And to this man whom she had always trusted Elizabeth poured out all her fears, her feelings, and her frantic cry for help.
“I’ve had no one to talk to, Luther,” she ended, “and I don’t believe a human being can go on always and not put things into words.”
They talked on and on. Having started, she let him see the consuming struggle between right and wrong which she waged every day.
“Doctor Morgan says, ‘Cheer him up! Cheer him up,’ and what am I to do?” she closed in desperation.
Elizabeth Hunter had told far more than she supposed. She had bared a yearning, struggling heart to Luther’s gaze, a soul seeking a right path where there seemed no sure road, nothing but confusion.
Luther longed to help, but the problem presented insurmountable difficulties; to adopt a rigid code of morals as such was to come out at the end of the journey with something in herself and society satisfied, and Hugh Noland’s life sacrificed, as Doctor Morgan had said; to adopt a sympathetic attitude would spare the life of a useful man, but with her code shattered. If only she could take John into her confidence both might be possible.
“Lizzie, you couldn’t tell Hunter, could you?” Even as he asked it he knew it could not be done.
“I would tell John instantly if he were like you, Luther,” was her reply. “I think Hugh himself would have been glad to. If he could have explained, he could have got away. No—John isn’t the kind of man. He wouldn’t understand, and he’d make it a great deal worse than it is to everybody. He’d accuse me and spoil Jack’s life, and——”
The hopelessness of it left her silent for a minute, and then Doctor Morgan’s warnings came up to be reckoned with.
“The doctor says he’ll die if he’s worried, Luther. What am I to do?” she demanded, wanting him to settle the question for her, and letting the tears run unrestrained down her cheeks.