Katharine had been whispering to her mother; her face became anxious; she was evidently pleading for something. At last the stiff old woman arose, and going up to Thrasher laid one hand on his shoulder.
"Nelson Thrasher, I know the wrong you have done my daughter. My son told me all before he went his voyage to the Indies. He charged me to keep it secret, and I have. She begs me to pardon it, and I will. Nelson Thrasher, I forgive you, as I pray God to forgive my own sins."
Thrasher bowed his head; the solemnity of the old woman went to his soul. After a moment his face was slowly lifted, and his eyes looked into hers.
"I thank you," he said, gently. "Katharine, tell her that she can trust you with me now."
Katharine came to his side, smiling.
"Yes, mother; for he loves me; and I, oh, you know how it was always with me."
"And now you will live with us," said Mrs. Thrasher, hovering around her son, troubled in her heart that any one should claim a word or look.
"Yes, mother, we have come to the homestead to end our days. Here, among our old neighbors, we will redeem the good name which has been forfeited by your son, and innocently lost by this dear girl. Where else can we turn? Let our neighbors know all; we will have nothing to do with concealments, but meet their kindness or condemnation fairly. In time they will learn to like us again—for her sake I hope it, and will toil for it."
"We will always stand by our children; wont we Mrs. Allen?"
It was the soft, cooing voice of Mrs. Thrasher which uttered these words. "The neighbors like us, and wont be harsh with them. If they should, you know we are company among ourselves." The dear old woman turned her mild brown eyes from Mrs. Allen to her husband, questioning them both.