“I was afraid they did not know how to take care of you, and that your brother-in-law was rough with you.”
“My sister have been much better of late, since you have been here, ma’am; and the poor children, ma’am, I can do something for them.”
“I see that John and Judy seem to respond to your care; but is it right to give up all your comfort and peace, and even your health, for so little as you are enabled to do for them? It would be better if there were some appreciation of your care, or some attention paid—”
“Molly is generally good to me. Yes, she is, ma’am; and poor little Johnnie, there ain’t nothing he would not do for me. I’m greatly obliged to Mrs Barnard and the dear young ladies. I would dearly like to see them again; but Molly is my sister, and my sister is my sister, and I can’t feel it right to leave her.”
“I honour you, Judith. It is a right feeling. But when they neglect you, and prey upon you, can it be incumbent on you to give up all for their sakes?”
“I don’t know, ma’am; but my poor sister, she has a hard life, and I think her husband would be worse to her if I went away. I couldn’t have no comfort in thinking of them if I did.”
“Do they know of this? Have they been persuading you?”
“No, ma’am; I did not say a word. Molly was out, and I wanted to think it out without being worried and terrified.”
“Quite right, Judith. I am glad they do not know,” said Mary, who had learned that “terrified” did not mean frightened, but “tormented.” “I can well believe you have decided in true unselfishness, and in the fear of God. But if you see reason to change your mind, let me know in the course of the week.”
Dora and Sophy were really quite angry at Judith’s refusal, especially Dora, who had taken all the trouble of representing her condition to the Barnards.