Hester was away, or, of course, this would never have happened.
She had gone for a month's visit to distant friends.
In that month I lived a lifetime. Hugh Blair courted me as the
other girls in Newbridge were courted. He took me out driving
and came to see me in the evenings, which we spent for the most
part in the garden. I did not like the stately gloom and
formality of our old Meredith parlor, and Hugh never seemed to
feel at ease there. His broad shoulders and hearty laughter were
oddly out of place among our faded, old-maidish furnishings.
Mary Sloane was very much pleased at Hugh's visit. She had
always resented the fact that I had never had a "beau," seeming
to think it reflected some slight or disparagement upon me. She
did all she could to encourage him.
But when Hester returned and found out about Hugh she was very
angry--and grieved, which hurt me far more. She told me that I
had forgotten myself and that Hugh's visits must cease.
I had never been afraid of Hester before, but I was afraid of her
then. I yielded. Perhaps it was very weak of me, but then I was
always weak. I think that was why Hugh's strength had appealed
so to me. I needed love and protection. Hester, strong and
self-sufficient, had never felt such a need. She could not
understand. Oh, how contemptuous she was.
I told Hugh timidly that Hester did not approve of our friendship
and that it must end.
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