“‘Consider!’ ‘Be generous!’” exclaimed Hester in a softened tone. “I might well say, Consider what a situation my husband is placed in! and that I must see justice done to him before I can be generous to others; but I have such a husband that I can afford to spare the wretched, and be generous to the humbled. Go now and do your duty by us: and the next time you hear your wife say that we do not love and are not happy, tell her that if we forbear to crush her, it is because we are too strong for her—too strong in heart, however weak in fortunes:— because we are strong in a peace which she cannot poison, and a love which she will never understand.”
Even at a moment like this, and while feeling that she could not have said the things that Hester said, Margaret’s eyes swam in tears of joy. Here was her sister, in a moment of that high excitement when nothing but truth ventures upon utterance, acknowledging herself blessed in peace which could not be poisoned, and love which the vile could not understand. The day, whatever might be its events, was worth enduring for this.
Mr Rowland walked once or twice up and down the hall, wiped his brows, and then, evidently unable to endure Hester’s presence, said he would let himself out, and there await Mr Hope’s arrival, or anything else that might occur.
Oh! would he ever come? It seemed to Hester like a week since she had given him his umbrella, and seen him ride away.
Hark! Surely this must be—it certainly was his horse this time. Yes—there was Morris calling from the stairs that her master was fighting his way down the street! There was Charles giving notice that the crowd was running round from the back to the front of the house! There was the noise among the people outside, the groaning, the cries!
“Now, ma’am!” said Morris, breathless with the haste she had made down stairs. Morris supposed her mistress would softly let down the chain, open the door just wide enough for Hope to slip in, and shut, bolt, and chain it again. This was what Hester had intended; but her mood was changed. She bade the servants all step out of sight, and then threw the door wide open, going forth herself upon the steps. The people had closed round Hope’s horse; but Philip was pushing his in between the mob and their object, and riding round and round him with a sort of ludicrous gravity, which lowered the tone of the whole affair to Margaret’s mind, and gave her great relief. Mr Rowland was shaking hands with Hope with one hand, and holding the bridle of the uneasy horse with the other. Hope himself was bespattered with mud from head to foot, and his umbrella was broken to pieces. He nodded cheerfully to Hester when she threw open the door. When she held out her hand to him with a smile as he ascended the steps, the noise of the crowd was suddenly hushed. They understood rather more of what they saw than of anything that could be said to them. They allowed Charles to come out, and lead the horse away round the corner to the stable. They stood stock-still, gaping and staring, while Hope invited Mr Rowland in, and Mr Rowland declined entering; while that gentleman shook hands with the ladies, spoke with Mr Enderby, mounted Mr Enderby’s horse, and rode off. They saw Philip turn slowly into the house with the family party, and the door closed, before they thought of giving another groan.
“Well, love!” said Hester, looking anxiously at her husband.
“You made good battle,” said Philip.
“Yes, I had a pretty hard fight of it, from the toll-bar hither,” said Hope, stretching vigorously. “They wrenched my whip out of my hand—five hands to one; but then I had my umbrella. I broke it to pieces with rapping their knuckles.”
“Which are as hard as their pates,” observed Philip. “What are we to do next?”