During the three weeks, however, that she was with Hester, she was very silent.  She clung to Hester without words, and with much less than her usual caressingness.  She found—­it was evident—­a certain comfort in solitary walks, in the simple talk of Mrs. Tyson, and ‘Father Time,’ who came to see her, and scolded her for her pale cheeks with a disrespectful vigour which brought actually a smile to her eyes.  Tommy was brought over to see her; and she sat beside him, while he lay on the floor drawing Hoons and Haggans, at a great rate, and brimful of fresh adventures in ‘Jupe.’  But he was soon conscious that his old playfellow was not the listener she had been; and he presently stole away with a wistful look at her.

One evening early in December, Hester coming in from marketing in Ambleside, found Nelly, sitting by the fire, a book open on her knee, so absorbed in thought that she had not heard her friend’s entrance.  Yet her lips seemed to be moving.  Hester came softly, and knelt down beside her.

‘Darling, I have been such a long time away!’

Nelly drew a deep breath.

‘Oh, no I—­I—­I’ve been thinking,’

Hester looked at the open book, and saw that it was ’The Letters of St. Ignatius’—­a cheap copy, belonging to a popular theological ‘Library,’ she herself had lately bought.

‘Did that interest you, Nelly?’ she asked, wondering.

’Some of it’—­said Nelly, flushing a little.  And after a moment’s hesitation, she pointed to a passage under her hand:—­’For I fear your love, lest it injure me, for it is easy to do what you will; but it is difficult for me to attain unto God, if ye insist on sparing me.’

And suddenly Hester remembered that before going out she had entreated Nelly to give herself another fortnight’s rest before going to Manchester.  It would then be only six weeks since her husband’s death.  ’And if you break down, dear,’—­she had ventured—­’it won’t only be trouble to you—­but to them ’—­meaning the hospital authorities.  Whereupon for the first time since her return, Nelly’s eyes had filled with tears.  But she made no reply, and Hester had gone away uneasy.

‘Why will you be so hard on yourself?’ she murmured, taking the lovely childish face in her two hands and kissing it.

Nelly gently released herself, and pointed again, mutely, to a passage further on—­the famous passage in which the saint, already in the ecstasy of martyrdom, appeals again to the Christian church in Rome, whether he is bound, not to save him from the wild beasts of the arena.  ’I entreat you, shew not unto me an unseasonable love!  Suffer me to be the food of wild beasts, through whom it is allowed me to attain unto God.  I am the corn of God; let me be ground by the teeth of the wild beasts, that I may be found the pure bread of Christ....  Pardon me in this.  I know what is expedient for me.  I am but now beginning to be a disciple.’