I can hardly tell what I say, much less why I say it.

Mother is so patient, it puts me past mysel', for I could fight wi' t' very walls, I'm so mad wi' grieving.

Sure, they'll let him come back wi' us to-morrow, when they hear from his own sel' why he did it ?' She looked eagerly at Hester for an answer to this last question, which she had put in a soft, entreating tone, as if with Hester herself the decision rested.

Hester shook her head.

Sylvia came up to her and took her hands, almost fondling them.
'Yo' dunnot think they'll be hard wi' him when they hear all about it, done yo'?
Why, York Castle's t' place they send a' t' thieves and robbers to, not honest men like feyther.' Hester put her hand on Sylvia's shoulder with a soft, caressing gesture.
'Philip will know,' she said, using Philip's name as a kind of spell--it would have been so to her.