With her new insight into the man's character came to Hester the question whether she would not be justified in taking him into her confidence with regard to Cornelius. She had received no injunctions to secrecy from her father: neither he nor her mother ever thought of such a thing with her; they knew she was to be trusted as they were themselves to be trusted. Her father had taken no step towards any effort for the rescue of his son, and she would sorely need help in what she must herself try to do. She could say nothing to the major about lord Gartley, or the influence her brother's behaviour might have on her future: that would not be fair either to Gartley or to the major; but might she not ask him to help her to find Corney? She was certain he would be prudent and keep quiet whatever ought to be kept quiet; while on the other hand her father had spoken as if he would have nothing of it all concealed. She told him the whole story, hiding nothing that she knew. Hardly could she restrain her tears as she spoke, but she ended without having shed one. The major had said nothing, betrayed nothing, only listened intently. "My dear Hester," he said solemnly, after a few moments' pause, "the mysteries of creation are beyond me!" Hester thought the remark irrelevant, but waited. "It's such a mixture!" he went on. "There is your mother, the loveliest woman except yourself God ever made! Then comes Cornelius--a--well!--Then comes yourself! and then little Mark! a child--I will not say too good to live--God forbid!--but too good for any of the common uses of this world! I declare to you I am terrified when left alone with him, and keep wishing for somebody to come into the room!" "What about him terrifies you?" asked Hester, amused at the idea, in spite of the gnawing unrest at her heart. "To answer you," replied the major, "I must think a bit! Let me see! Let me see! Yes! it must be that! I am ashamed to confess it, but to a saint one must speak the truth: I believe in my heart it is simply fear lest I should find I must give up everything and do as I know he is thinking I ought." "And what is that?" "Turn a saint like him." "And why should you be afraid of that?" "Well, you see, I'm not the stuff that saints--good saints, I mean, are made of; and rather than not be a good one, if I once set about it, I would, saving your presence, be the devil himself." Hester laughed, yet with some self-accusation. "I think," she said softly, "one day you will be as good a saint as love can wish you to be."