"Oh, I don't know. Anybody can have a party. Something like Tammany, maybe. You'd been sent to prison because it was you that had got them their decent wages, and had the nice little houses built down at Mill End. And there was a conspiracy against you, and she heard of it and came over to tell them how it was. But you were in prison because you stood up for labour."
"My word!" said Jeff. "And they believed her."
"Anybody'd believe anything from Madame Beattie," Lydia said positively. "She told them lots of stories about you, lovely stories. Sometimes she'd tell them to me afterward. She made you into a hero."
"Moses," said Jeff, "leading them out of bondage."
"Yes. Come, we can't stand here. If Miss Amabel sees us she'll think we're crazy."
They walked down the path and out between the stone pillars where he had met Esther. Jeff remembered it, and out of his wish to let Lydia into his mind said, as they passed into the street:
"I have heard from her."
Lydia's sudden happiness in the night and in his company—in knowing, too, she was well aware, that there was no Esther near—saw the cup dashed from her lips. Jeff didn't wait for her to answer.
"From the boat," he said. "It was very short. She was with him. We weren't to send her any more money. She said she had taken his name."
"How can she?" said Lydia stupidly. "She couldn't marry him."