“Certainly; justice may be blind, but charity never is!”
“I have no reason for concealment; but it seems an unnecessary question. I do not ask for money, or charity of any kind. I supposed that a society, established for benevolent purposes, would gladly help an honorable girl to obtain some means of earning her own livelihood. It is not charity that I ask, but help; such as one woman may give to another, quietly and with a feeling of sisterhood. This is what I expected.”
“Then you refuse to answer my questions. How am I to know whether you are worthy or not?”
“If I were unworthy, would you be likely to learn it from my own lips? But I will not refuse; it may be necessary. I was born in the city.”
“What is your name? Who are your relatives? How came you here?”
Catharine turned deathly pale and trembled. For the first time in her life she came near assuming her husband’s name. It was an act of disobedience, for, until his return, he had forbidden this; but she shrunk from her own name as if it were a disgrace; it seemed to her that every one must know that she was a childless mother. She hesitated, her color came and went, the fear of disgrace struggled hard against her natural dread of assuming her husband’s name unauthorized. At last her resolution was taken. She would risk everything rather than disobey the man whom she had loved and trusted so entirely. He might be false to her, but she would still hold firm to her promise—never till he came back would she take his name.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A CHARITABLE CROSS-EXAMINATION.
While Catharine reflected, that woman’s cold eyes were upon her, passionless and steady as if she quietly enjoyed the crimson as it flushed and paled on her face.
At last Catharine gave her maiden name, but it was in a low, faltering voice, and with a sharp struggle to keep the tears from her eyes.
“You are single, of course?” questioned the woman, suspiciously eying her from head to foot.