She would fain have made attendance on her mother an excuse; but Philip knew he must not listen to any such plea, and applied to Hester in the dilemma, asking her to remain with Mrs. Robson while he and Sylvia went out visiting; and Hester had willingly, nay, eagerly consented—­it was much more to her taste than going out.

So Philip and Sylvia set out, arm-in-arm, down Bridge Street, across the bridge, and then clambered up the hill.  On the way he gave her the directions she asked for about her behaviour as bride and most honoured guest; and altogether succeeded, against his intention and will, in frightening her so completely as to the grandeur and importance of the occasion, and the necessity of remembering certain set rules, and making certain set speeches and attending to them when the right time came, that, if any one so naturally graceful could have been awkward, Sylvia would have been so that night.

As it was, she sate, pale and weary-looking, on the very edge of her chair; she uttered the formal words which Philip had told her were appropriate to the occasion, and she heartily wished herself safe at home and in bed.  Yet she left but one unanimous impression on the company when she went away, namely, that she was the prettiest and best-behaved woman they had ever seen, and that Philip Hepburn had done well in choosing her, felon’s daughter though she might be.

Both the hosts had followed her into the lobby to help Philip in cloaking her, and putting on her pattens.  They were full of old-fashioned compliments and good wishes; one speech of theirs came up to her memory in future years:—­

‘Now, Sylvia Hepburn,’ said Jeremiah, ’I’ve known thy husband long, and I don’t say but what thou hast done well in choosing him; but if he ever neglects or ill-uses thee, come to me, and I’ll give him a sound lecture on his conduct.  Mind, I’m thy friend from this day forrards, and ready to take thy part against him!’

Philip smiled as if the day would never come when he should neglect or ill-use his darling; Sylvia smiled a little, without much attending to, or caring for, the words that were detaining her, tired as she was; John and Jeremiah chuckled over the joke; but the words came up again in after days, as words idly spoken sometimes do.

Before the end of that first year, Philip had learnt to be jealous of his wife’s new love for Hester.  To the latter, Sylvia gave the free confidence on many things which Philip fancied she withheld from him.  A suspicion crossed his mind, from time to time, that Sylvia might speak of her former lover to Hester.  It would be not unnatural, he thought, if she did so, believing him to be dead; but the idea irritated him.