“Yes,” this time almost harshly. “I understand. She is pretty and bright, and good—but I wish it were you instead. I thought you liked him. You used to take his part. Oh, Rose, if you were to be there I believe I should go. If you were my sister you might save me. You are so sweet, so patient; you know so many tender ways.”
“Why, I should be your sister then,” I said, trembling in shame and confusion, for what, I hardly knew.
“You are so different from most people. I think Stephen would be gentler with you—”
“Hush, he knows best. Come home with me and talk to papa. What have you been doing all this while?”
“Earning my living for a change,” and he laughed bitterly. “I can go West. Not that I mean to relinquish my fortune, but since I have disgraced them all—”
“No, no;” I rejoined firmly. “You must not go.”
“What then?”
“Return to Stephen directly. Redeem the past with a brave, true, upright manhood. You can do it. I do not believe you will ever be tempted in that way again.”
“You are right there. If you could know how I have governed myself during the past two months. I feel as if half my temper was gone,—since that awful night. But to go back—to humble myself to him—”
“Have you not hurt his pride cruelly?” I said.