“How does that agree with his conduct to Margaret? Or am I mistaken in what I have told you I thought about that? Seriously—very seriously—how do you suppose the case stands with Margaret?”
“I know no more than you. I think he went further than he ought, if he was thinking of another; and, but for his conduct since, I should have quite concluded, from some observations that I made, that he was attached to Margaret.”
“And she—?”
“And she certainly likes him very well; but I can hardly fancy her happiness at stake. I have thought her spirit rather flat of late.”
Hope sighed deeply.
“Ah! you may well sigh,” said Hester, sighing herself, and sinking back in her chair. “You know what I am going to say. I thought I might be the cause of her being less gay than she should be. I have disappointed her expectations, I know. But let us talk only of her.”
“Yes: let us talk only of her, till we have settled what is our duty to her. Ought we to tell her of this or not?”
Both considered long. At length Hester said—
“I think she ought to hear it quietly at home first (whether it be true or not), to prepare her for anything that may be reported abroad. Perhaps, if you were to drop, as we sit together here, what Mrs Enderby said—”
“No, no; not I,” said Hope, quickly. He went on more calmly: “Her sister and bosom friend is the only person to do this—if, indeed, it ought to be done. But the news may be untrue; and then she need perhaps never hear it. Do not let us be in a hurry.”