might have struck his horse: but he really knew no more of the affair than any one else. The ladies all trusted he would not ride the same horse again; but this he would not promise: his horse was an old friend; and he was not in a hurry to part with old friends. He was glad to find that Miss Young had not laid the blame on the pony, but had ridden it through the woods as if nothing had happened.
“Not exactly so,” said Margaret, smiling.
“The young folks did not enjoy their excursion very much, I fancy,” said Mrs. Grey, smiling also. “Mrs. Rowland was quite put out, poor soul! You know she thinks everything goes wrong, on purpose to plague her.”
“I think she had some higher feelings on that occasion,” said Mr. Hope, gently, but gravely. “I am indebted to her for a very anxious concern on my account, and for kind offices in which perhaps none of my many generous friends have surpassed her.”
Mrs. Grey, somewhat abashed, said that Mrs. Rowland had some good qualities: it was only a pity that her unhappy temper did not allow them fair play.
“It is a pity,” observed Mr. Hope; “and it is at the same time, an appeal to us to allow her the fair play she does not afford herself. That sofa looks delightfully comfortable, Mrs. Grey.”
“Oh, you are tired; you are faint, perhaps?”
“Shall I ring?” said Hester, moving to the bell.
“No, no,” said he, laughing; “I am very well at present. I only mean that I should like to stay all day, if you will let me. I am sure that sofa is full as comfortable as my own. I may stay, may I not?”
“No, indeed you shall not, this first day. If you will go away now before you are tired, and if I find when I look in upon you this evening, that you are not the worse for this feat, you shall stay longer to-morrow. But I assure you it is time you were at home now. My dears, just see whether the gig is at the door.”
“So I only get sent away by begging to stay,” said Mr. Hope. “Well, I have been giving orders to sick people for so many years, that I suppose it is fairly my turn to obey now. May I ask you to send to Widow Rye’s to-day? I looked in as I came; and her child is in want of better food, better cooked, than she is able to give him.”
“I will send him a dinner from our table. You are not going to see any more patients to-day, I hope?”
“Only two that lie quite in my road. If you send me away, you must take the consequences. Farewell, till tomorrow.”
“Mr. Grey and I shall look in upon you this evening. Now do not look about you out of doors, to catch anybody’s eye, or you will be visiting a dozen patients between this house and your own.”
There were, indeed, many people standing about, within sight of Mr. Grey’s door, to see Mr. Hope come out. All Mr. Grey’s children and servants were peeping through the shrubbery. Mrs. Enderby waved her hand from a lower, and her two maids looked out from an upper window. The old man of a hundred years, who was sunning himself on the bank, as usual, rose and took off his hat: and the little Reeves and their schoolfellows stood whispering to one another that Mr. Hope looked rarely bad still. Mrs. Plumstead dropped a low curtsey, as she stood taking in the letter-bag, at her distant door. Mrs. Grey observed to Hester on the respect which was paid to Mr. Hope all through the place, as if Hester was not feeling it in her heart of hearts at the moment.
Mrs. Grey flattered herself that Mr. Hope was thinking of Hester when he said his friends did not look well. She had been growing thinner and paler for the last month, and no doubt remained in Mrs. Grey’s mind about the cause. Hester had commanded herself, to her sister’s admiration; but she could not command her health, and that was giving way under perpetual feelings of anxiety and humiliation. Mrs. Grey thought all this had gone quite far enough. She was more fond and proud of Hester every day, and more impatient that she should be happy, the more she watched her. She spoke to Margaret about her. Margaret was prepared for this, having foreseen its probability; and her answers, while perfectly true and sincere, were so guarded, that Mrs. Grey drew from them the comfortable inference that she alone penetrated the matter, and understood Hester’s state of mind. She came to the resolution at last of making the young people happy a little sooner than they could have managed the affair for themselves. She would help them to an understanding, but it should be with all possible delicacy and regard to their feelings. Not even Mr. Grey should know what she was about.
Opportunities were not wanting. When are opportunities wanting to match-makers? If such do not find means of carrying their points, they can construct them. Few match-makers go to work so innocently and securely as Mrs. Grey; for few can be so certain of the inclinations of the parties as she believed herself. Her own admiration of Hester was so exclusive, and the superiority of Hester’s beauty so unquestionable, that it never occurred to her that the attraction which drew Mr. Hope to the house could be any other than this. About the state of Hester’s affections she felt justly confident; and so, in her view, nothing remained to be done but to save her from further pining by bringing about an explanation. She was frequently with Mr. Hope at his lodgings, during his recovery, seeing that he took his afternoon rest, and beguiling a part of his evenings; in short, watching over him as over a son, and declaring to Hester that he was no less dear to her.
One evening, when she was spending an hour in Mr. Hope’s parlour, where Mr. Grey had deposited her till nine o’clock, when he was to call for her, she made the same affectionate declaration to Mr. Hope himself—that he was as dear to her as if he had been her own son; “and,” she continued, “I shall speak to you with the same freedom as I should use with Sydney, and may, perhaps, ten years hence.”
“Pray do,” said Mr. Hope. “I shall be glad to hear anything you have to say. Are you going to find fault with me?”
“Oh dear, no! What fault should I have to find with you? unless, indeed, it be a fault or a folly to leave your own happiness and that of another person in needless uncertainty.”
Mr. Hope changed colour, quite to the extent of her wishes.
“I know,” continued she, “that your illness has put a stop to everything; and that it has left you little nerve for any explanation of the kind: but you are growing stronger every day now, and the case is becoming so serious on the other side that I own I dread the consequences of much further delay. You see I speak openly.”
She had every encouragement to do so, for Mr. Hope’s countenance was flushed with what appeared to her to be delight. “You observed, yourself, you know, that Hester did not look well; and indeed the few weeks after your accident were so trying to her—the exertions she made to conceal her feelings were so—. But I must spare her delicacy. I trust you are quite assured that she has not the most remote idea of my speaking to you thus. Indeed, no human being is in the least aware of it.”
“Hester! Miss Ibbotson! Pray, Mrs. Grey, do not say another word. Let us talk of something else.”
“Presently; when I have finished. You must have seen that I love this dear girl as a daughter; and there is not a thought of her heart that she can conceal from me, though her delicacy is so great that I am confident she thinks me unaware of her state of mind at this moment. But I saw how the affair was going from the very beginning; and the failure of her health and looks since your accident have left me no doubt whatever, and have made me feel it my duty to give you the encouragement your modesty requires, and to confide to you how wholly her happiness lies in your hands.”
“Hester! Miss Ibbotson! I assure you, Mrs. Grey, you must be completely mistaken.”
“I beg your pardon: I am not so easily
