The widow did not look at all pleased to hear this, anxious as she had seemed for the time when the kind of offence her son had committed should be forgotten.
While she was in a reverie, there was a knock at the door.
“The postman! the postman!” cried Melea, as she ran to open it.
Though it was not the postman, Mrs. Parndon looked far from being disappointed—for it was Mr. Pye.
“Why, now, Mr. Pye,” said she; “if you would only have done what I asked you,—come in without knocking,—you would not have put us in a fluster with thinking you were the postman.”
Mr. Pye was sorry, looked bashful, but did not promise to open the door for himself next time. He spoke of the heat, pushed back his wig, pulled it on again, but so as to leave his best ear uncovered; and then sat, glancing irresolutely from the one lady to the other, while the widow looked as if waiting to be sympathized with. Finding herself obliged to begin, she said,—
“You may speak before Miss Melea, Mr. Pye. She knows the whole; so you need not keep your feelings to yourself because she is here.”
This intimation did not put Enoch at his ease; while Melea could not help waiting to see what would ensue on this permission to indulge sensibility.
“Have you seen Mr. Craig?” asked Enoch. “I know him to have a message of peace, which may support you while waiting for that which I hope will come in another way. You should hear what a comforter Mr. Craig is!”
Melea was sure Mr. Craig would come as soon as he should know that Mrs. Parndon wished to see him. The widow conveyed, however, that she had been so piously comforted the night before, that she had rather chosen to depend on a renewal from the same source than to send for the clergyman, though, if matters went worse instead of better, she should need all the supports of friendship and religion. And poor Mrs. Parndon’s tears began to flow. Enoch could never bear to see this. He walked about the room, returned to take his old friend’s hand, tried to speak, and found that his voice would not serve him. Melea began to think she had better be going, when the expected letter arrived.