“Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in turn, “I was a little mortified. But that was very weak and foolish. I am sorry, for their own sakes, they would not stay; it was the word of God: but they saw only the unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you have a hard task; but you must work upon your mothers, and win them to charity.”
“Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never approved this unhappy quarrel.”
“No more has mine.”
“Is it so? Then you must try and get the two ladies to speak to each other. But something tells me that a way will be opened. Have patience; have faith; and do not mind a check or two; but persevere, remembering that 'blessed are the peace-makers.'”
She then rose, and they took leave of her.
“Give me a kiss, children,” said she. “You have done me a world of good. My own heart often flags on the road, and you have warmed and comforted it. God bless you!”
And so they parted.
Compton and Ruperta walked homeward. Ruperta was very thoughtful, and Compton could only get monosyllables out of her. This discouraged, and at last vexed him.
“What have I done,” said he, “that you will speak to anybody but me?”
“Don't be cross, child,” said she; “but answer me a question. Did you put your tippet round me in that wood?”