“I think myself,” said Miss Marston, “that there is little danger of her repeating her folly. She seems really a very modest young person. She has undoubtedly fallen through an ill-directed affection. What sort of a man is her lover, and where is he?”
Mrs. Forest did not dare meet Clara’s eyes during her quick answer, “Oh, it is a young man in town. He does not seem to care anything for her.”
“I consider him an unprincipled wretch,” replied Clara, indignantly. Her mother’s determination to screen Dan looked very ugly in her eyes. “Papa says he offered to marry her,” she continued, addressing Miss Marston, “but in a way that showed he considered it a great sacrifice; and she was proud enough and womanly enough to throw his insulting offer back in his teeth. I like her for that, and I think we ought to protect her right generously. I mean to help her, at all events.”
“My child!” cried Mrs. Forest, in alarm. “You are so impulsive, so imprudent. You will certainly be talked about.”
“I don’t think, mamma, that should make any difference when we know we are in the right. I believe the right way is to find out what our duty is, and then, to do it openly and fairly.”
“My dear,” said Miss Marston, “there are very Quixotic ways of doing our duty.” She said this in a cool, decided way, that chafed Clara’s growing heroic mood, and she replied, bitterly: “I could avoid these ways, I suppose, by making bibs and baby things in secret, and sending them to her anonymously, but I think that would be contemptible. I know if such an awful thing should happen to any one of my dear friends, my equals, or to my own sister, I should go to her and comfort her with my sympathy; and if there is any goodness or nobility in doing so for a dear friend, there must be still more virtue in such a course when the object is a poor, friendless girl, deprived of all advantages of education and social culture until she came here.”
“Very well reasoned,” said Miss Marston, ironically; “but I am sorry to see that you forget how this young person has profited by the advantages for social culture that she has already had in this family.”
Clara’s eyes fairly flashed, and Mrs. Forest saw that she was sorely tempted to show Miss Marston what social and moral influence Susie had been under through one member of the family at least; so she made haste to answer soothingly, almost before the words were out of Miss Marston’s mouth, “You are so young, my daughter, that it hardly becomes you to seem to know so much more than your elders about what is right and proper. I know your motives are generous, but you must not trust yourself wholly in such a case as this. You are wrong in supposing that showing open sympathy with a girl who has fallen from virtue, can do her any good; and it certainly may injure you irreparably.”
“Your whole tone, mamma, is cold and calculating. This poor girl is alone, and in an agony of grief such as we have never dreamed of. If helping her bear up under her burden, must injure me, even irreparably, as you say, let it do so. I do not want the favor nor the admiration of the Levites and Pharisees who pass by on the other side. Besides, I do not act alone. I have had the counsel of the clearest head I know, and as noble a heart as ever beat.” Here Clara paused and sighed heavily, almost overcome with a feeling of disappointment that Miss Marston should manifest so little generosity, and one of sorrow also that she had been compelled to express sentiments that must wound her much-loved teacher and friend. As she expected, Miss Marston took refuge in dignified silence, understanding herself, of course, as included among the Pharisees and Levites. Mrs. Forest remarked that all experience showed the feelings to be dangerous guides; as also were what were loosely called principles; that the only thing that upheld pure morals was religion, and therefore it was the only sure guide.
Clara had often seen this making religious duty an excuse for selfishness, and she had a contempt for it as natural as was her repulsion to everything dark and ugly. She replied boldly, “I hear much about principles and religion, and I am compelled to judge them by their fruits. My father, you say, has no religion. Surely principles are better than religion, if one leads to helpful sympathy with all misfortune, and the other to cold calculation of the effect of evil tongues. I have thought over all the possible results, mamma, and I have decided. I know one who will help Susie openly, and without either calculation or shame; and I shall certainly follow his example, for I will trust my father’s sense of right against the world!” and with this, delivered very dramatically and rapidly, Clara left the room.