Caldigate had so far conquered his own feelings of
abasement as to be able to say this with a determined
face, looking straight into the attorney’s eyes,
at any rate without sign of fear.
‘It wants thinking about,’ said Robert
Bolton.
’To-morrow the baby is to be christened, and
for Hester’s sake I will endeavour to put this
matter aside;—but on Wednesday I must know.’
’On Wednesday morning I will answer your question.
But what if this man comes to me in the meantime?’
’Listen to him or speak to him, just as seems
good to you. You know everything that there is
to tell, and may therefore know whether he lies or
speaks the truth.’
Then Caldigate went to the inn, got his horse, and
rode back to Folking.
The Christening
The next day was the day of the christening.
Caldigate, on his return home from Cambridge, had
felt himself doomed to silence. He could not
now at this moment tell his wife that the man had come,—the
man who would doubtless work her such terrible misery.
She was very strong. She had gone through the
whole little event of her baby’s birth quite
as well as could be expected, and had been just what
all her friends might have wished her to be.
But that this blow had fallen upon her,—but
that these ill news had wounded her,—she
would now have been triumphant. Her mother was
at last coming to her. Her husband was all that
a husband should be. Her baby was, to her thinking,
sweeter, brighter, more satisfactory than any other
baby ever had been. But the first tidings had
been told to her. She had seen the letter signed
’Euphemia Caldigate’; and of course she
was ill at ease. Knowing how vexatious the matter
was to her husband, she had spoken of it but seldom,—having
asked but a question now and again when the matter
pressed itself too severely on her mind. He understood
it all, both her reticence and her sufferings.
Her sufferings must of course be increased. She
must know before long that Crinkett, and probably
the woman also, were in her neighbourhood. But
he could not tell her now when she was preparing her
baby for his ceremony in the church.
The bells were rung, and the baby was prepared, and
Mrs. Bolton came out to Folking according to her promise.
Though Robert was not there, many of the Boltons were
present, as was also Uncle Babington. He had come
over on the preceding evening, making on this occasion
his first journey to Folking since his wife’s
sister had died; and the old squire was there in very
good humour, though he excused himself from going to
the church by explaining that as he had no duty to
perform he would only be in the way amongst them all.
Daniel and Mrs. Bolton had also been at Folking that
night, and had then for the first time been brought
into contact with the Babington grandeur. The
party had been almost gay, the old squire having taken
