‘What does Robert think?’

’He has not told me.  I sent an immediate refusal by the telegraph wires, and have heard nothing since.’

‘Is he—­nervous about it?’

‘I hardly know.  It dwells in his mind, no doubt.’

‘Are you nervous?’

‘It dwells in my mind.  That is all.’

‘May I speak to him about it?’

’Why should you?  What good would it do?  I would rather you did not.  Nevertheless, if you feel frightened, if you think that there is anything wrong, it will be natural that you should go to him for assistance.  I will not forbid it.’  As he said this he stood back away from her.  It was but by a foot or two, but still there was a sign of separation which instantly made itself palpable to her.

‘Wrong, how wrong?’ she said, following him and clinging to him.  ’You do not suppose that I would go to him because I think you wrong?  Do you not know that whatever might come I should cling to you?  What is he to me compared to you?  No; I will never speak to him about it.’

He returned her caress with fervour, and stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead.  ’My dearest! my own! my darling!  But what I mean is that if some other man’s opinion on this subject is necessary to your comfort, you may go to him.’

’No other man’s opinion shall be necessary to me about anything.  I will not speak about it to Robert, or to any one.  But if more should come of it, you will tell me?’

’You shall know everything that comes.  I have never for a moment had the idea of keeping it back from you.  But because of baby, and because baby had to be born, I delayed it.’  This was an excuse which, as the mother of her child, she could not but accept with thankfulness.

‘I think I will ask him,’ she said that night, referring again to the vexed question of godfathers.  Uncle Babington had some weeks since very generously offered his services, and, of course, they had been generously accepted.  Among the baby’s relations he was the man of highest standing in the world; and then this was a mark of absolute forgiveness in reference to the wrongs of poor Julia.  And a long letter had been prepared to Mrs. Bolton, written by Hester’s own hand, not without much trouble, in which the baby’s grandmother was urged to take upon herself the duties of godmother.  All this had been discussed in the family, so that the nature of the petition was well known to Mrs. Bolton for some time before she received it.  Mrs. Daniel, who had consented to act in the event of a refusal from Puritan Grange, had more than once used her influence with her step-mother-in-law.  But no hint had as yet come to Folking as to what the answer might be.  It had also been suggested that Robert should be the other godfather,—­the proposal having been made to Mrs. Robert.  But there had come upon all the Boltons a feeling that Robert was indifferent perhaps, even unwilling to undertake the task.  And yet no one knew why.  Mrs. Robert herself did not know why.