"There will be no occasion to decide at once," said Colonel Herbert. "Miss Morton will scarcely be in a state to think of anything for the next few days; and by that time we shall be better able to judge whether there is any serious obstacle in the way—anything that involves a sacrifice of what is right, which, in fact, is all that is really to be considered."
"People would laugh," said Mrs Herbert, "at the idea of its being possible to act wrongly in taking an orphan girl into your family, with the earnest wish of making her happy."
"Very likely they would; but I have seen enough of life to have discovered that a hasty kindness is often quite as injurious as a hasty unkindness. Mere feeling, however good, should never be allowed entirely to guide our actions, especially where the happiness of another person is so materially concerned as in the present case."
"I do not well see how it could lead us wrong now," replied Mrs Herbert.
"It might induce us to decide without considering the sacrifices which will be required of us; and then when the time came for making them we should be vexed and disappointed, and should probably show it, and so destroy poor Miss Morton's comfort, or perhaps force her to leave us, whereas, if we well weigh them beforehand, we shall be prepared, and they will come as a matter of course."
"I believe you are right; and yet my first impulse, when you mentioned the subject, was to go at once and name it to Emily; of course, I felt in a moment it would be very absurd, if not really wrong; but it is so hard to know that suffering exists, and not make some effort to relieve it."
"Yes," replied Colonel Herbert; "and it is so hard to make up our minds that suffering is good for those we love. But we must do it now; we must bear to wait patiently till Miss Morton has formed her own plans, though we know how much it will cost her to do it, and also to see every one about us unhappy for many weeks, if not months, to come; no human power can at present give them consolation."
"It is but a sad welcome for you," said Mrs Herbert, smiling through her tears as she looked in her husband's face; "but I can be deeply thankful that the trial did not come sooner; I could not have borne it then."
"We might have been too happy without it," he replied. "I half dreaded that something might happen when I went with Amy to the cottage. To see you looking as you did on that morning, so much more like your former self than I could possibly have expected, and to discover in every word she uttered how entirely my fondest wishes for her had been realised, was greater happiness than it is usually permitted us to enjoy for any length of time."
"It is strange now," said Mrs Herbert, "to remember the unclouded pleasure I then felt; it is like endeavouring to realise the beauty of a summer's day when we are in the midst of winter. But there are some who seem to have had no summer to their lives—Miss Morton, for instance."