"Yes; but he failed to convince the court of it. It is a tangled skein, Aimée, and we can settle nothing till we have him here and Janet well again."
He got up and walked once or twice up and down the long, low room, with a cooking-stove at one end and an open grate for burning wood at the other. Coming to a standstill near the stove, at which Aimée was busy, he said, as if to himself—
"And one thinks of the disgrace, too."
"Now, Gilbert, the case went against him, no doubt; but there were many who, like you, believed him innocent of all but careless folly. It would be forgotten in time if he works steadily here, and makes people like him."
"To like him would be easy; he's a taking kind of fellow enough. Whether he has it in him to bear up under all this misfortune, and live it down, is a different question."
"He would have a better chance here, under your eye, than in any other place."
"That is true. Anyhow, I have Janet and the two boys to think of."
This conversation passed one day that Janet had seemed a little better, but it was not for some time afterwards that she was really quite herself again; even then her weakness was very great. The first time she spoke was a great joy to Aimée, who had begun to fear that her mind was really affected.
Aimée had come to the bedside with a cup of soup and a dainty little bit of toast, when something in the wistful gaze she met, made her say with a smile—
"It is your soup, my dear. Let me raise you up a little."