lovers restored.

Hester thought this impossible. If Philip could be prejudiced against
Margaret by any man or woman on earth, or any devil in hell, there must
be an instability in his character to which Margaret's happiness must
not be committed. Hope was not sure of this. There were circumstances
of temptation, modes of delusion, under which the faith of a seraph
might sink. But worse still, Hester said, was his conduct of to-day,
torturing Margaret's affection, wounding her pride, insulting her
cruelly, in the presence of all those among whom she lived. Hope was
disposed to suspend his judgment even upon this. Enderby was evidently
half-frantic. His love was undiminished, it was clear. It was the soul
of all the madness of to-day. Margaret had conducted herself nobly.
Her innocence, her faith, must triumph at last. They might bring her
lover to her side again, Hester had little doubt: but she did not see
what could now render Philip worthy of Margaret. This had always been
her apprehension. How, after the passions of this day, could they ever
again be as they had been? And tears, as gentle and sorrowful as
Margaret had ever shed for her, now rained from Hester's eyes.

"Be comforted, my Hester--my generous wife, be comforted. You live for
us--you are our best blessing, my love, and we can never bear to see you
suffer for her. Be comforted, and wait. Trust that the retribution of
this will fall where it ought; and that will never be upon our Margaret.
Pray that the retribution may fall where it ought, and that its
bitterness may be intense as the joy which Margaret and you deserve."

"I never knew you so revengeful, Edward," said his wife, taking the hand
he held before his eyes. "Shall I admonish you for once? Shall I give
you a reproof for wishing woe to our enemies? Shall I remind you to
forgive--fully, freely, as you hope to be forgiven?"

"Yes, love; anything for the hope of being forgiven."

"Ah! how deep your sorrow for Margaret is! Grief always humbles us in
our own eyes. Such humiliation is the test of sorrow. Bless you, love,
that you grieve so for Margaret!"

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

THE NEXT DAY.

The hours of a sleepless night were not too long for Hope to revolve
what he must say and do on the morrow. He must meet Enderby; and the
day would probably decide Margaret's fate. That this decision would
implicate his own happiness or misery was a subordinate thought. It was
n