They had loved each other for years.
The strangest events had happened for the purpose of bringing them
together, and, fascinated against her will, Esther could not but listen.
But at the end of the chapter the racial instinct forced reproval from
her.
"I am sure it is wicked to read such tales."
Sarah looked at her in mute astonishment. Grover said--
"You shouldn't be here at all. Can't Mrs. Latch find nothing for you to do
in the scullery?"
"Then," said Sarah, awaking to a sense of the situation, "I suppose that
where you come from you were not so much as allowed to read a tale;
... dirty little chapel-going folk!"
The incident might have closed with this reproval had not Margaret
volunteered the information that Esther's box was full of books.
"I should like to see them books," said Sarah. "I'll be bound that they
are only prayer-books."
"I don't mind what you say to me, but you shall not insult my religion."
"Insult your religion! I said you never had read a book in your life
unless it was a prayer-book."
"We don't use prayer-books."
"Then what books have you read?"
Esther hesitated, her manner betrayed her, and, suspecting the truth,
Sarah said:
"I don't believe that you can read at all. Come, I'll bet you twopence
that you can't read the first five lines of my story.
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