 spirit.«
    »You would always live with me, father?« Esther spoke under a strong impulse
- partly affection, partly the need to grasp at some moral help. But she had no
sooner uttered the words than they raised a vision, showing, as by a flash of
lightning, the incongruity of that past which had created the sanctities and
affections of her life with that future which was coming to her. ... The little
rusty old minister, with the one luxury of his Sunday evening pipe, smoked up
the kitchen chimney, coming to live in the midst of grandeur ... but no! her
father, with the grandeur of his past sorrow and his long struggling labours,
forsaking his vocation, and vulgarly accepting an existence unsuited to him. ...
Esther's face flushed with the excitement of this vision and its reversed
interpretation, which five months ago she would have been incapable of seeing.
Her question to her father seemed like a mockery; she was ashamed. He answered
slowly -
    »Touch not that chord yet, child. I must learn to think of thy lot according
to the demands of Providence. We will rest a while from the subject; and I will
seek calmness in my ordinary duties.«
    The next morning nothing more was said. Mr Lyon was absorbed in his
sermon-making, for it was near the end of the week, and Esther was obliged to
attend to her pupils. Mrs Holt came by invitation with little Job to share their
dinner of roast-meat; and, after much of what the minister called unprofitable
discourse, she was quitting the house when she hastened back with an astonished
face, to tell Mr Lyon and Esther, who were already in wonder at crashing,
thundering sounds on the pavement, that there was a carriage stopping and
stamping at the entry into Malthouse Yard, with all sorts of fine liveries, and
a lady and gentleman inside. Mr Lyon and Esther looked at each other, both
having the same name in their minds.
    »If it's Mr Transome or somebody else as is great, Mr Lyon,« urged Mrs Holt,
»you'll remember my son, and say he's got a mother with a character they may
inquire into as much as they like. And never mind what Felix says, for he's so
masterful he'd stay in prison and be transported whether or no, only to have his
own way. For it's not to be thought but what the great people could get him off
if they would; and it's
