“They say Mr Philip is coming,” observed Mr Grey.
“Oh, I hope he is!” cried Sydney, turning round to listen.
“Some people say that he is otherwise occupied,” observed Sophia, “If all accounts be true—” She caught her mother’s eye, and stopped suddenly and awkwardly.
Mr Hope involuntarily glanced at Margaret, as one or two others were doing at the same time. Nothing was to be discerned, for she was stooping over the volume of engravings that she was showing to William Levitt; and she remained stooping for a long while.
When the proper amount of playing and singing had been gone through, and Mrs Grey’s sedan was announced the cloaked and muffled guest left behind a not very happy party. Margaret’s gaiety seemed exhausted, and she asked if it was not late. Hester was gazing at her husband. She saw the perspiration on his brow. She put her arm within his, and anxiously inquired whether he was not unwell. She was sure he had never fully recovered his strength: she had not taken care enough of him: why did he not tell her when he was weary and wanted nursing?
Mr Hope looked at her with an unaffected surprise, which went far to console her, and assured her that he was perfectly well; and that, moreover, he was so fond of indulgence that she would be sure to hear of it, if ever he could find a pretence for getting upon the sofa.
Hester was comforted, but said that his spirits were not always what they had been: and she appealed to Margaret. Margaret declared that any failure of spirits in Edward was such a new idea, that she must consider before she gave an answer. She thought that he had been too busy to draw so many caricatures as usual lately; but she had observed no deeper signs of despondency than that.
“Do not let us get into the habit of talking about spirits,” said Hope. “I hear quite enough about that away from home; and I can assure you, professionally, that it is a bad subject to dwell upon. Every one who lives has variations of spirits: they are like the sunshine, or like Dr Levitt’s last sermon, of which Mrs Enderby says every Sunday in the church porch—‘It is to be felt, not talked about.’”
“But, as a sign of health—” said Hester.
“As a sign of health, my dear, the spirits of all this household may be left to my professional discrimination. Will you trust me, my dear?”