Your father was a good man, in my eyes, in spite of everything. Remember, he did it for us—so that you and I might live and get well and strong. For me, it was useless.... I know I am dying now. For you—I am praying for you....
Pamela read the signature of Beryl's mother through a blur of tears. She was not a girl who cried easily, and she bit her underlip in an effort to stop it quivering; but the tears forced their way into her eyes so that she dared not look up at Beryl for a moment. She stared instead at the old letter in her hands—the letter written over fourteen years ago, seeing nothing but the white sheet of paper glimmering through her tears. She did not realize that Beryl was waiting in an agony of suspense for her to speak, until she looked up at length and saw Beryl's face.
"Oh, Beryl," was all she could say. And the next moment she had flung her arms round Beryl, and both girls were crying together.
"You see," said Beryl, after a while, "it isn't that I'm ashamed of my father—oh, it isn't that, but I couldn't ever explain to Isobel—I couldn't talk to her about him at all—she'd be all out of sympathy, and she wouldn't understand a bit.... you understand how I mean, Pamela, don't you? ... I've never shown this letter to anyone but you. It was left to me—locked up in an old box with some other things from my mother, with instructions that I was to open it on my fourteenth birthday.... I can't tell you how I felt when I first read it—it came just at a time when I was needing it badly.... But I wouldn't show it to Isobel for anything—you do understand, Pamela?"
"I think I understand," said Pamela gently. "But, Beryl, dear, about your school, and the other things, you've let the thought of Isobel's opinion gain an unreasonable power over you—and you said just now you didn't really mind what she thought of you?"
"Yes, I know," said Beryl, tearfully. "It's all been so silly, and it seems sillier when it's talked of even than when I only thought about it.... Pamela, do you—do you despise me?"
"Of course I don't," replied Pamela promptly.
"Not for anything?"
"Not for anything, you old silly," said Pamela. "And now, look here, I want us to make a plan together. I was just wondering—what would be the best thing for you to do about Isobel!"
"How do you mean?"