I could not see what particular bravery there was in it. It had just happened. The work had come to my hand, and I could not have turned away.
“I am so glad Mrs. Whitcomb is there;” began mamma thoughtfully. “It seems a special providence. She has so much wisdom and patience, she can look beyond the little to-day, to the great end. She does not show you how weak and miserable you are, but raises you up to her strength, lends it to you, as it were, until you have some of your own.”
Then we went our ways again a shade more grave, perhaps, but with a secret joy in our hearts over the “one sinner.” Just now we did not need to remember the ninety and nine just ones.
The next event was a letter from Mr. Ogden to papa. He expected to make a flying visit at the West Side, and would take great pleasure in calling.
He reached the village late Saturday afternoon, and came over in the evening. He and papa and Fan had a talk in the study, and then they spent an hour by themselves. Fan looked bright and funny when she came up stairs.
“Oh, you dear little grandmother;” she began, “how nice it is to have some one to confess to, when you feel foolish and half sentimental. If you want to laugh at me you can, there is no law in the Constitution to forbid it. I am not very far gone in love yet, but I expect to be some day. Meanwhile, let us be sensible.”
“I have not the slightest objection;” said I gayly.
“I will make my last will and testament while I am of sound mind, then. Or rather part of this is papa’s. We are not to be really engaged before Autumn, and in the meanwhile we are to find out on how many points we agree. But Mr. Ogden is in desperate earnest.”
“You do not seem to be.”
“I really don’t know what I am. I have been tumbled up and down in my mind and lost my mental equilibrium. But Rose, to think of Winthrop that very evening telling his Aunt Lucy! And I have been there time and again, never suspecting it. She has been very sweet to me.”