‘Ay, Rhoda, it’s what was prophesied long ago—the sins of the fathers being visited on the children, but you mustn’t make too much of it. You’ve had your share of fretting, goodness knows! and you’ll kill yourself if you get no rest from it. You’re not over strong, my girl, as it is. I’ve watched your cheeks grow thinner for many a day past, and it’s worried me more than enough. This Mr Walcheren is as much dead to you, Rhoda, as if he was in his grave, where I’m sure I wish to goodness he had been before he had ever met you, and so you must try not to think of him, and that’s why I’d like to see a few more miles put between you. It does you no good to live so near London.’
‘Mother,’ said the girl, as she dried her wet eyes, ‘if you imagine for a moment that I think of Fred in any other light than that of another woman’s husband, you are very much mistaken. If he were free to marry to-morrow, he wouldn’t ask me to be his wife.’
(‘More shame for him,’ interpolated Mrs Berry.)
‘He is grieving too much to dream of marrying again, even if he were in the world. His heart is buried in his wife’s grave.’
‘More shame for him,’ repeated her mother, ‘and with that poor little child running about without a father to his name.’
‘Such a thing has never entered my imagination for a minute,’ continued Rhoda. ‘I am glad that we are friends, and proud that he should consider me worthy to give him advice, but there will never be anything more between us. How could there be?’
‘I understood he had some idea of leaving the Church.’
‘He alluded to it, mother, but I do not suppose he will have the courage to carry it out. It would take the spirit of a hero, or a martyr, to brave the sneers and contempt and abuse of the world for taking such a step. And Frederick was never very strong-minded. He must have altered greatly since I knew him if he has the courage of his own opinions.’
‘He’s not like you, then, my dear, who have, I verily believe, the courage of a lion. But I mustn’t stop chattering any longer, or we shall have no dinner to-day. But think over Uncle Will’s proposal again, Rhoda, before you finally make up your mind. He’s too good a man to throw a girl’s misfortune in her teeth. And we shall never get such a chance again—never.’
Rhoda smiled faintly, but she shook her head all the same. Never had her sin stared her so unpleasantly in the face before. To be disgraced for Frederick’s sake—to bear her shame silently and alone—to have to toil through life to maintain her child—all this she had realised long ago, and made up her mind to bear courageously.