She hardly understood when she was to see him; her weary heart and brain had only received one idea--that each step she was now taking was leading her to him.

Tired and exhausted with her quick walk up hill, battling all the way with wind and rain, she could hardly have held up another minute when they reached the tax-cart in the lane, and Hester had almost to lift her on to the front seat by the driver.

She covered and wrapped up the poor old woman, and afterwards placed herself in the straw at the back of the cart, packed up close by the shivering, weeping Sylvia.

Neither of them spoke a word at first; but Hester's tender conscience smote her for her silence before they had reached Monkshaven.

She wanted to say some kind word to Sylvia, and yet knew not how to begin.
Somehow, without knowing why, or reasoning upon it, she hit upon Philip's message as the best comfort in her power to give.