“It was all my fault, Glory. But I tried—”
“Please don’t talk so, Aunty,” begged Gloria, now on her knees beside the bed, “I only went to see a—sick friend, and I couldn’t get away!”
“I know. You went on Mona’s wheel and you took all your money, and I thought—”
“That I had run away! Oh, Auntie! Of course I didn’t. I wasn’t unhappy here, and you have been good and kind to me—”
“After cheating you! After sending Hazel in your place! After stealing Lottie’s money!”
“Hush, Auntie, don’t!” begged Gloria, feeling the hand of Martha Drake urging her to leave the room. “You are only excited and worked up. I know you did nothing wrong, and you must not blame yourself so—”
A grateful look came over the face of Harriet Towers. “You have taught me, you with your quiet, determined spirit. But I’ve done what I could. Squire Hanaford now has the deed of that—that place, and it’s to be made out over in your name.”
“In my name? But I don’t want it,” protested Gloria, going toward the door.
“I couldn’t live another day until I did it, and I’m afraid—”
“You did too much in one day. And a lot of it was my fault,” murmured Gloria contritely.