ppropriate text, but such as it was
the words, 'From him that would ask of thee turn not thou away,'
seemed the only source of strength that could have enabled her to go
patiently through the next half-hour. As it was, she unselfishly
brought all her mind to bear upon the subject; admired this, thought
and decided upon that, as one by one Philip showed her all his
alterations and improvements. Never was such a quiet little bit of
unconscious and unrecognized heroism. She really ended by such a
conquest of self that she could absolutely sympathize with the proud
expectant lover, and had quenched all envy of the beloved, in
sympathy with the delight she imagined Sylvia must experience when
she discovered all these proofs of Philip's fond consideration and
care. But it was a great strain on the heart, that source of life;
and when Hester returned into the parlour, after her deliberate
survey of the house, she felt as weary and depressed in bodily
strength as if she had gone through an illness of many days. She
sate down on the nearest chair, and felt as though she never could
rise again. Philip, joyous and content, stood near her talking.

'And, Hester,' said he, 'Sylvie has given me a message for thee--she
says thou must be her bridesmaid--she'll have none other.'

'I cannot,' said Hester, with sudden sharpness.

'Oh, yes, but yo' must. It wouldn't be like my wedding if thou
wasn't there: why I've looked upon thee as a sister iver since I
came to lodge with thy mother.'

Hester shook her head. Did her duty require her not to turn away
from this asking, too? Philip saw her reluctance, and, by intuition
rather than reason, he knew that what she would not do for gaiety or
pleasure she would consent to, if by so doing she could render any
service to another. So he went on.

'Besides, Sylvie and me has planned to go for our wedding jaunt to
Robin Hood's Bay. I ha' been to engage a shandry this very morn,
before t' shop was opened; and there's no one to leave wi' my aunt.
Th' poor old body is sore crushed with sorrow; and is, as one may
say, childish at times; she's to come down here, that we may find
her when we come back at night; and there's niver a one she'll come
with so willing and so happy as with thee, Hester. Sylvie and me has
both said so.'

Hester looked up in his face with her grave honest eyes.

'I cannot go to church wi' thee, Philip; and thou must not ask me
any further. But I'll go betimes to Haytersban