But as I withdrew my hand from Harry's I remembered Saville's papers which were crushed together in my grasp; I started with an exclamation of pain when I saw them. Personal misfortune falling on her lover may do very well to awake into action the shy affections of a girl--but I could not bear to be supposed generous to my husband--I trembled lest he should think so; a violent heat and color came to my face--I shut my hand again with an instinct of concealment. Another time! another time would surely do--I dared not disturb our new-found happiness so soon. But Harry saw my sudden confusion, pain, and embarrassment. He took my hand again half anxiously, half playfully. "What are these?--what were you going to consult me about--must I not be your adviser now, Hester?" he said with a smile. I put them away out of my hand upon the table with momentary terror. "Not now," I said eagerly, "not now; I got them from your enemy, Saville, _that_ man--do not look at them now." His face darkened, his brow knit--once more, once more! it was such a look as women love to see upon the faces of their husbands, but it made him for the moment like my father as I had once fancied him before. "So!" he said, "he has fulfilled his threat--the miserable rascal! he thought to involve my wife in it. Hester, is it because of these papers that you have come to me to-day?" "Oh, no, no--do not think it!" I cried, anxiously. "I am not escaped long enough from my own delusions to have no fear of them; do not fancy it was any secondary motive--do not, Harry! I could not bear the life we were living; and whenever I really had to speak to you, all that was lying in my heart burst forth. It was so, indeed;--do not take up my sin where I leave it, Harry; do not suspect me--oh, we have had enough of that!" The tears were shining in his kind eyes I could see--he looked as he used to look in the brief charmed days before our marriage;--no, better than that--for through sorrow, and bitterness, and estrangement--strange lessons!--I knew him now, as then I had no chance to know him. "Do not fear, Hester," he said; "I am not afraid of your generosity. I told you long ago I could bear to be pitied--the only thing I could not bear was _justice_;--and so long as what you give me is not barely my 'rights,' I will permit you to be as generous as even _your_ nature can be. Now, Hester, at last may I speak of that long ago--that day when I came to Cottiswoode? and of the brave girl who brought me here, and her bit of briony? Not yet?--do you say not yet?"