“She would not! Well, that shows what love will do. That shows what her power over Mr Enderby is. We used to think—indeed, everybody used to say it of Mr Enderby, that he always managed to do as he liked—he carried all his points. Yet even he is obliged to yield.”
“Margaret has a way of carrying her points too,” said Hester: “the best way in the world—by being always right.”
“Mind that, Sophia. But, my dear Hester, I am really anxious about you. I had no idea, I am sure—. I hope you get your natural rest.”
“Perfectly, I assure you. Mrs Howell might envy me, if she still ‘cannot sleep for matching of worsteds.’ The simple truth is, Mrs Grey, we never were so happy in our lives. This may seem rather perverse; but so it is.”
Mrs Grey sighed that Mrs Rowland could not be aware of this. Hester thought it was no business of Mrs Rowland’s; but Mrs Grey could not but feel that it would be a great satisfaction that she should know that those whom she hated, slept. She heard Margaret and Sydney saying something in the middle of the grass-plot about the Milky Way: looking up, she was surprised to perceive how plain it was, and how many stars were twinkling in the sky. She was sure Hester must be dreadfully tired with sauntering about so long. They had been very inconsiderate, and must go away directly. Sydney must call his father.
“They are delightful young people, really,” observed Mrs Grey to her husband, during their walk home. “One never knows how to get away. Lady Hunter little supposes what she loses in not cultivating them. Go on before us, Sophia. Make haste home with your sister, Sydney. But, my dear, they speak in a very poor way of their affairs.”
“Oh, Hester spoke to you, did she? Hope told me he must part with his horse. So Hester spoke to you?”
“Yes: not at all in a melancholy way, however. She keeps up her spirits wonderfully, poor girl! We really must push them, Mr Grey. I see nothing but ruin before them, if we do not push them.”
“Ah! there is the difficulty: that is where that little enthusiasm of Hope’s comes in. I have a great respect for him; but I own I should like to see him a little more practical.”
“I really am pleased to hear you say so. It is just what I think; and I always fancied you did not agree with me. It really puts me almost out of patience to hear him speak of Mr Walcot—encouraging Sydney in his notions! It is unnatural: it looks a little like affectation—all that sort of feeling about Mr Walcot.”