en in natural course. I neither repent it for you,
nor glory in it."

"That is just my view of it, Margaret. And it follows that the
consequences are to be taken as coming in natural course too. Does not
this again simplify the affair, Hester?"

"It lights it up," replied Hester. "It reminds me how all would have
been if you had acted otherwise than as you did. It is, to be sure,
scarcely possible to conceive of such a thing,--but if you had not
voted, I should have--not despised you in any degree,--but lost
confidence in you a little."

"That is a very mild way of putting it," said Hope, laughing.

"Thank Heaven, we are spared that!" exclaimed Margaret. "But, brother,
tell us the worst that you think can come of this displeasure against
you. I rather suspect, however, that we have suffered the worst
already, in discovering that people can be displeased with you."

"That being so extremely rare a lot in this world, and especially in the
world of a village," replied Hope, "I really do not know what to expect
as the last result of this affair, nor am I anxious to foresee. I never
liked the sort of attachment that most of my neighbours have testified
for me. It was to their honour in as far as it showed kindness of
heart, but it was unreasonable: so unreasonable that I imagine the
opposite feelings which are now succeeding may be just as much in
excess. Suppose it should be so, Hester?"

"Well, what then?" she asked, sighing.

"Suppose our neighbours should send me to Coventry, and my patients
should leave me so far as that we should not have enough to live on?"

"That would be persecution," cried Hester, brightening. "I could bear
persecution,--downright persecution."

"You could bear seeing your husband torn by lions in the amphitheatre,"
said Margaret, smiling, "but..."

"But a toss of Mrs Howell's head is unendurable," said Hope, with
solemnity.

Hester looked down, blushing like a chidden child.

"But about this persecution," said she. "What made you ask those
questions just now?"

"I find my neighbours more angry with me than I could have supposed
possible, my dear. I have been treated with great and growing rudeness
for some days. In a place like this, you know, offences seldom come
alone. If you do a thing which a village public does not approve, there
will be offence in whatever else you say and do for some time after.
And I suspect that is my case now. I may be mistaken, however; a