will have breakfast,' said Mrs. Bolton. After that there was
silence between them for some time.

A bond of discord, if the phrase may be allowed, is often quite as
strong as any bond coming from concord and agreement. There was to both
these women a subject of such paramount importance to each that none
other could furnish matter of natural conversation. The one was saying
to herself ever and always, 'He is my husband. Let the outside world say
what it may, he is my husband.' But the other was as constantly denying
to herself this assertion and saying, 'He is not her husband. Certainly
he is not her husband.' And as to the one the possession of that which
she claimed was all the world, and as to the other the idea of the
possession without true possession entailed upon her child pollution,
crime, and ignominy, it was impossible but that the mind of each should
be too full to admit of aught but forced expressions on other matters.
It was in vain for them to attempt to talk of the garden, the house, the
church, or of the old man's health. It was in vain even to attempt to
talk of the baby. There are people who, however full their hearts may
be, full of anger or full of joy, can keep the fulness in abeyance till
a chosen time for exhibiting it shall come. But neither of these two was
such a person. Every stiff plait in the elder woman's muslin and crape
declared her conviction that John Caldigate was not legally married to
her daughter. Every glance of Hester's eye, every motion made with her
hands, every little shake of her head, declared her purpose of fighting
for that one fact, whatever might be the odds against her.

When the banker came down to breakfast things were better for a little
time. The pouring out of his tea mitigated somewhat the starchiness of
his wife's severity, and Hester when cutting the loaf for him could seem
to take an interest in performing an old duty. He said not a word
against Caldigate; and when he went out, Hester, as had been her custom,
accompanied him to the gate. 'Of course you will be here when I come,'
he said.

'Oh yes; I do not go home till to-morrow.' Then she parted from him,
and spent the next hour or two up-stairs with her baby.

'May I come in?' said the mother, knocking at the door.

'Oh yes, mamma. Don't you think baby is very like his father?'

'I dare say. I do not know that I am good at tracing likenesses. He
certainly is like you.'

'So much more like his father!'