"I thought he had gone away?"
"There may be a stratagem in that. I have been keeping what watch I could—but at this time—what use am I?"
The Rector threw himself back wearily in his chair, his hands behind his head. Mary was conscious of some deep throb of feeling that must not come to words. Even since she had known it the face had grown older—the lines deeper—the eyes finer. She stooped forward a little.
"It is hard that you should have this anxiety too. Oh! but I hope there is no need!"
He raised himself again with energy.
"There is always need with Hester. Oh! don't suppose I have forgotten her! I have written to that fellow, my cousin. I went, indeed, to see him the day before yesterday, but the servants at Sandford declared he had gone to town, and they were packing up to follow. Lady Fox-Wilton and Miss Alice here have been keeping a close eye on Hester herself, I know; but if she chose, she could elude us all!"
"She couldn't give such pain—such trouble!" cried Mary indignantly.
The Rector shook his head sadly. Then he looked at his companion.
"Has she made a friend of you? I wish she would."
"Oh! she doesn't take any account of me," said Mary, laughing. "She is quite kind to me—she tells me when she thinks my frock is hideous—or my hat's impossible—or she corrects my French accent. She is quite kind, but she would no more think of taking advice from me than from the sofa-cushion."