But she bore up bravely, and listened patiently to Esther’s story. How the widow’s heart was breaking, how the sons were despairing, and the daughters looking forward to begging their bread. How the sale approached—only five days more; and that thinking, and thinking day and night over the misery of it, Esther had at last fled to Violet for mercy—to Violet, who was ignorant of the whole matter. Fled on foot—for all their horses were seized—on that wild winter afternoon, facing the bitter wind, the snow, and the steep hills for ten long miles to World’s End. Fled to fling herself at Violet’s feet, and beg for mercy upon the widow and the fatherless children. The fatigue and her excitement had proved too much, and she had fainted at the very door. Esther dwelt much upon Mr Merton’s cruelty, for his insults had out her to the quick. Violet became very pale. She went to the door and called softly, “Aymer.” He came, and Esther attempted to dry her tears. Violet told him all, and took his hand. “This cannot be,” she said; “this surely must not be. I will do—we will do—as of a surety my father would have done. The innocent shall not suffer for the guilty. We, Aymer and I, will give up our claim. Tell them at your home to be comforted and to fear not.” Esther saw that her mission was accomplished, and the reaction set in. She became ill and feverish. Violet had her taken upstairs and waited upon her. Aymer was left alone. He walked to the window, opened the shutters, and looked forth. The scud flew over the sky, and the wan moon was now hidden, and now shone forth with a pale feeble light. The heart within him was very bitter. He did not repent the renunciation which he had confirmed; he felt that it was right and just. But it was a terrible blow. It cut away the very ground from beneath his feet. The poor fellow—he was poor Aymer again now—looked forward to the future. What could he do? The talents he possessed were useless, or nearly useless, in a pecuniary sense. Unable to earn sufficient to support himself, how could he marry Violet? The thought was maddening. To continue in the old, old life at Wick Farm without a prospect was impossible. To wander a beggar from door to door would be preferable. When he found that Violet could not leave Esther, he walked home to Wick Farm; over the wild and open Downs, and his heart went up in a great and bitter cry. The blow that had struck down poor Waldron had struck him down also. It is ever thus with evil. The circle widens, and no man knows where it will end. Yet he did not falter. Next day Violet wrote a curt letter to Mr Merton, requesting him to forbear proceedings, and upbraiding him for his cruelty. She desired that he would relinquish the charge of her affairs. Merton, had he so chosen, might have made a difficulty about this—under the will of Waldron—but he did not. He was, to say truth, glad of a pretext to wash his hands of a matter in which he had figured so ill.