When she found her daughter in the small parlour she had settled much in her mind.  During the early morning,—­that is, till Mr. Bolton should have gone into Cambridge,—­not a word should be said about the marriage.  Then when they two would be alone together, another attempt should be made to persuade Hester to come and live at Chesterton till after the trial.  But even in making that attempt no opinion should be expressed as to John Caldigate’s wickedness, and no hint should be given as to the coming incarceration.  ‘Did you bring baby down with you?’ the grandmother asked.  No; baby had been awake ever so long, and then had gone to sleep again, and the nurse was now with him to protect him from the sufferings incident to waking.  ’Your papa will be down soon, and then we will have breakfast,’ said Mrs. Bolton.  After that there was silence between them for some time.

A bond of discord, if the phrase may be allowed, is often quite as strong as any bond coming from concord and agreement.  There was to both these women a subject of such paramount importance to each that none other could furnish matter of natural conversation.  The one was saying to herself ever and always, ’He is my husband.  Let the outside world say what it may, he is my husband.’  But the other was as constantly denying to herself this assertion and saying, ’He is not her husband.  Certainly he is not her husband.’  And as to the one the possession of that which she claimed was all the world, and as to the other the idea of the possession without true possession entailed upon her child pollution, crime, and ignominy, it was impossible but that the mind of each should be too full to admit of aught but forced expressions on other matters.  It was in vain for them to attempt to talk of the garden, the house, the church, or of the old man’s health.  It was in vain even to attempt to talk of the baby.  There are people who, however full their hearts may be, full of anger or full of joy, can keep the fulness in abeyance till a chosen time for exhibiting it shall come.  But neither of these two was such a person.  Every stiff plait in the elder woman’s muslin and crape declared her conviction that John Caldigate was not legally married to her daughter.  Every glance of Hester’s eye, every motion made with her hands, every little shake of her head, declared her purpose of fighting for that one fact, whatever might be the odds against her.

When the banker came down to breakfast things were better for a little time.  The pouring out of his tea mitigated somewhat the starchiness of his wife’s severity, and Hester when cutting the loaf for him could seem to take an interest in performing an old duty.  He said not a word against Caldigate; and when he went out, Hester, as had been her custom, accompanied him to the gate.  ‘Of course you will be here when I come,’ he said.

‘Oh yes; I do not go home till to-morrow.’  Then she parted from him, and spent the next hour or two up-stairs with her baby.