As the lady spoke, Mabin felt the horror she had experienced melt gradually into pity for the poor little lady whom this hard woman had in her power. And with compassion came resistance.
“Why shouldn’t she have friends?” she asked hotly. “Mrs. Dale is not a hypocrite. She is deeply sorry for what wrong she has done; she never denies that she has done something which has spoiled her life. And I like her better for being able to be happy in spite of it, sometimes, than if she pretended she could never smile again.”
“Well, of course, for such a trifle as the murder of her husband, you could not expect a woman of her light temperament to trouble herself very long!” said the visitor with grim irony.
“I don’t mean that. I know how much she suffers. But look how young she is. How could you expect that she could never be happy for a single moment any more? Doesn’t God forgive us our sins, when we repent truly? And isn’t it by His laws that we can’t be numb to any feeling but one all our lives?”
“You are a very powerful advocate, I am sure! Perhaps if you had had a son whose life had been ruined by this woman’s conduct, you would be less enthusiastic.”
These words startled Mabin, and made her look at the harsh visitor in a new light. And she saw, or fancied she saw, in the handsome but stern features of the old lady, a trace of the worn face of her father’s tenant. She came a step closer, with her eyes intently fixed on the lady’s countenance.
“Are you,” she asked in a whisper, “a relation of Mr. Banks?”
The visitor started, and seemed intensely astonished, and even alarmed, by this question. She made no answer for a few moments, which she passed in deep thought. Then, raising her head, and looking straight into the girl’s eyes, she said calmly:
“And who is Mr. Banks?”
“One of the old friends of Mrs. Dale, who cares for her as much as any new one!” replied Mabin promptly.