As she opened it, she woke to the consciousness that she was very cross, and in a mood to make her unfair to Gartley: the moment she had closed it, she turned to him and said,
"Forgive me, Gartley; I am in trouble; we are all in trouble. When I have told you about it, I shall be more at ease."
Without preamble, or any attempt to influence the impression of the dreadful news, she began her story, softening the communication only by making it as the knowledge had come to her—telling first her mother's distress at Sarah's letter, then the contents of that letter, and then those of her uncle's. She could not have done it with greater fairness to her friend: his practised self-control had opportunity for perfect operation. But the result was more to her satisfaction than she could have dared to hope. He held out his hand with a smile, and said,
"I am very sorry. What is there I can do?"
She looked up in his eyes. They were looking down kindly and lovingly.
"Then—then—," she said, "you don't—I mean there's no—I mean, you don't feel differently towards me?"
"Towards you, my angel!" exclaimed Gartley, and held out his arms.
She threw herself into them, and clung to him. It was the first time either of them had shown anything approaching to abandon. Gartley's heart swelled with delight, translating her confidence into his power. He was no longer the second person in the compact, but had taken the place belonging to the male contracting party! For he had been painfully conscious now and then that he played but second fiddle.
They sat down and talked the whole thing over.
Now that Hester was at peace she began to look at it from Gartley's point of view.