Hester could not stand and listen to Catherine’s praises; but she was entirely absorbed in the narrative. It seemed terrible to her that she had not been there to be able to step in as Catherine had done. But there was another question pressing upon her which she had asked already, and to which she had got no reply. She shrank from repeating it yet felt a force upon her to do so. She fixed her large widely-opened eyes upon the speaker, so as to lose none of the indications of his face.
“Will you tell me,” she said, “how it was that you had, as you say, nobody to tell you anything—no one at the head—nobody to say what was to be done?”
Old Mr. Rule did not immediately reply. He made a little pause, and shuffled with his feet, looking down at them, not meeting her eyes.
“Hester,” said Ellen Merridew, who was passing, and paused on her partner’s arm to interfere, “why don’t you dance? What do you mean by not dancing? What are you doing here behind backs? I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“I prefer to be here,” Hester answered, shortly; “never mind me, please. Mr. Rule, will you answer me? I want to know.”
“You asked how it was that we—What was it you asked, Miss Hester? I am very glad to see you so interested: but you ought to be dancing, not talking to an old man, as Mrs. Merridew says.”
“I think you are all in a plot against me,” said Hester, impatiently; “why was it you were left without a head? What had happened? Mr. Rule,” cried the girl, “you know what I asked, and you know why I am so anxious. You are trying to put me off. What does it all mean?”
“It is an old story,” he said; “I cannot tell what tempted me to begin about it. It was seeing you and your mother for the first time. You were not at Miss Vernon’s party last year?”
“What has that to do with it?” cried Hester. “If you will not tell me, say so. I shall find out some other way.”
“My dear young lady, ask me anything. Don’t find out any other way. I will come and see you, if your mamma will permit me, and tell you everything about the old days. But I can’t keep you longer now. And, besides, it would need a great deal of explanation. I was foolish to begin about it here, keeping you out of your natural amusement. But I’ll come and tell you, Miss Hester, with pleasure,” said the old man, putting on a show of easy cordiality, “any day you will name.”
“Hester,” said another voice over her head, “Ellen says I am not to let you stay here. Come and see the supper-room. And the hall is very pretty. I am not to go without you, Ellen says.”
“Oh, what do I care for Ellen!” cried Hester, exasperated. “Go away, Harry; go and dance and amuse yourself. I don’t want you or anyone. Mr. Rule—”
But the old clerk had seized his opportunity. He had made a dart at someone else on the other side while Hester turned to reply to Harry’s demand. The girl found herself abandoned when she turned to him again. There had been a gradual shifting in the groups about while she stood absorbed listening to his story. She was standing now among people who were strange to her, and who looked at her curiously, knowing her to be “one of the family.” As she met their curious eyes, Hester, though she had a high courage, felt her heart fail her. She was glad to fall back upon her cousin’s support.
“I think you are all in a conspiracy against me,” she said; but she took Harry’s arm. He never abandoned her in any circumstances. Edward had not spoken to her, nor noticed her presence; but Harry never failed. In her excitement and disappointment she turned to him with a sense that here she could not go wrong. As for Harry, to whom she was seldom so complacent, he drew her arm within his own with a flush of pleasure.
“I know you don’t think much of me,” he said, “but surely I am as good as that old fellow!” a speech at which Hester could not but laugh. “I should like to know what he was saying to you,” Harry said.
“He was telling me about the run on the bank and how Catherine saved it. Do you know—I wonder—Had my father never anything to do with it?” Hester said.
They were making their way through the crowd at the end of the room. And Harry’s countenance was not expressive. Hester thought the stare in his eyes was directed to somebody behind who had pushed against her. She was not suspicious that Harry could hide from her any knowledge he possessed.
“That was ages before my time,” he said very steadily. “You might as well ask me about the flood;” and so led her on through the many groups about the door, entirely unsuspicious that he, too, for whom she had an affectionate contempt, had baulked her. She allowed him to take her over all the lighted rooms which opened into each other: the hall, the library, the room blazing with lights and decorations, which was prepared for supper. Hester had never been before at one of these great assemblies. And she could not keep herself entirely unmoved by the dazzling of the lights, the warmth and largeness of the entertainment. A sort of pride came upon her, surprising her in spite of herself: though she was so humble a member of the family, and subject under this roof to slights and scorns, yet she was a
