Dick, who was becoming somewhat restive under Mrs. Gresley’s inquiries about the Newhavens, became suddenly interested in the temperance meeting.
“I’ve seen many a good fellow go to the dogs through drink in the Colonies, more’s the pity,” Dick remarked. “I think I’ll come too, James. And if you want a few plain words you call on me.”
“I will,” said Mr. Gresley, much gratified. “I always make a point of encouraging the laity—at least, those among them who are thoroughly grounded in Church teaching—to express themselves. Hear both sides, that is what I always say. The Bishop constantly enjoins on his clergy to endeavor to elicit the lay opinion. The chair this evening will be taken by Mr. Pratt, a layman.”
The temperance meeting was to take place at seven o’clock, and possibly Rachel may have been biassed in favor of that entertainment by the hope of a quiet half-hour with Hester in her own room. At any rate, she secured it.
When they were alone Rachel produced Lady Newhaven’s note.
“Do come to Westhope,” she said. “While you are under this roof it seems almost impossible to see you, unless we are close to it,” and she touched the sloping ceiling with her hand. “And yet I came to Westhope, and I am going on to Wilderleigh, partly in order to be near you.”
Hester shook her head.
“The book is nearly finished,” she said, the low light from the attic window striking sideways on the small face with its tightly compressed lips.
A spirit indomitable, immortal, looked for a moment out of Hester’s gray eyes. The spirit was indeed willing, but the flesh was becoming weaker day by day.
“When it is finished,” she went on, “I will go anywhere and do anything, but stay here I must till it is done. Besides, I am not fit for society at present. I am covered with blue mould. Do you remember how that horrid Lady Carbury used to laugh at the country squires’ daughters for being provincial? I have gone a peg lower than being provincial—I have become parochial.”
A knock came at the door, and Fraeulein’s mild, musical face appeared in the aperture.
“I fear to disturb you,” she said, “but Regie say he cannot go to sleep till he see you.”
Hester introduced Fraeulein to Rachel, and slipped down-stairs to the night nursery.
Mary and Stella were already asleep in their high-barred cribs. The blind was down, and Hester could only just see the white figure of Regie sitting up in his night-gown. She sat down on the edge of the bed and took him in her arms.
“What is it; my treasure?”
“Auntie Hester, was I naughty about the flying half-penny?”
“No, darling. Why?”
“Because mother always says not to put pennies in my mouth, and I never did till to-day. And now Mary says I have been very naughty.”
“It does not matter what Mary says,” said Hester, with a withering glance towards the sleeping angel in the next crib, who was only Mary by day. “But you must never do it again, and you will tell mother all about it to-morrow.”