'To be sure he could; how far was it to go?' Philip hesitated before he replied-'Up the Knotting Lane, to the stile leading down to Haytersbank
Farm; they'll have to wait there for some as are coming.' 'They must not wait long such an evening as this; standing in such
rain and wind as there'll be up there, is enough to kill a horse.' 'They shan't wait long,' said Philip, decisively: 'in a quarter of
an hour, mind.' He now went back to the shop, beating against the storm, which was
increasing as the tide came in and the night hours approached.
Coulson had no word for him, but he looked reproachfully at his
partner for his long, unexplained absence. Hester was putting away
the ribbons and handkerchiefs, and bright-coloured things which had
been used to deck the window; for no more customers were likely to
come this night through the blustering weather to a shop dimly
lighted by two tallow candles and an inefficient oil-lamp. Philip
came up to her, and stood looking at her with unseeing eyes; but the
strange consciousness of his fixed stare made her uncomfortable, and
called the faint flush to her pale cheeks, and at length compelled
her, as it were, to speak, and break the spell of the silence. So,
curiously enough, all three spoke at once. Hester asked (without
looking at Philip)-'Yo're sadly wet, I'm feared?' Coulson said-'Thou might have a bit o' news to tell one after being on the gad
all afternoon.' Philip whispered to Hester-'Wilt come into t' parlour? I want a word wi' thee by oursel's.' Hester quietly finished rolling up the ribbon she had in her hands
when he spoke, and then followed him into the room behind the shop
before spoken of.
Philip set down on the table the candle which he had brought out of
the shop, and turning round to Hester, took her trembling hand into
both of his, and gripping it nervously, said-'Oh! Hester, thou must help me--thou will, will not thou?' Hester gulped down something that seemed to rise in her throat and
choke her, before she answered.
'Anything, thou knows, Philip.' 'Yes, yes, I know. Thou sees the matter is this: Daniel Robson--he
who married my aunt--is taken up for yon riot on Saturday night at
t' Mariners' Arms----' 'They spoke on it this afternoon; they said the warrant was out,'
said Hester, filling up the sentence as Philip hesitated, lost for
an instant in his own thoughts.
'Ay! the warrant is out, and he's in t' lock-up, and will be carried
to York Castle to-morrow morn; and I'm afeared it will go bad with
him; and they at Haytersbank is not prepared, and they must see him
again before he goes. Now, Hester, will thou go in a tax-cart as
will be here in less than ten minutes from t' George, and bring them
back here, and they must stay all night for to be ready to see him
to-morrow before he goes? It's dree weather for them, but they'll
not mind that.' He had used words as if he was making a request to Hester; but he
did not seem to await her answer, so sure was he that she would go.
She noticed this, and noticed also that the rain was spoken of in
reference to them, not to her. A cold shadow passed over her heart,
though it was nothing more than she already knew--that Sylvia was
the one centre of his thoughts and his love.