ankless work thinking too much on one o'
God's creatures. But a'll do thy bidding,' he continued, in a
lighter and different tone. 'A'm a 'cute old badger when need be.
Come for thy watch in a couple o' days, and a'll tell yo' all as
a've learnt.'

So Hester went away, her heart beating with the promise of knowing
something about Philip,--how much, how little, in these first
moments, she dared not say even to herself. Some sailor newly landed
from distant seas might have become possessed of Philip's watch in
far-off latitudes; in which case, Philip would be dead. That might
be. She tried to think that this was the most probable way of
accounting for the watch. She could be certain as to the positive
identity of the watch--being in William Darley's possession. Again,
it might be that Philip himself was near at hand--was here in this
very place--starving, as too many were, for insufficiency of means
to buy the high-priced food. And then her heart burnt within her as
she thought of the succulent, comfortable meals which Sylvia
provided every day--nay, three times a day--for the household in the
market-place, at the head of which Philip ought to have been; but
his place knew him not. For Sylvia had inherited her mother's talent
for housekeeping, and on her, in Alice's decrepitude and Hester's
other occupations in the shop, devolved the cares of due provision
for the somewhat heterogeneous family.

And Sylvia! Hester groaned in heart over the remembrance of Sylvia's
words, 'I can niver forgive him the wrong he did to me,' that night
when Hester had come, and clung to her, making the sad, shameful
confession of her unreturned love.

What could ever bring these two together again? Could Hester
herself--ignorant of the strange mystery of Sylvia's heart, as those
who are guided solely by obedience to principle must ever be of the
clue to the actions of those who are led by the passionate ebb and
flow of impulse? Could Hester herself? Oh! how should she speak, how
should she act, if Philip were near--if Philip were sad and in
miserable estate? Her own misery at this contemplation of the case
was too great to bear; and she sought her usual refuge in the
thought of some text, some promise of Scripture, which should
strengthen her faith.

'With God all things are possible,' said she, repeating the words as
though to lull her anxiety to rest.

Yes; with God all things are possible. But ofttimes He does his work
with awful ins