He looked up.
Julia stood there.
He told her all in fewer words than Ran had taken to tell the story.
She drew a chair and sat down beside him, took his hand and held it while she said:
“Well, don’t cry no more. The girl has had her lesson; but the shame of her marriage is not hern or ourn. We will take her home and give her love and comfort and peace, if we cannot give her happiness. I will be as true and tender a mother to her as if she were my own hurt child. And her own mother looking down from heaven will see no cause to blame me. At Medge her story need never be known. She will be the Liddy Legg of her youth. She went for to be a governess in a rich American family—she has come home now for good. That is true, and it’s all of the truth that need be known at Medge. The writing between the lines need not be read there. And there is Uncle Dandy, who is just as kind as he is rich. He will surely be good to the poor gal.”
Suddenly Julia paused and fell into deep thought.
While she had been comforting her husband in his sorrow over his miserable daughter her own better nature was aroused, and when finally she had occasion to allude to her old uncle she felt ashamed of the selfish and avaricious spirit that had inspired her to run after him for his imaginary wealth and to covet its inheritance, and she secretly resolved to try, with the Lord’s help, to put away the evil influence and think of the old relative as a lonely old man whose age and infirmities it should be not only her duty but her pleasure to cherish and support.
And then the spirit of avarice departed for the time being, at least; for a devil cannot endure the presence of an angel.
While this change was silently passing within her she still held her husband’s hand.
At length she spoke again, slightly varying the subject.