She sat up and began what proved to be a long story, but Janet listened patiently, even to the first part, which concerned her life at the old Gatehouse. When she came to the story of the children, their mother had no need of patience. She listened with quiet tears to the history of Frank's constant care for the little one, and the occurrences of the last day at Kelmersdale quite accounted for the children's flight.
"And now, Janet, can you say again that I did not murder Frank?"
Janet dried her eyes, and, looking gently at the poor woman, she said—
"I can. You did not intend to injure them in any way. For what you did, that made them unhappy and drove them away from you, we forgive you with all our hearts. Mrs. Rayburn, I must go; but promise me one thing. I am sure there must be some clergyman here in whom you could have confidence. Send for him, be as candid with him as you have been with me; and though we shall hardly meet again on earth, we shall meet at the right hand of the Judge—both of us forgiven sinners, for His sake."
"I will—I promise you. Oh, Janet! How good you are to me! Since you can forgive me, surely I may hope."
"He who taught us to forgive will not be unforgiving."
Janet bent and kissed her, and then went quickly to the door, for she felt that her stay was longer than had been intended. As she opened the door, she saw Miss Anna in full flight down the passage, and could not help suspecting that she had been listening.
It was not nice of Miss Anna to listen at the door, yet, strange to say, what she thus heard made a great change in her.
"There must be some truth in this talk about religion," she thought. "I expected poor Janet would shake her in the bed, and instead she forgave her, and seemed quite anxious about her, and spoke so kindly."
And thus the leaven was hid in the meal, and gradually the whole was leavened.