Hester quotes

Certainly she was not a fortunate woman. But she died, happily for her, before anything material happened to realise her alarms in respect to John.

It is astonishing how money grows when it is in the way of growing⁠—when it has got the genuine impulse and rolls every kindred atom near it, according to some occult law of attraction, into itself.

But just as wonderfully as money grows does it melt away when the other—the contrary process—has begun. John Vernon was quite right in saying that the bank justified, nay, almost demanded, a certain amount of expenditure from its chief partner.

Hester led her mother wherever she pleased, holding her arm embraced in her own two clasped hands.

It was her way of holding the helm.

She was a tall girl of fourteen when she came to the Heronry, outgrowing all her frocks, and all her previous knowledge, and thirsting to understand everything. She had never been in England before, though she prided herself on being an English girl.

When her visitor laughed again, Hester felt a flush of hot anger, like a flame, going over her.

To be ludicrous is the last thing a girl can bear: but even for that she would not give in.

“You are a capital guardian,” Catherine said, “but I assure you I am not an enemy. I shall have to call my maid Jennings, who has gone to the kitchen to see Betsey, before I go home, for I am not fond of walking alone.

She wanted to cry, to stamp with her feet, and clench her fists, and grind her teeth.

She was like a child in the unreasoning force of her passion, which was bitter shame as well.

She had behaved like a savage, like a fool, she knew, like a little silly, ill-tempered child. She ought to be whipped for her rudeness, and—oh, far worse!—she would be laughed at.

John. Though this was nearly half a century ago, it had still power to move her with that overwhelming sense of mortification.

There are things which no one ever forgets.

“When I heard of that woman coming home, I knew mischief would come of it,” Miss Vernon said.

The Miss Vernon-Ridgways looked out behind their curtains watching closely.

How fine it is to be young and rich and beautiful and on the top of the wave!

With what admiration all your dependents look upon you. Everyone in the Vernonry was breathless with excitement when Harry took the reins and the groom left the horses’ heads, and the phaeton wheeled round.

Cousin Ellen would arrange it for her. She was far too much excited and awed to be able to laugh at the mistake Cousin Ellen had made in her haste about buying a cours for Hester, not knowing in the least what it meant.

In this way with all sincerity the dazzled worshippers of greatness lose their perception of the ridiculous in the persons of those who have seized upon their imaginations.

Hester would have been revolted and angered had anyone noted this ludicrous particular in the conversation.

Morgan looked out after them from the window and saw the tall slim girl walking by the side of the stooping old man, with a pure delight that brought the tears to her eyes.

When you are over eighty it does not take much to make you cry.

Hester, who was the subject of continual assault in every other place, was adored and applauded in this little parlour, where they thought her more beautiful, and good, and clever, than ever girl had been before.

Thus they made a princess of Hester, and attributed to her every beautiful quality under the sun.

When a girl is not used to enthusiasm at home, it does her good to have somebody believe in her and admire all she is doing.

And this was what made her strong to bear all the jibes of the fine people, and even that detestable suggestion that she meant to curry favour with Catherine.

“Always!” said the old man with fervour, “and far happier because she does not find it out. My wife is the same.

It is such souls as these that keep the world steady.

We should all tumble to pieces if the race was made up of people like Catherine Vernon and you.”

But Hester had long ceased to form part of that sort of dual being which is so often made by a mother and her only daughter.

To feel your parent smaller and sillier than yourself is sad.

A great many young people do it without any adequate reason, strong in their sense of being the reigning monarchs of the present, while their progenitors belong to the past. Perhaps indeed it is the nature of youth to take a pleasure in such superiority.

She misunderstood her silly mother, far more than that silly mother did her.

The lesser comprehended the bigger, not the bigger the lesser, as in the ordinary course of affairs.

Mrs. John had a great many sacrifices to make, of which her daughter was quite unconscious. And tonight the poor lady felt it, as with her mind so full she sat down at her little solitary table, which she had made pretty for Hester.

John thought she must send for the girl, that she could not put up with the disappointment, but she was much more used to putting up with things, than to asserting herself. She sat down very cheerlessly and ate a mouthful of bread and salad.

To eat alone is always miserable.

Hester was making the table, where the old Morgans sat, very lively and cheerful, talking as she never talked with her mother. They sat and talked quite late into the night. What with the captain’s stories, and Mrs.

Sitting alone under a bush of whins, some chance touch of fancy made Hester think of her mother’s aspirations towards the White House, the ormolu set, and the portrait in short sleeves.

Thoughts arise sometimes in a curious dramatic order, to all appearance independent of the mind of the thinker, as if certain pictures were presented to it by some independent agency outside.

In this way there gleamed across the mind of Hester a sudden presentation of her mother in those same short sleeves, her pretty dark hair in two large bows on the top of her head, her feet in white satin shoes with sandals, like an …

“

Success in marriage means almost everything,

” the old lady said.

Who would have thought it?

There is nothing so astute as simplicity.

”

“By Jove!” said Harry again, “if a man is not to be vexed when he’s refused, I wonder what you think he’s made of?—not flesh and blood.”

“Sense,” said Hester, “and kindness. These are things you are made of, whether you are angry or not.”

She had risen up, and stood looking at him, as he turned round hastily and made for the door; but this flattery (if it was flattery) stopped him. He turned round again and stood looking at her, tantalised, provoked, soothed, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, Hester! what has happened? Have you accepted him?” said Mrs. John: “have you refused him? What has been going on? Now it is over, you might let me know.”

“I am just trying to think, mother,” Hester said.

Neither she nor anyone knew what it was with which, in the other part of their lives, these old people had been compelled to “put up.” Nor did the old lady say. She answered softly, “Yes, I think so too.

Peace is sweet, but it is not life.

”

“

It is curious what mistakes we all make,

” she said.

“

I have said already what mistakes we make, Catherine! often in our own career, always about other people, my dear.

”

“

Never is a long day,

” said the old lady, tranquilly. She was well used to waiting. In her experience, so many things had come to pass which no one expected.

Is that cynicism?” He gave her a look which would have no doubt had a great effect upon the heart of a younger woman, and which pleased Catherine, old as she was.

“I think it is true philosophy; but some of us have feelings that will not be laughed at,”

said Roland. He was accustomed to make great use of his fine eyes, and on this occasion he did so with the greatest effect. There could not have been more tender sympathy than was in them.

“

Home is a kind of irons,

” said Edward, “handcuffs, ankle chains. One is always like an unhappy cockatoo on a perch. Any little attempt at flight is always pulled back.”

“I should like,” he said, “if I broke down, to carry the whole concern along with me.

I should like to pull it down about their ears as Samson pulled the temple, you know, upon his persecutors.

”

They take a panic and you buy from them, to their certain loss, and then they take a freak of enthusiasm and you sell to them, to their certain loss. Somebody must always lose in order that you should gain.

It is a devilish trade

—I said so when I heard you had gone into it; but for God’s sake, Roland Ashton, keep that for the outside world, and don’t bring ruin and misery here.”

Mrs. John was at the age when we are very much ashamed of the afternoon nap, and she was well provided with semblances of occupation in case anyone should come. But Mrs. Morgan was far beyond any such simple deceit.

Eighty has vast advantages in this way.

When she felt disposed to doze a little she was quite pleased, almost proud of the achievement. She had indeed a book on the table with her spectacles carefully folded into it, but she did not require any occupation.

“I am late,” he said, “but this was worth waiting for.

Cinderella, where have you left your pumpkin coach?

”

“Would you rather have it in your power to insult me always?” said Hester. Her lip began to quiver a little.

What an odious thing it is to be a woman, to be always ready, when you would rather not, when you want to show yourself most strong and angry, to cry!

She clenched her hands tightly to keep herself down. “I am no cinder-wench, Mr. Edward Vernon,” she said. “I have given you no reason to call me so. It is a pitiful thing for a man to notice a girl’s dress.

“I know we were going the same way,” she said, “because there are not two ways, and you can see the town before you. I can’t see why we might not have walked together.

It is sinful to carry family tiffs so far,

” Emma said.

“

The pleasure of balancing on the point of a needle over the bottomless pit,

” she said. “If I were not very sure that you have too much sense to be drawn into anything of the kind, I should take fright, to hear you say even as much as that.

But Ashton meant business. It was not for this sort of trifling work that he had set himself to watch those fluctuations, which are more delicate than anything in nature they could be compared to.

The blowing of the winds and their changes were prose compared to the headlong poetry of the money-market.

Edward felt so many new pulses waking in him, such a hurrying fever in his veins, that he could not control himself.

and he always meant to declare himself some time, to reward her long suspense, and to make her the happiest of women. In words, this part is generally allotted to the lady, as it was in the days of chivalry.

But the nineteenth century has modified many things

, and if ever (out of America) it was really the woman who occupied the more commanding position, it is no longer so in the apprehension of the world. Only in this particular case, as has been seen, Edward was wrong.

“

Their value is sometimes the worst thing about them

,” said Catherine, feeling that there was a sternness of virtue in what she said which justified her dislike. But Mrs. John stood her ground.

She looked with a mild pride upon the group of her neighbours all so eagerly watching for mischief. It was natural, when you think of it, that she should treat the ill-nature of the Miss Vernon-Ridgways with gentle disdain.

Poor things! they had neither a daughter nor a necklace of pearls.

And as she had not been at the Thés Dansantes, nor seen Edward in any aspect but that he had always borne at the Grange, she felt no anxiety as to his present behaviour. Harry’s was the eye which she sought.

“I suppose there has been a quarrel,” the sisters said. “Ellen is a little minx; but still she is a true Vernon, and won’t stand any such airs as that girl gives herself. Her mother and she are insupportable, with their pearls and their pretences.”

“Roman pearls,” said Mr. Mildmay Vernon, “and Brummagem pretences.”

So they discussed the question. When Hester went in next day to Captain Morgan’s, not without a little curiosity to hear from Emma what had been said of her absence: “I am glad you have recovered,” Mrs.

But by and by she tired of standing, shut out from everybody, holding up her banner. She stole away from her mother’s side, behind the chairs, to get to somebody she knew and could talk to.

Flesh and blood cannot bear this sort of martyrdom of pride forever.

An old man was standing in her way, who made a little movement to stop Hester as she passed. “You will excuse an old friend, Miss Hester,” he said; “but I must tell you how glad I am to see you and your mother.

“

A thing does not become more true for being repeated,

” Edward said.

She was like a mother who is beginning to discover that she is of no particular consequence in the economy of her child’s life.

When you seize upon the office of parent without being called to it by God, you must accept the pains as well as the pleasures.

This new step in the severance between them hurt her more than she could have thought possible; the merest trifle! He might have forgotten; it might be fully accounted for—and, if not, what did it matter? It was nothing;

… of pushing homeward and hiding her sudden downfall within her own house where nobody could intrude upon her, had so triumphantly explained all that trouble away before she got home, that she entered the Grange radiant, with no sense of having a downfall to hide.

The casuistry of love is more skilful than any device of philosophy.

She explained everything to herself. She wondered that she had not read it in his face all the evening. She felt that it had been there, if she had only had eyes to see.

But is it just, is it good, do you think, that you should ask all that and tell me nothing? I am a woman, but I am not a fool. I can understand most things. Try me—tell me—I will set my mind to it.

Sympathy that is ignorant cannot be so good as sympathy that knows.

”

go and rest; at your age few can do without sleep. And Hester, go too, you can do no more.” It was not without a half contempt that she saw the overpowering of their young faculties by that which to her was nothing.

There are so many things in which youth has the best of it, that age has a right to its dolorous triumph when that comes.

She went down with Harry to the door to let him out, glad of the movement, and stood in the early light for a moment breathing in the fresh air.

She did not even extinguish the candles, but left them there amid all the disarray of the table, the scattered papers, covered with notes and figures.

The young can sleep, but not the old.

The romantic interest would be with Hester worn out with wretchedness and weariness; but the heavier burden was her own.