Then she told about the inspector, and the ingratitude these people had displayed towards the man who cared for them day by day.
But when she came to what she had heard of the poor woman’s past life, and still more when she told about the young girl, Mrs. Abel was so overcome that she had to ask the servant to bring some port-wine.
When the girl brought in the tray with the decanter, Mrs. Abel whispered to her: “Tell the dressmaker to wait.”
“And then, can you conceive it,” Mrs. Warden continued—“I scarcely know how to tell you”—and she whispered.
“What do you say! In one bed! All! Why, it’s revolting!” cried Mrs. Abel, clasping her hands.
“Yes, an hour ago I; too, could not have believed it possible,” answered Mrs. Warden, “But when you’ve been on the spot yourself, and seen with your own eyes—”
“Good heavens, Emily, how could you venture into such a place!”
“I am glad I did, and still more glad of the happy chance that brought the inspector on the scene just at the right time. For if it is ennobling to bring succor to the virtuous poor who live clean and frugal lives in their humble sphere, it would be unpardonable to help such people as these to gratify their vile proclivities.”
“Yes, you’re quite right, Emily! What I can’t understand is how people in a Christian community—people who have been baptized and confirmed—can sink into such a state! Have they not every day—or, at any rate, every Sunday—the opportunity of listening to powerful and impressive sermons? And Bibles, I am told, are to be had for an incredibly trifling sum.”
“Yes, and only to think,” added Mrs. Warden, “that not even the heathen, who are without all these blessings—that not even they have any excuse for evil-doing; for they have conscience to guide them.”