He put his arm over her and partly over my shoulder.
“I cannot let you go without an acknowledgement,” he began hurriedly. “I should like to tell you just how Louis came back. There was a manliness in his penitence that has given me a great deal of hope. Yet I know that he did not come out of actual love for me. If we ever could reach that state, but I must wait patiently. I have thought so little of him all these years, except to look after his personal comfort, that I must not complain if I reap weeds instead of flowers. You were brave and strong in your advice to him, and God above knows how deeply and sincerely I thank you. Your note to me was wisdom itself. Only—”
There was a peculiar wistfulness in his face that somehow gave him a little look of Louis.
“Only what?” If there was any fault to find let us have it out now.
“If you could have trusted me unreservedly. Do you think I am so very stern and rigid and unforgiving?”
“I was afraid you might—I did not know—” and I stopped, distressed and blushing.
“Will you have a little more faith in me?”
He uttered the words slowly.
“I know you desire to do what is best.”
He looked a trifle disappointed, I thought, but I went in with Edith and left him standing there.