knew how it would be when she grew up and became a woman,’ said Mrs. William Bolton.  ’Nobody will be allowed to see her, and she won’t have a chance of settling herself.  When we asked her to come up here for a couple of months in the season, Mrs. Bolton sent me word that London is a terrible place for young girls,—­though, of course, she knew that our own girls were being brought up here.’  Then the ways of Mrs. Bolton at Chesterton and Hester’s future life generally were discussed in a spirit that was by no means unfriendly to our hero.

The suggested inquiries were made in the city, and were all favourable.  Everyone connected with the mining interests of the Australian colonies knew the name of John Caldigate.  All of that class of people were well aware of his prosperity and confirmed good-fortune.  He had brought with him or sent home nobody quite knew how much money.  But it was very well known that he had left his interest in the Polyeuka mine to be sold for L60,000, and now there had come word that a company had created itself for the sake of making the purchase, and that the money would be forthcoming.  The gentleman in the city connected with mining matters did not think that Mr. Caldigate would be called upon to go out to the colony again, unless he chose to do so for his own pleasure.  All this Robert Bolton learned in the City, and he learned also that the man as to whom he was making inquiry was held in high esteem for honesty, perseverance, and capacity.  The result of all this was that he returned to Cambridge with a feeling that his sister ought to be allowed to make the man’s acquaintance.  He and his brother had agreed that something should be done to liberate their sister from her present condition.  Love on the part of a mother may be as injurious as cruelty, if the mother be both tyrannical and superstitious.  While Hester had been a child, no interference had been possible or perhaps expedient,—­but the time had now come when something ought to be done.  Such having been the decision in Harley Street, where the William Boltons lived, Robert Bolton went back home with the intention of carrying it out.

This could only be done through the old man, and even with him not without great care.  He was devotedly attached to his young wife;—­but was very averse to having it thought that he was ruled by her.  Indeed, in all matters affecting his establishment, his means, and his business, he would hardly admit of interference from her at all.  His worldly matters he kept between himself and his sons.  But in regard to his soul he could not restrain her, and sometimes would hardly oppose her.  The prolonged evening prayers, the sermons twice a-week, the two long church services on Sundays,—­indulgence as to the third being allowed to him only on the score of his age,—­he endured at her command.  And in regard to Hester, he had hitherto been ruled by his wife, thinking it proper that a daughter should be left in the hands of her mother.  But now, when he was told that if he did not interfere, his girl would be constrained by the harsh bonds of an unnatural life, stern as he was himself and inclined to be gloomy, little as he was disposed to admit ideas of recreation and delight, he did acknowledge that something should be done to relieve her.  ‘But when I die she must be left in her mother’s hands,’ said the old banker.