a
vanity, a worldliness not to be spoken about, or even thought about.
Once or twice before the Robsons came into the neighbourhood, an
idea had crossed her mind that possibly the quiet, habitual way in
which she and Philip lived together, might drift them into matrimony
at some distant period; and she could not bear the humble advances
which Coulson, Philip's fellow-lodger, sometimes made. They seemed
to disgust her with him.

But after the Robsons settled at Haytersbank, Philip's evenings were
so often spent there that any unconscious hopes Hester might,
unawares, have entertained, died away. At first she had felt a pang
akin to jealousy when she heard of Sylvia, the little cousin, who
was passing out of childhood into womanhood. Once--early in those
days--she had ventured to ask Philip what Sylvia was like. Philip
had not warmed up at the question, and had given rather a dry
catalogue of her features, hair, and height, but Hester, almost to
her own surprise, persevered, and jerked out the final question.

'Is she pretty?'

Philip's sallow cheek grew deeper by two or three shades; but he
answered with a tone of indifference,--

'I believe some folks think her so.'

'But do you?' persevered Hester, in spite of her being aware that he
somehow disliked the question.

'There's no need for talking o' such things,' he answered, with
abrupt displeasure.

Hester silenced her curiosity from that time. But her heart was not
quite at ease, and she kept on wondering whether Philip thought his
little cousin pretty until she saw her and him together, on that
occasion of which we have spoken, when Sylvia came to the shop to
buy her new cloak; and after that Hester never wondered whether
Philip thought his cousin pretty or no, for she knew quite well.
Bell Robson had her own anxieties on the subject of her daughter's
increasing attractions. She apprehended the dangers consequent upon
certain facts, by a mental process more akin to intuition than
reason. She was uncomfortable, even while her motherly vanity was
flattered, at the admiration Sylvia received from the other sex.
This admiration was made evident to her mother in many ways. When
Sylvia was with her at market, it might have been thought that the
doctors had prescribed a diet of butter and eggs to all the men
under forty in Monkshaven. At first it seemed to Mrs. Robson but a
natural tribute to the superior merit of her farm produce; but by
degrees she perceived th