She cowered silently away from him.
"Can you teach him to tell the truth, you, who have lived a lie? Can you make him brave, you, who could not endure? Can you make him honorable, you, who have deceived us all? Can you make him unselfish, you, who have thought only of self? Can you teach him purity, you, who—"
"Stop! I cannot bear it."
"Tell me the truth: can you do him any good?"
That last solemn word fell into profound silence. There was not a sound in the still darkness of the study; and suddenly her soul was still, too … the whirlwind of anger had died out; the shock of responsibility had subsided; the hiss of those flames of shame had ceased. She was in the centre of all the tumults, where lies the quiet mind of God. For a long time she did not speak. Then, by and by, her face hidden in her arms on the table, she said, in a whisper:
"No."
And after the fire, the still small Voice.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Dr. Lavendar looked at the bowed head; but he offered no comfort. When she said brokenly, "No; I can't have him. I can't have him," he assented; and there was silence again. It was broken by a small, cheerful voice:
"Mary says supper's ready. There's milk toast, an'—"