ow he
were one of a different kind to any thee ever knew, I reckon. If he
were led away by a pretty face to slight one as was fitter for him,
and who had loved him as the apple of her eye, it's him as is
suffering for it, inasmuch as he's a wanderer from his home, and an
outcast from wife and child.'

To the surprise of all, Molly's words of reply were cut short even
when they were on her lips, by Sylvia. Pale, fire-eyed, and excited,
with Philip's child on one arm, and the other stretched out, she
said,--

'Noane can tell--noane know. No one shall speak a judgment 'twixt
Philip and me. He acted cruel and wrong by me. But I've said my
words to him hissel', and I'm noane going to make any plaint to
others; only them as knows should judge. And it's not fitting, it's
not' (almost sobbing), 'to go on wi' talk like this afore me.'

The two--for Hester, who was aware that her presence had only been
desired by Sylvia as a check to an unpleasant _tete-a-tete_
conversation, had slipped back to her business as soon as her mother
came in--the two looked with surprise at Sylvia; her words, her
whole manner, belonged to a phase of her character which seldom came
uppermost, and which had not been perceived by either of them
before.

Alice Rose, though astonished, rather approved of Sylvia's speech;
it showed that she had more serious thought and feeling on the
subject than the old woman had given her credit for; her general
silence respecting her husband's disappearance had led Alice to
think that she was too childish to have received any deep impression
from the event. Molly Brunton gave vent to her opinion on Sylvia's
speech in the following words:--

'Hoighty-toighty! That tells tales, lass. If yo' treated steady
Philip to many such looks an' speeches as yo'n given us now, it's
easy t' see why he took hisself off. Why, Sylvia, I niver saw it in
yo' when yo' was a girl; yo're grown into a regular little vixen,
theere wheere yo' stand!'

Indeed she did look defiant, with the swift colour flushing her
cheeks to crimson on its return, and the fire in her eyes not yet
died away. But at Molly's jesting words she sank back into her usual
look and manner, only saying quietly,--

'It's for noane to say whether I'm vixen or not, as doesn't know th'
past things as is buried in my heart. But I cannot hold them as my
friends as go on talking on either my husband or me before my very
face. What he was, I know; and what I am, I reckon