ter, who were in the barouche with her, till
the whole cavalcade stopped, just before reaching the farmhouse where
Mr Hope lay, and to which Mr Grey rode on to make inquiries. Margaret
was with Mr Rowland in his gig. It was a breathless three minutes till
Mr Grey brought the news. Margaret wondered how Hester was bearing it:
it would have pleased her to have known that Mrs Rowland was holding
forth so strenuously upon her disappointment about a dress at the last
Buckley ball, and about her children having had the measles on the only
occasion when Mr Rowland could have taken her to the races in the next
county, that Hester might sit in silence, and bear the suspense
unobserved. Mr Grey reappeared, quite as soon as he could be looked
for. There might have been worse news. Mr Hope was no longer in a
stupor: he was delirious. His medical attendants could not pronounce
any judgment upon the case further than that it was not hopeless. They
had known recovery in similar cases. As Mr Grey bore his report from
carriage to carriage, every one strove to speak cheerfully, and to make
the best of the case; and those who were not the most interested really
satisfied themselves with the truth that the tidings were better than
they might have been.

The damp upon the spirits of the party was most evident, when all had
descended from the carriages, and were collected in the woods. There
was a general tremor about accidents. If one of the gentlemen had gone
forward to explore, or the children had lagged behind for play, there
was a shouting, and a general stop, till the missing party appeared.
Miss Young would fain have declined her pony, which was duly in waiting
for her. It was only because she felt that no individual could well be
spared from the party that she mounted at all. Mr Hope was to have had
the charge of her; and though she had requested Sydney to take his
place, as far as was necessary, Mr Enderby insisted on doing so; a
circumstance which did not add to her satisfaction. She was not
altogether so heart-sick as her friends, the Ibbotsons; but even to her,
everything was weariness of spirit:--the landscape seemed dull; the
splendid dinner on the grass tiresome; the sunshine sickly; and even the
children, with their laughter and practical jokes, fatiguing and
troublesome. Even she could easily have spoken sharply to each and all
of the little ones. If she felt so, what must the day have been to
Hester? She bo