Why should you be ashamed of what you feel? I believe that you have a stronger interest in this misfortune than any one in the world; and why--"

"How do you mean, a stronger interest?" asked Hester, trying to command her voice. "Tell me what you mean, Margaret."

"I mean," said Margaret, steadily, "that no one is so much attached to Mr Hope as you are."

"I think," said Margaret, after a pause, "that Mr Hope has a high respect and strong regard for you." She paused again, and then added, "If I believed anything more, I would tell you."

When Hester could speak again, she said, gently and humbly, "I a.s.sure you, Margaret, I never knew the state of my own mind till this last night. If I had been aware--"

"If you had been aware, you would have been unlike all who ever really loved, if people say true. Now that you have become aware, you will act as you _can_ act--n.o.bly--righteously. You will struggle with your feelings till your mind grows calm. Peace will come in time."

"Do you think there is no hope?"

"Consider his state."

"But if he should recover? Oh, Margaret, how wicked all this is! While he lies there, we are grieving about me! What a selfish wretch I am!"

Margaret had nothing to reply, there seemed so much truth in this. Even she reproached herself with being exclusively anxious about her sister, when such a friend might be dying; when a life of such importance to many was in jeopardy.

"I could do anything, I could bear anything," said Hester, "if I could be sure that n.o.body knew. But you found me out, Margaret, and perhaps--"

"I a.s.sure you, I believe you are safe," said Margaret. "You can hide nothing from me. But, Mrs Grey--and n.o.body except myself, has watched you like Mrs Grey--has gone away, I am certain, completely deceived.

But, Hester! my own precious sister, bear with one word from me! Do not trust too much to your pride."

"I do trust to _my_ pride, and I will," replied Hester, her cheeks in a glow. "Do you suppose I will allow all in this house, all in the village, to be pitying me, to be watching how I suffer, when no one supposes that he gave me cause? It is not to be endured, even in the bare thought. No. If you do not betray me--"

"I betray you?"

"Well, well! I know you will not: and then I am safe. _My_ pride I can trust to, and I will."

"It will betray you," sighed Margaret. "I do not want you to parade your sorrow, G.o.d knows! It will be better borne in quiet and secrecy.

What I wish for you is, that you should receive this otherwise than as a punishment, a disgrace in your own eyes for something wrong. You have done nothing wrong, nothing that you may not appeal to G.o.d to help you to endure. Take it as a sorrow sent by Him, to be meekly borne, as what no earthly person has any concern with. Be superior to the opinions of the people about us, instead of defying them. Pride will give you no peace: resignation will."

"I am too selfish for this," sighed Hester. "I hate myself, Margaret.

I have not even the grace to love _him_, except for my own sake; and while he is dying, I am planning to save my pride! I do not care what becomes of me. Come, Margaret, let us dress and go down. Do not trouble your kind heart about me: I am not worth it."

This mood gave way a little to Margaret's grief and endearments; but Hester issued from her chamber for the day in a state of towering pride, secretly alternating with the anguish of self-contempt.

It was a miserable day, as wretched a party of pleasure as could be imagined. Mrs Rowland was occupied in thinking, and occasionally saying, how strangely everything fell out to torment her, how something always occurred to cross every plan of hers. She talked about this to her mother, Sophia, and Hester, who were in the barouche with her, till the whole cavalcade stopped, just before reaching the farmhouse where Mr Hope lay, and to which Mr Grey rode on to make inquiries. Margaret was with Mr Rowland in his gig. It was a breathless three minutes till Mr Grey brought the news. Margaret wondered how Hester was bearing it: it would have pleased her to have known that Mrs Rowland was holding forth so strenuously upon her disappointment about a dress at the last Buckley ball, and about her children having had the measles on the only occasion when Mr Rowland could have taken her to the races in the next county, that Hester might sit in silence, and bear the suspense un.o.bserved. Mr Grey reappeared, quite as soon as he could be looked for. There might have been worse news. Mr Hope was no longer in a stupor: he was delirious. His medical attendants could not p.r.o.nounce any judgment upon the case further than that it was not hopeless. They had known recovery in similar cases. As Mr Grey bore his report from carriage to carriage, every one strove to speak cheerfully, and to make the best of the case; and those who were not the most interested really satisfied themselves with the truth that the tidings were better than they might have been.

The damp upon the spirits of the party was most evident, when all had descended from the carriages, and were collected in the woods. There was a general tremor about accidents. If one of the gentlemen had gone forward to explore, or the children had lagged behind for play, there was a shouting, and a general stop, till the missing party appeared.

Miss Young would fain have declined her pony, which was duly in waiting for her. It was only because she felt that no individual could well be spared from the party that she mounted at all. Mr Hope was to have had the charge of her; and though she had requested Sydney to take his place, as far as was necessary, Mr Enderby insisted on doing so; a circ.u.mstance which did not add to her satisfaction. She was not altogether so heart-sick as her friends, the Ibbotsons; but even to her, everything was weariness of spirit:--the landscape seemed dull; the splendid dinner on the gra.s.s tiresome; the sunshine sickly; and even the children, with their laughter and practical jokes, fatiguing and troublesome. Even she could easily have spoken sharply to each and all of the little ones. If she felt so, what must the day have been to Hester? She bore up well under any observation that she might suppose herself the object of; but Margaret saw how laboriously she strove, and in vain, to eat; how welcome was the gla.s.s of wine; how mechanical her singing after dinner; and how impatient she was of sitting still. The strangest thing was to see her walking in a dim glade, in the afternoon, arm-in-arm with Mrs Rowland,--as if in the most confidential conversation,--Mrs Rowland apparently offering the confidence, and Hester receiving it.

"Look at them!" said Mr Enderby. "Who would believe that my sister prohibited solitary walks and _tete-a-tetes_, only three hours ago, on the ground that every one ought to be sociable to-day? I shall go and break up the conference."

"Pray do not," said Margaret. "Let them forget rules, and pa.s.s their time as they like best."

"Oh! but here is news of Hope. Mr Grey has now brought word that he is no worse. I begin to think he may get through, which, G.o.d knows I had no idea of this morning."

"Do you really think so? But do not tell other people, unless you are quite confident that you really mean what you say."

"I may be wrong, of course: but I do think the chances improve with every hour that he does not get worse; and he is certainly not worse. I have a strong presentiment that he will struggle through."

"Go, then; and tell as many people as you choose: only make them understand how much is presentiment."

The _tete-a-tete_ between the ladies, being broken off by Mr Enderby with his tidings, was not renewed. Hester walked beside Miss Young's pony, her cheek flushed, and her eye bright. Margaret thought there was pride underneath, and not merely the excitement of renewed hope, so feeble as that hope must yet be, and so nearly crushed by suspense.

Before the hour fixed for the carriages to be in readiness, the party had given up all pretence of amusing themselves and each other. They sat on a ridge, watching the spot where the vehicles were to a.s.semble; and message after message was sent to the servants, to desire them to make haste. The general wish seemed to be, to be getting home, though the sun was yet some way from its setting. When the first sound of wheels was heard, Hester whispered to her sister--"I cannot be in the same carriage with that woman. No; you must not either. I cannot now tell you why. I dare say Miss Young would take my place, and let me go with the children in the waggon."

"I will do that; and you shall return in Mr Rowland's gig. You can talk or not as you please with him; and he is very kind. He is no more to be blamed for his wife's behaviour, you know, than her mother or her brother. It shall be so. I will manage it."

Margaret could manage what she pleased, with Maria and Mr Enderby both devoted to her. Hester was off with Mr Rowland, and Margaret with one child on her lap, and the others rejoicing at having possession of her, before Mrs Rowland discovered the shifting of parties which had taken place. Often during the ride she wanted to speak to her brother: three times out of four he was not to be had, so busy was he joking with the children, as he trotted his horse beside the waggon; and when he did hear his sister's call he merely answered her questions, said something to make his mother laugh, and dropped into his place beside the waggon again. It struck Maria that the waggon had not been such an attraction in going, though the flowers with which it was canopied had then been fresh, and the children more merry and good-humoured than now.

The report to be carried home to Deerbrook was, that Mr Hope was still no worse: it was thought that his delirium was somewhat quieter. Mrs Grey was out on the steps to hear the news, when the carriage approached. As it happened, the gig arrived first, and Hester had to give the relation. She spoke even cheerfully, declaring Mr Enderby's opinion, that the case was going on favourably, and that recovery was very possible. Mrs Grey, who had had a wretchedly anxious day by herself, not having enjoyed even the satisfaction of being useful, nothing having been sent for from the farmhouse, was truly cheered by seeing her family about her again.

"I have been watching for you this hour," said she; "and yet I hardly expected you so soon. As it grew late, I began to fancy all manner of accidents that might befall you. When one accident happens, it makes one fancy so many more! I could not help thinking about Mr Grey's horse. Does that horse seem to you perfectly steady, Hester? Well, I am glad of it: but I once saw it shy from some linen on a hedge, and it was in my mind all this afternoon. Here you are, all safe, however: and I trust we may feel more cheerfully now about our good friend. If he goes on to grow better, I shall get Mr Grey to drive me over soon to see him. But, my dears, what will you have after your ride? Shall I order tea, or will you have something more substantial?"

"Tea, if you please," said Hester. Her tongue was parched: and when Margaret followed her up-stairs, she found her drinking water, as if she had been three days deep in the Great Desert.

"Can you tell me now," asked Margaret, "what Mrs Rowland has been saying to you?"

"No, not at present: better wait. Margaret! what do you think now?"

"I think that all looks brighter than it did this morning; but what a wretched day it has been!"

"You found it so, did you? Oh, Margaret, I have longed every hour to lie down to sleep in that wood, and never wake again!"

"I do not wonder: but you will soon feel better. The sleep from which you will wake to-morrow morning will do nearly as well. We must sleep to-night, and hope for good news in the morning."

"No good news will ever come to me again," sighed Hester. "No, no; I do not quite mean that. You need not look at me so. It is ungrateful to say such a thing at this moment. Come: I am ready to go down to tea.

It is really getting dark. I thought this day never would come to an end."

The evening was wearisome enough. Mrs Grey asked how Mrs Rowland had behaved, and Sophia was beginning to tell, when her father checked her, reminding her that she had been enjoying Mrs Rowland's hospitality.

This was all he said, but it was enough to bring on one of Sophia's interminable fits of crying. The children were cross with fatigue: Mrs Grey thought her husband hard upon Sophia; and, to complete the absurdity of the scene, Hester's and Margaret's tears proved uncontrollable. The sight of Sophia's set them flowing; and though they laughed at themselves for the folly of weeping from mere sympathy, this did not mend the matter. Mrs Grey seemed on the verge of tears herself, when she observed that she had expected a cheerful evening after a lonely and anxious day. A deep sob from the three answered to this observation, and they all rose to go to their apartments. Hester was struck by the peculiar tender pressure of the hand given her by Mr Grey, as she offered him her mute good-night. It caused her a fresh burst of grief when she reached her own room.

Margaret was determined not to go to rest without knowing what it was that Mrs Rowland had said to her sister. She pressed for it now, hoping that it would rouse Hester from more painful thoughts.

"Though I have been enjoying that woman's hospitality, as Mr Grey says," declared Hester, "I must speak of her as I think, to you. Oh, she has been so insolent!"

"Insolent to you! How? Why?"

"Nay: you had better ask her why. Her confidence was all about her brother. She seems to think,--she did not say so, or I should have known better how to answer her, but she seems to think that her brother is--(I can hardly speak it even to you, Margaret!)--is in some way in danger from me. Now, you and I know that he cares no more for me than for any one of the people who were there to-day; and yet she went on telling me, and I could not stop her, about the views of his family for him!"

"What views?"

"Views which, I imagine, it by no means follows that he has for himself.

If she has been impertinent to me, she has been even more so to him. I wonder how she dares meddle in his concerns as she does."

"Well, but what views?" persisted Margaret.