ent it. Had he been far stronger than he was in his
own house, he could hardly have forbidden the mother to visit the
daughter. Hester had sent word to say that she did not wish to see even
her mother. But this had been immediately after the verdict, when she
was crushed and almost annihilated by her misery. Some weeks had now
passed by, and it could not be that she would refuse to admit the
visitor, when such a visitor knocked at her door. They had loved each
other as mothers and daughters do love when there is no rival in the
affection,--when each has no one else to love. There never had been a
more obedient child, or a more loving parent. Much, no doubt, had
happened since to estrange the daughter from the mother. A husband had
been given to her who was more to her than any parent,--as a husband
should be. And then there had been that terrible opposition, that
struggle, that battle in the hall. But the mother's love had never waned
because of that. She was sure that her child would not refuse to see
her.

So the fly was ordered to take her out to Folking, and on the morning
fixed she dressed herself in her blackest black. She always wore brown
or black,--brown being the colour suitable for the sober and sad
domesticities of her week-days, which on ceremonies and Sabbath was
changed for a more solemn black. But in her wardrobe there were two such
gowns, one of which was apparently blacker than the other, nearer to a
guise of widowhood,--more fit, at any rate, for general funereal
obsequies. There are women who seem always to be burying someone; and
Mrs. Bolton, as she went forth to visit her daughter, was fit to bury
any one short of her husband.

It was a hot day in August, and the fly travelled along the dusty road
very slowly. She had intended to reach Folking at twelve, so that her
interview might be over and that she might return without the need of
eating. There is always some idea of festivity connected with food eaten
at a friend's table, and she did not wish to be festive. She was, too,
most unwilling to partake of John Caldigate's bread. But she did not
reach the house till one, and when she knocked at the door Hester's
modest lunch was about to be put upon the table.

There was considerable confusion when the servant saw Mrs. Bolton
standing in the doorway. It was quite understood by everyone at Folking
that for the present there was to be no intercourse between the Boltons
and the Caldigates. It was und