Sylvia's Lovers

Yet although Kester sent this message through Philip--although he

saw and recognized all that Philip was doing in their behalf, in the

behalf of Daniel Robson, the condemned felon, his honoured master--

he liked Hepburn not a whit better than he had done before all this

sorrow had come upon them.

Philip had, perhaps, shown a want of tact in his conduct to Kester.

Acute with passionate keenness in one direction, he had a sort of

dull straightforwardness in all others. For instance, he had

returned Kester the money which the latter had so gladly advanced

towards the expenses incurred in defending Daniel. Now the money

which Philip gave him back was part of an advance which Foster

Brothers had made on Philip's own account. Philip had thought that

it was hard on Kester to lose his savings in a hopeless cause, and

had made a point of repaying the old man; but Kester would far

rather have felt that the earnings of the sweat of his brow had gone

in the attempt to save his master's life than have had twice ten

times as many golden guineas.

Moreover, it seemed to take his action in lending his hoard out of

the sphere of love, and make it but a leaden common loan, when it

was Philip who brought him the sum, not Sylvia, into whose hands he

had given it.

With these feelings Kester felt his heart shut up as he saw the

long-watched-for two coming down the little path with a third

person; with Philip holding up the failing steps of poor Bell

Robson, as, loaded with her heavy mourning, and feeble from the

illness which had detained her in York ever since the day of her

husband's execution, she came faltering back to her desolate home.

Sylvia was also occupied in attending to her mother; one or twice,

when they paused a little, she and Philip spoke, in the familiar way

in which there is no coyness nor reserve. Kester caught up his

clogs, and went quickly out through the back-kitchen into the

farm-yard, not staying to greet them, as he had meant to do; and yet

it was dull-sighted of him not to have perceived that whatever might

be the relations between Philip and Sylvia, he was sure to have

accompanied them home; for, alas! he was the only male protector of

their blood remaining in the world. Poor Kester, who would fain have

taken that office upon himself, chose to esteem himself cast off,

and went heavily about the farmyard, knowing that he ought to go in

and bid such poor welcome as he had to offer, yet feeling too much

to like to show himself before Philip.

It was long, too, before any one had leisure to come and seek him.

Bell's mind had flashed up for a time, till the fatal day, only to

be reduced by her subsequent illness into complete and hopeless

childishness. It was all Philip and Sylvia could do to manage her in

the first excitement of returning home; her restless inquiry for him

who would never more be present in the familiar scene, her feverish

weariness and uneasiness, all required tender soothing and most

patient endurance of her refusals to be satisfied with what they

said or did.