The last clause of this speech was meant to make peace; but Molly was in twenty minds as to whether she should accept the olive-branch or not.  Her temper, however, was of that obtuse kind which is not easily ruffled; her mind, stagnant in itself, enjoyed excitement from without; and her appetite was invariably good, so she stayed, in spite of the inevitable tete-a-tete with Alice.  The latter, however, refused to be drawn into conversation again; replying to Mrs. Brunton’s speeches with a curt yes or no, when, indeed, she replied at all.

When all were gathered at tea, Sylvia was quite calm again; rather paler than usual, and very attentive and subduced in her behaviour to Alice; she would evidently fain have been silent, but as Molly was her own especial guest, that could not be, so all her endeavours went towards steering the conversation away from any awkward points.  But each of the four, let alone little Bella, was thankful when the market-cart drew up at the shop door, that was to take Mrs. Brunton back to her sister’s house.

When she was fairly off, Alice Rose opened her mouth in strong condemnation; winding up with—­

’And if aught in my words gave thee cause for offence, Sylvia, it was because my heart rose within me at the kind of talk thee and she had been having about Philip; and her evil and light-minded counsel to thee about waiting seven years, and then wedding another.’

Hard as these words may seem when repeated, there was something of a nearer approach to an apology in Mrs. Rose’s manner than Sylvia had ever seen in it before.  She was silent for a few moments, then she said,—­

‘I ha’ often thought of telling yo’ and Hester, special-like, when yo’ve been so kind to my little Bella, that Philip an’ me could niver come together again; no, not if he came home this very night——­’

She would have gone on speaking, but Hester interrupted her with a low cry of dismay.

Alice said,—­

‘Hush thee, Hester.  It’s no business o’ thine.  Sylvia Hepburn, thou’rt speaking like a silly child.’

’No.  I’m speaking like a woman; like a woman as finds out she’s been cheated by men as she trusted, and as has no help for it.  I’m noane going to say any more about it.  It’s me as has been wronged, and as has to bear it:  only I thought I’d tell yo’ both this much, that yo’ might know somewhat why he went away, and how I said my last word about it.’

So indeed it seemed.  To all questions and remonstrances from Alice, Sylvia turned a deaf ear.  She averted her face from Hester’s sad, wistful looks; only when they were parting for the night, at the top of the little staircase, she turned, and putting her arms round Hester’s neck she laid her head on her neck, and whispered,—­

‘Poor Hester—­poor, poor Hester! if yo’ an’ he had but been married together, what a deal o’ sorrow would ha’ been spared to us all!’

Hester pushed her away as she finished these words; looked searchingly into her face, her eyes, and then followed Sylvia into her room, where Bella lay sleeping, shut the door, and almost knelt down at Sylvia’s feet, clasping her, and hiding her face in the folds of the other’s gown.