e the unfortunate
one to her father and mother until the matter should have been set at
rest by the decision of a jury.

But the people,--especially the people of Utterden and Netherden,
and of Chesterton, and even of Cambridge,--were all on the side of
Caldigate and Hester as a married couple. They liked the persistency
with which he had claimed his wife, and applauded her to the echo for
her love and firmness. Of course the scene at Puritan Grange had been
much exaggerated. The two nights were prolonged to intervals varying
from a week to a fortnight. During that time she was said always to
have been at the window holding up her baby. And Mrs. Bolton was
accused of cruelties which she certainly had not committed. Some
details of the affair made their way into the metropolitan Press,--so
that the expected trial became one of those _causes celebres_ by which
the public is from time to time kept alive to the value and charm of
newspapers.

During all this John Caldigate was specially careful not to
seclude himself from public view, or to seem to be afraid of his
fellow-creatures. He was constantly in Cambridge, generally riding
thither on horseback, and on such occasions was always to be seen in
Trumpington Street and Trinity Street. Between him and the Boltons
there was, by tacit consent, no intercourse whatever after the
attempted imprisonment. He never showed himself at Robert Bolton's
office, nor when they met in the street did they speak to each other.
Indeed at this time no gentleman or lady held any intercourse with
Caldigate, except his father and Mr. Bromley the clergyman. The
Babingtons were strongly of opinion that he should have surrendered
the care of his wife; and Aunt Polly went so far as to write to him
when she first heard of the affair at Chesterton, recommending him
very strongly to leave her at the Grange. Then there was an angry
correspondence, ended at last by a request from Aunt Polly that there
might be no further intercourse between Babington and Folking till
after the trial.

Caldigate, though he bore all this with an assured face, with but
little outward sign of inward misgiving, suffered much,--much even from
the estrangement of those with whom he had hitherto been familiar. To
be 'cut' by any one was a pain to him. Not to be approved of, not to be
courted, not to stand well in the eyes of those around him, was to him
positive and immediate suffering. He was supported no doubt by the full