She lay across a chair, her arms helplessly stretched out, her face
unseen. Every now and then a thrill ran through her body: she was
talking to herself all the time with incessant low incontinence of
words.
Philip stood near her, motionless: he did not know whether she was
conscious of his presence; in fact, he knew nothing but that he and
she were sundered for ever; he could only take in that one idea, and
it numbed all other thought.
Once more her baby cried for the comfort she alone could give.
She rose to her feet, but staggered when she tried to walk; her
glazed eyes fell upon Philip as he instinctively made a step to hold
her steady. No light came into her eyes any more than if she had
looked upon a perfect stranger; not even was there the contraction
of dislike. Some other figure filled her mind, and she saw him no
more than she saw the inanimate table. That way of looking at him
withered him up more than any sign of aversion would have done.
He watched her laboriously climb the stairs, and vanish out of
sight; and sat down with a sudden feeling of extreme bodily
weakness.
The door of communication between the parlour and the shop was
opened. That was the first event of which Philip took note; but
Phoebe had come in unawares to him, with the intention of removing
the breakfast things on her return from market, and seeing them
unused, and knowing that Sylvia had sate up all night with her
mother, she had gone back to the kitchen. Philip had neither seen
nor heard her.
Now Coulson came in, amazed at Hepburn's non-appearance in the shop.
'Why! Philip, what's ado? How ill yo' look, man!' exclaimed he,
thoroughly alarmed by Philip's ghastly appearance. 'What's the
matter?' 'I!' said Philip, slowly gathering his thoughts. 'Why should there
be anything the matter?' His instinct, quicker to act than his reason, made him shrink from
his misery being noticed, much more made any subject for explanation
or sympathy.
'There may be nothing the matter wi' thee,' said Coulson, 'but
thou's the look of a corpse on thy face. I was afeared something was
wrong, for it's half-past nine, and thee so punctual!' He almost guarded Philip into the shop, and kept furtively watching
him, and perplexing himself with Philip's odd, strange ways.
Hester, too, observed the heavy broken-down expression on Philip's
ashen face, and her heart ached for him; but after that first
glance, which told her so much, she avoided all appearance of
noticing or watching. Only a shadow brooded over her sweet, calm
face, and once or twice she sighed to herself.
It was market-day, and people came in and out, bringing their store
of gossip from the country, or the town--from the farm or the
quay-side.