air of deep anxiety, that he trusted Mr
Hope had better success with his patients than he could boast of. The
disease was most terrific: and the saving of a life was a chance now
seemingly too rare to be reckoned on. It really required more strength
than most men had to stand by their duty at such a time, when they could
do little more than see their patients die. Hester thought him so much
moved, that he was at this moment hardly fit for business. She said:

"We all have need of all our strength. I do not know whether worship
gives it to you as it does to me. Will it not be an hour, or even half
an hour, well spent, if you go with me there?" pointing to the church.
"You will say you are wanted elsewhere; but will you not be stronger and
calmer for the comfort you may find there?"

"I should like it... I have always been in the habit of going to
church... It would do me good, I know. But, Mrs Hope, how is this? I
thought you had been a dissenter. I always said so. I have been very
wrong--very ill-natured."

"I am a dissenter," said Hester, smiling, "but you are not; and
therefore I may urge you to go to church. As for the rest of the
mystery, I will explain it when we have more time. Meanwhile, I hope
you do not suppose that dissenters do not worship and need and love
worship as other people do!"

Mr Walcot replied by timidly offering his arm, which Hester accepted,
and they entered the church together.

The Rowlands were already in their pew. There was a general commotion
among the children when they saw Mrs Hope and Mr Walcot walking up the
aisle arm-in-arm. Matilda called her mother's attention to the
remarkable fact, and the little heads all whispered together. The
church looked really almost empty. There were no Hunters, with their
train of servants: there were no Levitts. The Miss Andersons had not
entered Deerbrook for weeks; and Maria Young sat alone in the large
double pew commonly occupied by her scholars. There was a sprinkling of
poor; but Hester observed that every one in the church was in mourning
but Maria and herself. It looked sadly chill and dreary. The sights
and sounds she had met, and the aspect of the place she was in, disposed
her to welcome every thought of comfort that the voice of the preacher
could convey.

There were others to whom consolation appeared even more necessary than
to herself. Philip Enderby had certainly seen her, and was distressed
at it. He could