“Mr. Dick—he’s alive! alive! He’s come home.”
“He’ll be arrested,” was Netty’s only thought, and she thrust Jane out of the room, telling her to hold her tongue. It was bitterly cold, and she went back to bed. She guessed that there must be a painful interview in progress down in the study, and her own joy—if any—at the return of her disgraced brother could wait. 236
She had no two points of view. She was sorry that Dick had returned. She regretted that the forger was not dead. It was so hideously inconvenient when one wanted to get married to have a disreputable brother in the family. She then and there resolved that Dick need not think he would ever get money out of Harry Bent.
It was a strange home-coming for the prodigal. His intention to emigrate as soon as he had seen his father and mother was frustrated by an attack of weakness, which made it impossible for him to be moved. He was helped to bed, miserably conscious that self-sacrifice would entail more than emigration. If he took upon his shoulders the family burden, it would be as a prisoner and a convict. The secret of his home-coming could not be kept, and Ormsby’s warrant must take effect.
CHAPTER XXII
THE BLIGHT OF FEAR
Breakfast at the rectory on the morning following Dick’s sensational return was a very solemn meal, for the blight of fear had fallen upon the whole household. No one slept. The father and mother had remained with Dick until the small hours of the morning, and, when they finally bade each other good-night, both were conscious that the old days of sweet comradeship were over forever.
There would be no more heart-to-heart speaking between these two, no sharing of burdens. The man must go his way and the woman hers, each with a load of sorrow to bear.