Then there came a letter from Hester to her mother.  Since Mrs. Bolton’s last visit to Folking there had been some correspondence maintained.  A few letters had passed, very sad on each side, in which the daughter had assured the mother of her undying love, and in which the mother had declared that day and night she prayed for her child.  But of Caldigate, neither on one side nor on the other had mention been made.  Now Hester, who was full of hope, and sick with hope deferred, endeavoured to convince her mother that the entire charge against her husband had been proved by new evidence to be false.  She recapitulated all the little details with which the diligent reader must by this time be too well acquainted.  She made quite clear, as she thought, the infamous plot by which the envelope had been made to give false evidence, and she added the assurance that certainly before long her dear, dearest, ill-used husband would be restored to her.  Then she went on to implore her mother’s renewed affection both for herself and him and her boy, promising that bygones should all be bygones; and then she ended by declaring that though the return of her husband would make her very happy, she could not be altogether happy unless her parents also should be restored to her.

To this there came a crushing answer, as follows:—–­

    ‘Puritan Grange, 28th September.’

’Dearest Hester,—­It was unnecessary that you should ask for a renewal of your mother’s love.  There has never been a moment in which she has not loved you,—­more dearly, I fear, than one human creature should ever love another.  When I was strongest in opposing you, I did so from love.  When I watched you in the hall all those hours, endeavouring to save you from further contact with the man who had injured you, I did it from love.  You need not doubt my love.

’But as to all the rest, I cannot agree to a word that you say.  They are plotting with false evidence to rescue the man from prison.  I will not give way to it when my soul tells me that it is untrue.  As your mother, I can only implore you to come back to me, and to save yourself from the further evil which is coming upon you.  It may be that he will be enabled to escape, and then you will again have to live with a husband that is no husband,—­unless you will listen to your mother’s words.

’You are thinking of the good things of this world,—­of a home with all luxuries and ease, and of triumph over those who, for the good of your soul, have hitherto marred your worldly joys.  Is it thus that you hope to win that crown of everlasting life which you have been taught to regard as the one thing worthy of a Christian’s struggles?  Is it not true that, since that wretched day on which you were taken away from me, you have allowed your mind to pass from thoughts of eternity to longings after vain joys in this bitter, fruitless vale of tears?  If that be so, can he who has so encouraged you