“I think we shall see by-and-by,” I said. “We must not make up our minds in a hurry. You have to find out what is really your duty.”
“My duty is to stay and take care of you all,” said Maimie half-defiantly.
“Churton may think he needs taking care of.”
“Aunt Marion!” she sighed, in a reproachful tone.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” I said. “I can’t bear to think of losing you; and if I followed my own feelings, the matter would be very easily settled. But there are questions of right and wrong.”
“Yes, I know,” she said.
“I think we must wait to see what is right. We must pray to be shown. There must be one step which is the right one to be taken. And it is of no use for us to ask to be shown which it is, unless we are willing to take it.”
“Whatever it is?” Maimie put in sadly.
“Yes, whatever it is. I know you long to stay, and I am sure we long to keep you. But your stepfather has some claim on you,—some right over you,—not so much as if you were really his own child, but still some. We must not forget that.”
“If only mother had never married him!” whispered Maimie. “But I shouldn’t have known you then.”