ppose they will not come,' said she; 'they dunnot know me,
and mayn't believe my words.'

'They must,' said he, impatiently. 'They don't know what awaits
'em,' he continued. 'I'll tell thee, because thou 'll not let out,
and it seems as if I mun tell some one--it were such a shock--he's
to be tried for 's life. They know not it's so serious; and,
Hester,' said he, going on in his search after sympathy, 'she's
like as if she was bound up in her father.'

His lips quivered as he looked wistfully into Hester's face at these
words. No need to tell her who was _she_. No need to put into words
the fact, told plainer than words could have spoken it, that his
heart was bound up in Sylvia.

Hester's face, instead of responding to his look, contracted a
little, and, for the life of her, she could not have helped
saying,--

'Why don't yo' go yourself, Philip?'

'I can't, I can't,' said he, impatiently. 'I'd give the world to go,
for I might be able to comfort her; but there's lawyers to see, and
iver so much to do, and they've niver a man friend but me to do it
all. You'll tell her,' said Philip, insinuatingly, as if a fresh
thought had struck him, 'as how I would ha' come. I would fain ha'
come for 'em, myself, but I couldn't, because of th' lawyer,--mind
yo' say because of th' lawyer. I'd be loath for her to think I was
minding any business of my own at this time; and, whatever yo' do,
speak hopeful, and, for t' life of yo', don't speak of th' hanging,
it's likely it's a mistake o' Donkin's; and anyhow--there's t'
cart--anyhow I should perhaps not ha' telled thee, but it's a comfort
to make a clean breast to a friend at times. God bless thee, Hester. I
don't know what I should ha' done without thee,' said he, as he
wrapped her well up in the cart, and placed the bundles of cloaks
and things by her side.

Along the street, in the jolting cart, as long as Hester could see
the misty light streaming out of the shop door, so long was Philip
standing bareheaded in the rain looking after her. But she knew that
it was not her own poor self that attracted his lingering gaze. It
was the thought of the person she was bound to.

CHAPTER XXVI

A DREARY VIGIL

Through the dark rain, against the cold wind, shaken over the rough
stones, went Hester in the little tax-cart. Her heart kept rising
against her fate; the hot tears came unbidden to her eyes. But
rebellious heart was soothed, and hot tears were sent back to their