"I wish it were possible to comfort her," observed Colonel Herbert; "but
I am afraid it would be out of the power of any one at present."
"Oh, if Rose should but get well!" exclaimed Dora, "we shall all be happy again then."
"Yes," replied her uncle; "but do you not see, my dear Dora, that nothing can really make any difference in Margaret's conduct?"
"Indeed, uncle," said Dora, "it would be impossible not to feel differently."
"I will quite allow that," replied Colonel Herbert; "and I am not wishing so much that Margaret should care less about Rose, as that she should care more about Miss Morton. The one fault was far greater than the other; and we must never forget that sorrow for the consequences of our faults is not repentance; it will not keep us from sinning again when the temptation offers. The only sorrow which can really be of service to us is that which makes us shrink from an evil action when it is done in secret, and apparently without having any effect upon others. I mean," he added, seeing Dora look surprised, "that we must learn to dread deceit, and selfishness, and vanity, for their own sake, because they are hateful to God, not because they make us disliked by our fellow-creatures."
Dora could not entirely see the distinction; she thought her uncle harsh in his manner of speaking of Margaret; and Colonel Herbert soon perceived by her silence that she did not enter into what he had been saying; he did not, however, like to pursue the subject any further, for it hardly seemed the moment to discuss questions of right and wrong, when Dora's mind was in a state of so much anxiety; and he therefore contented himself with begging her not to think that he could not feel for Margaret most sincerely, because he wished that she could see her actions in a just point of view. "I am a stranger to her as yet," he said; "but I shall hope soon to show how real an interest I take in her, and in all of you. Even if I were not so nearly connected, I could not forget the kindness and affection you have shown to Amy, and that some of her happiest moments have been spent with you."
Dora's heart was a little softened by this speech; neither could she easily resist the polished dignity of Colonel Herbert's manner, which gave a peculiar charm to every expression of feeling. She did not, however, choose to acknowledge it, and exclaimed, when he left the room, "Your papa is so different from every one else, Amy; he almost frightens me. I wonder you could talk to him as you did this morning."
"I don't feel comfortable always," said Amy; "especially just at first when I begin; but afterwards I forget everything but the pleasure of having him home again, and then I can get on quite well."
"I wish Julia Stanley had talked to him a little," observed Dora; "he would have put her down delightfully."
"I wanted to ask you a few questions about her and the others," said Amy; "but there has been no time; and no one has been able to think of common things. Perhaps, though, you would rather not tell me about them now."