It seemed to Fran that the voice of this wife who was not a wife, lingered in the room. The hymn, no longer audible, had left behind it a fragrance, as sometimes lingers the sweet savor of a prayer, after its "amen" has, as it were, dropped back into the heart whence it issued. Fran instinctively held out both arms toward the direction of the door just closed, as if she could see Mrs. Gregory kneeling behind it.
"Almost," she said, in a solemn undertone, "thou persuadest me to be a
Christian."
Had any one but Mrs. Gregory been singing that hymn, had any one but Fran been the one to intrude upon the library scene, Grace must have been overwhelmed. As it was, she stood quite untouched, resolving to stay in order to prove herself, and to show Gregory that they must sacrifice their love for conscience' sake.
Gregory, however, was deeply touched by Fran's yearning arms. He rose and stood before her.
"Fran, child, we promise that what you saw shall never happen again. But you mustn't tell about it. I know you won't tell. I can't send Grace away, because I need her. She will not go because she knows herself to be strong. We are going to hide our souls. And you can't tell what you've seen, on account of her—" He pointed in the direction of his wife.
Fran knew very well what he meant. If she told the secret, it would disgrace Mrs. Gregory. The revelation might drive Grace away, though Fran did not think so, but certainly whether Grace went, or stayed, it would break the heart of the one she loved best in that home. Gregory was right; Fran could never betray him.
She turned blindly upon Grace: "Then have you no conscience?—you are always talking about one. Does no sense of danger warn you away? Can't you feel any shame?"
Grace did not smile contemptuously. She weighed these words at their real value, and soberly interrogated herself. "No," she declared with deliberation, "I feel no sense of danger because I mean to guard myself after this. And my conscience bids me stay, to show that I have not really done anything—" But she could not deny the feeling of shame, for the burning of her cheeks proved the recollection of hot kisses.
"But suppose I tell what I have seen."
"Well," said Grace, flashing out defiantly, "and suppose you do!"