‘As for Sylvia Hepburn as was Sylvia Robson, she knows my mind,’ said Alice, in grim indignation.  ’She’s humbling herself now, I trust and pray, but she was light-minded and full of vanity when Philip married her, and it might ha’ been a lift towards her salvation in one way; but it pleased the Lord to work in a different way, and she mun wear her sackcloth and ashes in patience.  So I’ll say naught more about her.  But for him as is absent, as thee hast spoken on so lightly and reproachfully, I’d have thee to know he were one of a different kind to any thee ever knew, I reckon.  If he were led away by a pretty face to slight one as was fitter for him, and who had loved him as the apple of her eye, it’s him as is suffering for it, inasmuch as he’s a wanderer from his home, and an outcast from wife and child.’

To the surprise of all, Molly’s words of reply were cut short even when they were on her lips, by Sylvia.  Pale, fire-eyed, and excited, with Philip’s child on one arm, and the other stretched out, she said,—­

’Noane can tell—­noane know.  No one shall speak a judgment ’twixt Philip and me.  He acted cruel and wrong by me.  But I’ve said my words to him hissel’, and I’m noane going to make any plaint to others; only them as knows should judge.  And it’s not fitting, it’s not’ (almost sobbing), ‘to go on wi’ talk like this afore me.’

The two—­for Hester, who was aware that her presence had only been desired by Sylvia as a check to an unpleasant tete-a-tete conversation, had slipped back to her business as soon as her mother came in—­the two looked with surprise at Sylvia; her words, her whole manner, belonged to a phase of her character which seldom came uppermost, and which had not been perceived by either of them before.

Alice Rose, though astonished, rather approved of Sylvia’s speech; it showed that she had more serious thought and feeling on the subject than the old woman had given her credit for; her general silence respecting her husband’s disappearance had led Alice to think that she was too childish to have received any deep impression from the event.  Molly Brunton gave vent to her opinion on Sylvia’s speech in the following words:—­

‘Hoighty-toighty!  That tells tales, lass.  If yo’ treated steady Philip to many such looks an’ speeches as yo’n given us now, it’s easy t’ see why he took hisself off.  Why, Sylvia, I niver saw it in yo’ when yo’ was a girl; yo’re grown into a regular little vixen, theere wheere yo’ stand!’

Indeed she did look defiant, with the swift colour flushing her cheeks to crimson on its return, and the fire in her eyes not yet died away.  But at Molly’s jesting words she sank back into her usual look and manner, only saying quietly,—­

‘It’s for noane to say whether I’m vixen or not, as doesn’t know th’ past things as is buried in my heart.  But I cannot hold them as my friends as go on talking on either my husband or me before my very face.  What he was, I know; and what I am, I reckon he knows.  And now I’ll go hurry tea, for yo’ll be needing it, Molly!’