“It is true, nevertheless! But it is the common lot, Margaret! Perhaps, as his mother used to treat him so roughly, the poor lad is better off where he is.”
“Oh! of course, I have no doubt of that! But he was all she had—like me!” said Margaret, with her eyes over-brimming. Her husband put his arms round her, and let her have her cry out on his shoulder.
Then, as he wiped her tears away she whispered,
“Arthur, I should like to go and see her—the Baroness, I mean! I can sympathise so truly with her, I might be able to say a few words of comfort!”
“Do as you like, my darling,” replied Colonel Pullen, “that is, if you are sure that the woman won’t insult you, as she did Miss Brandt!”
“Oh! no! no! I am not in the least afraid! Why should she? I shall only tell her how much I feel for her own our common loss——”
She could not proceed, and the doctor whispered to the Colonel.
“Let her do as she wishes! The best salve for our own wounds is to try and heal those of others.”
Margaret rose and prepared to leave the room.
“I shall go at once,” she said, “I suppose there is no chance of my meeting Harriet Brandt there!”