he ice yesterday."

"Margaret, how dare you say anything so wicked?"

"If it be wicked, God forgive me! I was wretched enough before--I would
fain have never come to life again: and now you almost make me believe
that you would have been best pleased if I never had."

At this moment Hope entered. He had left them in a far different mood:
it made him breathless to see his wife's face of passion, and Margaret's
of woe.

"Hear her!" exclaimed Hester. "She says I should have been glad to have
lost her yesterday!"

"Have mercy upon me!" cried Margaret, in excessive agitation. "You
oppress me beyond what I can bear. I cannot bear on as I used to do.
My strength is gone, and you give me none. You take away what I had!"

"Will you hear me spoken to in this way?" cried Hester, turning to her
husband.

"I will."

Margaret's emotion prevented her hearing this, or caring who was by.
She went on--"You leave me nothing--nothing but yourself--and you abuse
my love for you. You warn me against love--against marriage--you chill
my very soul with terror at it. I have found a friend in Maria; and you
poison my comfort in my friendship, and insult my friend. There is not
an infant in a neighbour's house but you become jealous of it the moment
I take it in my arms. There is not a flower in your garden, not a book
on my table, that you will let me love in peace. How ungenerous--while
you have one to cherish and who cherishes you, that you will have me
lonely!--that you quarrel with all who show regard to me!--that you
refuse me the least solace, when my heart is breaking with its
loneliness! Oh, it is cruel!"

"Will you hear this, Edward?"

"I will, because it is the truth. For once, Hester, you must hear
another's mind; you have often told your own."

"God knows why I was saved yesterday," murmured Margaret; "for a more
desolate creature does not breathe."

Hope leaned against the wall. Hester relieved her torment of mind with
reproaches of Margaret.

"You do not trust me," she cried; "it is you who make me miserable. You
go to others for the comfort you ought to seek in me. You place that
confidence in others which ought to be mine alone. You are cheered when
you learn that the commonest gossips in Deerbrook care about you, and
you set no value on your own sister's feelings for you. You have faith
and charity for people out of doors, and mistrust and misconstruction
for those at home. I am the injured on