‘Sylvia, Sylvia,’ she murmured, ’some one has told you—­I thought no one knew—­it’s no sin—­it’s done away with now—­indeed it is—­it was long ago—­before yo’ were married; but I cannot forget.  It was a shame, perhaps, to have thought on it iver, when he niver thought o’ me; but I niver believed as any one could ha’ found it out.  I’m just fit to sink into t’ ground, what wi’ my sorrow and my shame.’

Hester was stopped by her own rising sobs, immediately she was in Sylvia’s arms.  Sylvia was sitting on the ground holding her, and soothing her with caresses and broken words.

‘I’m allays saying t’ wrong things,’ said she.  ’It seems as if I were all upset to-day; and indeed I am;’ she added, alluding to the news of Kinraid’s marriage she had yet to think upon.

‘But it wasn’t yo’, Hester:  it were nothing yo’ iver said, or did, or looked, for that matter.  It were yo’r mother as let it out.’

‘Oh, mother! mother!’ wailed out Hester; ’I niver thought as any one but God would ha’ known that I had iver for a day thought on his being more to me than a brother.’

Sylvia made no reply, only went on stroking Hester’s smooth brown hair, off which her cap had fallen.  Sylvia was thinking how strange life was, and how love seemed to go all at cross purposes; and was losing herself in bewilderment at the mystery of the world; she was almost startled when Hester rose up, and taking Sylvia’s hands in both of hers, and looking solemnly at her, said,—­

‘Sylvia, yo’ know what has been my trouble and my shame, and I’m sure yo’re sorry for me—­for I will humble myself to yo’, and own that for many months before yo’ were married, I felt my disappointment like a heavy burden laid on me by day and by night; but now I ask yo’, if yo’ve any pity for me for what I went through, or if yo’ve any love for me because of yo’r dead mother’s love for me, or because of any fellowship, or daily breadliness between us two,—­put the hard thoughts of Philip away from out yo’r heart; he may ha’ done yo’ wrong, anyway yo’ think that he has; I niver knew him aught but kind and good; but if he comes back from wheriver in th’ wide world he’s gone to (and there’s not a night but I pray God to keep him, and send him safe back), yo’ put away the memory of past injury, and forgive it all, and be, what yo’ can be, Sylvia, if you’ve a mind to, just the kind, good wife he ought to have.’

‘I cannot; yo’ know nothing about it, Hester.’

‘Tell me, then,’ pleaded Hester.

‘No!’ said Sylvia, after a moment’s hesitation; ’I’d do a deal for yo’, I would, but I daren’t forgive Philip, even if I could; I took a great oath again’ him.  Ay, yo’ may look shocked at me, but it’s him as yo’ ought for to be shocked at if yo’ knew all.  I said I’d niver forgive him; I shall keep to my word.’

‘I think I’d better pray for his death, then,’ said Hester, hopelessly, and almost bitterly, loosing her hold of Sylvia’s hands.