"I don't know how to take it," he said, "or how to understand it. There are news of—Edward."
The last gleam of hope shot across Hester's mind.
"He is coming back?" she said, clasping her hands.
Harry shook his head.
"Will you come with me to the door? It is such a lovely night."
She had not the courage or the presence of mind to say no. She went down stairs with him, where the lamps were lighted again, and out to the gate—the same hour, the same atmosphere as last night. Was it only last night that all had happened? She could have turned and fled in the tremor, the horror of the recollection. Just there she lay at Catherine's feet. Just there Catherine had stood and listened.
Hester stood her ground like a martyr. She knew she must learn to do so, and that it would not be possible to avoid the place made so bitter by recollection. Harry did not know how to speak. He shifted uneasily from one foot to another. "He has been traced to town; he got in at the junction, not here. He reached London this morning, very early—with a lady."
"With a lady!"
Hester had expected a great shock, but the astonishment of this took its sting away.