“What’s the matter now then?”
“It’s right you should feel obliged to your late husband—I’m not wondering at that. But now—just because you talked to him, and he behaved like the man he is, and spoke sense and didn’t break your neck, as some men might—just because of that, you seem to have turned round and—and—well, to hear you this morning one would think you and Ned—”
Medora quite understood.
“Funny you should say that. I know just what you mean. It came over me in the night. I got looking back a lot, and I couldn’t help feeling, when he stood there talking to me in the old way—I couldn’t help feeling that he’d got his side after all. I dare say I didn’t quite understand his point of view, or how I looked from it. You’ve got to be fair, mother. It was as if all that fearful time, when we drifted apart, had been ruled out for the minute, and we were back at the starting place. I took all he said in a very proper and patient spirit; and if you ask him, he’ll tell you I did. And he didn’t mince words either. And I very much wish for you to see him as soon as you can, and tell him that I greatly value his advice, and that my eyes were opened for the first time to my fatal conduct. And, being a fair woman, I’ve got to admit that I used him badly, along of some weakness in myself I never knew was there; and I think he was more kind about it than I deserved. Please see he hears that.”
“And what price, Jordan?” asked Mrs. Trivett.
“This has nothing to do with Jordan. I’m going to see him now and explain that he must visit Ned at once; and I hope he’ll feel properly grateful to Ned for his goodness to me. He ought.”
Lydia’s head swam.
“Don’t you see, mother, that Ned is—?”
“I don’t see nothing,” answered Mrs. Trivett. “This is all beyond me. You’re right to be obliged to him—well you may be; but, for God’s sake, don’t go blowing Ned’s trumpet to your future husband, else—”
“I’m not going to be narrow-minded about Ned,” answered Medora calmly. “You can leave it to me. I shall certainly tell Jordan the way I was treated.”