Sylvia's Lovers

'A dare say he did kill 'em dead; he's not one to do things by

halves. And a think he served 'em reet, that's what a do.' 'Is na' this Hester, as serves in Foster's shop?' asked Sylvia, in a

low voice, as a young woman came through a stile in the stone wall

by the roadside, and suddenly appeared before them.

'Yes,' said Philip. 'Why, Hester, where have you been?' he asked, as

they drew near.

Hester reddened a little, and then replied, in her slow, quiet way-'I've been sitting with Betsy Darley--her that is bed-ridden. It

were lonesome for her when the others were away at the burying.' And she made as though she would have passed; but Sylvia, all her

sympathies alive for the relations of the murdered man, wanted to

ask more questions, and put her hand on Hester's arm to detain her a

moment. Hester suddenly drew back a little, reddened still more, and

then replied fully and quietly to all Sylvia asked.

In the agricultural counties, and among the class to which these

four persons belonged, there is little analysis of motive or

comparison of characters and actions, even at this present day of

enlightenment. Sixty or seventy years ago there was still less. I do

not mean that amongst thoughtful and serious people there was not

much reading of such books as Mason on Self-Knowledge and Law's

Serious Call, or that there were not the experiences of the

Wesleyans, that were related at class-meeting for the edification of

the hearers. But, taken as a general ride, it may be said that few

knew what manner of men they were, compared to the numbers now who

are fully conscious of their virtues, qualities, failings, and

weaknesses, and who go about comparing others with themselves--not

in a spirit of Pharisaism and arrogance, but with a vivid

self-consciousness that more than anything else deprives characters

of freshness and originality.

To return to the party we left standing on the high-raised footway

that ran alongside of the bridle-road to Haytersbank. Sylvia had

leisure in her heart to think 'how good Hester is for sitting with

the poor bed-ridden sister of Darley!' without having a pang of

self-depreciation in the comparison of her own conduct with that she

was capable of so fully appreciating. She had gone to church for the

ends of vanity, and remained to the funeral for curiosity and the

pleasure of the excitement. In this way a modern young lady would

have condemned herself, and therefore lost the simple, purifying

pleasure of admiration of another.

Hester passed onwards, going down the hill towards the town. The

other three walked slowly on. All were silent for a few moments,

then Sylvia said-'How good she is!' And Philip replied with ready warmth,-'Yes, she is; no one knows how good but us, who live in the same

house wi' her.' 'Her mother is an old Quakeress, bean't she?' Molly inquired.