"Where else should a woman go in trouble but to her mother? When her heart is breaking, then she knows that the nest of all nests is her mother's breast."
John wanted to tell her that God and a loving husband might and surely would help her, but when she raised her lovely, sad eyes brimming with tears and he saw how white and full of suffering her face was, he could not find in his heart to dispute her words. For he suffered in seeing her suffer far more than she could understand.
At her own room door he left her and his heart was so heavy he could not go to the mill. He could not think of gold and cotton while there was such an abyss between him and his wife. Truly she had wronged and wounded him in an intolerable manner, but his great love could look beyond the wrong to her repentance and to his forgiveness.
Walking restlessly about his room or lost in sorrowful broodings an hour passed, and then he began to tell himself that he must not for the indulgence of even his great grief desert his lawful work. If things went wrong at the mill, because of his ab
sence, and gain was lost for his delay, he would be wronging many more than John Hatton. Come what might to him personally, he was bound by his father's, as well as his own, promise to be "diligent in business, serving the Lord." That was the main article of Hatton's contract with the God they served—the poor, the sick, the little children whom no one loved, he could not wrong them because he was in trouble with his wife.
Such thoughts came over him like a flood and he instantly rose up to answer them. In half an hour he was at his desk, and there he lost the bitterness of his grief in his daily work. Work, the panacea for all sorrow, the oldest gospel preached to men! And because his soul was fit for the sunshine it followed him, and the men who only met him among the looms went for the rest of the day with their heads up and a smile on their faces, so great is the strengthening quality in the mere presence of a man of God, going about his daily business in the spirit of God.
He found no wife to meet him at the end of the day. Jane had gone to Harlow House and taken her maid and a trunk with her. He made no remark. What wise thing could he do but quietly bear an evil that was past cure and put a good face on it? He did not know whether or not Jane had observed the same reticence, but he quickly reflected that no good could come from servants discussing what they knew nothing about.
However, when Jane did not return or send him any message, the following day his anxiety was so great that he called on Dr. Sewell in the evening and asked if he could tell him of his wife's condition.
"I was sent for this morning to Harlow House," he answered.
"Is she ill—worse?"