they are wishing to go; and it is getting late. You will not see Mr Grey to-night, my dears. He has been sent for to a distance."

At this moment, the scrambling of a horse's feet was heard on the gravel before the front door. Sophia looked at her mother, and each lighted a candle precipitately, and thrust it into a hand of each cousin.

"There, go, my dears," said Mrs Grey. "Never mind stopping for Mr Grey. I will deliver your good-night to him. You will have to be rather early in the morning, you know. Good-night, good-night."

Thus Hester and Margaret were hurried up-stairs, while the front door was in the act of being unbarred for Mr Grey's entrance. Morris was despatched after them, with equal speed, by Mrs Grey's orders, and she reached their chamber-door at the same moment that they did.

Hester set down her candle, bade Morris shut the door, and threw herself into an armchair with wonderful decision of manner, declaring that she had never been so treated;--to be amused and sent to bed like a baby, in a house where she was a guest!

"I am afraid something is the matter," said Margaret.

"What then? they might have told us so, and said plainly that they had rather be alone."

"People must choose their own ways of managing their own affairs, you know: and what those ways are cannot matter to us, as long as we are not offended at them."

"Do you take your own way of viewing their behaviour, then, and leave me mine," said Hester hastily.

Morris feared there was something amiss; and she believed Alice knew what it was: but she had not told either cook or housemaid a syllable about it. By Morris's account, Alice had been playing the mysterious in the kitchen as her mistress had in the parlour. Mr Grey had been suddenly sent for, and had saddled his horse himself, as his people were all gone, and there was no one on the premises to do it for him. A wine-gla.s.s had also been called for, for Miss Sophia, whose weeping had been overheard. Master Sydney had gone to his room very cross, complaining of his mother's having questioned him overmuch about his ride, and then sent him to bed half an hour before his usual time.

A deadly fear seized upon Margaret's heart, when she heard of Sydney's complaint of being overmuch questioned about his ride,--a deadly fear for Hester. If her suspicion should prove true, it was out of pure consideration that they had been "amused and sent to bed like babies."

A glance at Hester showed that the same apprehension had crossed her mind. Her eyes were closed for a moment, and her face was white as ashes. It was not for long, however. She presently said, with decision, that whatever was the matter, it must be some entirely private affair of the Greys'. If any accident had happened to any one in the village,--if bad news had arrived of any common friend,--there would be no occasion for secrecy. In such a case, Mrs Grey would have given herself the comfort of speaking of it to her guests. It must certainly be some entirely private, some family affair.--Hester was sincere in what she said. She knew so little of the state of her own heart, that she could not conceive how some things in it could be divined or speculated upon by others. Still only on the brink of the discovery that she loved Mr Hope, she could never have imagined that any one else could dream of such a thing,--much less act upon it. She was angry with herself for letting her fears now point for a moment to Mr Hope; for, if this bad news had related to him, her sister and she would, of course, have heard of it the next moment after the Greys. Margaret caught her sister's meaning, and strove to the utmost to think as she did; but Sydney's complaint of being "overmuch questioned about his ride" was fatal to the attempt. It returned upon her incessantly during the night; and when, towards morning, she slept a little, these words seemed to be sounding in her ear all the while. Before undressing, both she and Hester had been unable to resist stepping out upon the stairs to watch for signs whether it was the intention of the family to sit up or go to rest. All had retired to their rooms some time before midnight; and then it was certain that nothing more could be learned before morning.

Each sister believed that the other slept; but neither could be sure.

It was an utterly wretched night to both, and the first which they had ever pa.s.sed in misery, without speaking to each other. Margaret's suffering was all from apprehension. Hester was little alarmed in comparison; but she this night underwent the discovery which her sister had made some little time ago. She discovered that nothing could happen to her so dreadful as any evil befalling Mr Hope. She discovered that he was more to her than the sister whom she could have declared, but a few hours before, to be the dearest on earth to her. She discovered that she was for ever humbled in her own eyes; that her self-respect had received an incurable wound: for Mr Hope had never given her reason to regard him as more than a friend. During the weary hours of this night, she revolved every conversation, every act of intercourse, which she could recall; and from all that she could remember, the same impression resulted--that Mr Hope was a friend, a kind and sympathising friend-- interested in her views and opinions, in her tastes and feelings;--that he was this kind friend, and nothing more. He had in no case distinguished her from her sister. She had even thought, at times, that Margaret had been the more important of the two to him. That might be from her own jealous temper, which, she knew, was apt to make her fancy every one preferred to herself: but she _had_ thought that he liked Margaret best, as she was sure Mr Enderby did. Whichever way she looked at the case, it was all wretchedness. She had lost her self-sufficiency and self-respect, and she was miserable.

The first rays of morning have a wonderful power of putting to flight the terrors of the darkness, whether their causes lie without us or within. When the first beam of the midsummer sunshine darted into the chamber, through the leafy limes which shaded one side of the apartment, Hester's mood transiently changed. There was a brief reaction in her spirits. She thought she had been making herself miserable far too readily. The mystery of the preceding evening might turn out a trifle: she had been thinking too seriously about her own fancies. If she had really been discovering a great and sad secret about herself, no one else knew it, nor need ever know it. She could command herself; and, in the strength of pride and duty, she would do so. All was not lost.

Before this mood had pa.s.sed away, she fell asleep, with prayer in her heart, and quiet tears upon her cheek. Both sisters were roused from their brief slumbers by a loud tapping at their door. All in readiness to be alarmed, Margaret sprang up, and was at the door to know who was there.

"It is us--it is we, f.a.n.n.y and Mary, cousin Margaret," answered the twins, "come to call you. It is such a fine morning, you can't think.

Papa does not believe we shall have a drop of rain to-day. The baker's boy has just carried the rolls,--such a basket-full!--to Mrs Rowland's: so you must get up. Mamma is getting up already."

The sisters were vexed to have been thrown into a terror for nothing; but it was a great relief to find Mr Grey prophesying fine weather for the excursion. Nothing could have happened to cast a doubt over it.

Margaret, too, now began to think that the mystery might turn out a trifle; and she threw up the sash, to let in the fresh air, with a gaiety of spirits she had little expected to feel.

Another tap at the door. It was Morris, with the news that it was a fine morning, that the whole house was astir, and that she had no further news to tell.

Another tap before they were half-dressed. It was Mrs Grey, with a face quite as sorrowful as on the preceding evening, and the peculiar nervous expression about the mouth--which served her instead of tears.

"Have you done with Morris yet, my dears?"

"Morris, you may go," said Hester, steadily.

Mrs Grey gazed at her with a mournful inquisitiveness, while she spoke; and kept her eyes fixed on Hester throughout, though what she said seemed addressed to both sisters.

"There is something the matter, Mrs Grey," continued Hester, calmly.

"Say what it is. You had better have told us last night."

"I thought it best not to break your sleep, my dears. We always think bad news is best told in the morning."

"Tell us," said Margaret. Hester quietly seated herself on the bed.

"It concerns our valued friend, Mr Hope," said Mrs Grey. Hester's colour had been going from the moment Mrs Grey entered the room: it was now quite gone; but she preserved her calmness.

"He was safe when Sydney lost sight of him, on the ridge of the hill, on the Dingleford road; but he afterwards had an accident."

"What kind of accident?" inquired Margaret.

"Is he killed?" asked Hester.

"No, not killed. He was found insensible in the road. The miller's boy observed his horse, without a rider, plunge into the river below the dam, and swim across; and another person saw the pony Sydney had been riding, grazing with a side-saddle on, on the common. This made them search, and they found Mr Hope lying in the road insensible, as I told you."

"What is thought of his state?" asked Margaret.

"Two medical men were called immediately from the nearest places, and Mr Grey saw them last night; for the news reached us while you were at the piano, and we thought--"

"Yes but what do the medical men say?"

"They do not speak very favourably. It is a concussion of the brain.

They declare the case is not hopeless, and that is all they can say. He has not spoken yet; only just opened his eyes: but we are a.s.sured the case is not quite desperate; so we must hope for the best."

"I am glad the case is not desperate," said Hester. "He would be a great loss to you all."

Mrs Grey looked at her in amazement, and then at Margaret. Margaret's eyes were full of tears. She comprehended and respected the effort her sister was making.

"Oh, Mrs Grey!" said Margaret, "must we go to-day? Surely it is no time for an excursion of pleasure."

"That must be as you feel disposed, my dears. It would annoy Mrs Rowland very much to have the party broken up; so much so, that some of us must go: but my young people will do their best to fill your places, if you feel yourselves unequal to the exertion." She looked at Hester as she spoke.

"Oh, if anybody goes, we go, of course," said Hester. "I think you are quite right in supposing that the business of the day must proceed. If there was anything to be done by staying at home,--if you could make us of any use, Mrs Grey, it would be a different thing: but--"

"Well, if there is nothing in your feelings which--if you believe yourselves equal to the exertion--"

Margaret now interposed. "One had rather stay at home and be quiet, when one is anxious about one's friends: but other people must be considered, as we seem to be agreed,--Mr and Mrs Rowland, and all the children. So we will proceed with our dressing, Mrs Grey. But can you tell us, before you go, how soon--How soon we shall know;--when this case will probably be decided?"

It might be a few hours, or it might be many days, Mrs Grey said. She should stay at home to-day, in case of anything being sent for from the farmhouse where Mr Hope was lying. He was well attended--in the hands of good nurses--former patients of his own: but something might be wanted; and orders had been left by Mr Grey that application should be made to his house for whatever could be of service: so Mrs Grey could not think of leaving home. Mr Grey would make inquiry at the farmhouse as the party went by to the woods: and he would just turn his horse back in the middle of the day, to inquire again: and thus the Rowlands' party would know more of Mr Hope's state than those who remained at home.

Having explained, Mrs Grey quitted the room, somewhat disappointed that Hester had received the disclosure so well.

The moment the door was closed, Hester sank forward on the bed, her face hidden, but her trembling betraying her emotion.

"I feared this," said Margaret, looking mournfully at her sister.

"You feared what?" asked Hester, quickly, looking up.

"I feared that some accident had happened to Mr Hope."

"So did I."

"And if," said Margaret, "I feared something else--Nay, Hester, you must let me speak. We must have no concealments, Hester. You and I are alone in the world, and we must comfort each other. We agreed to this.