“I am of pretty much the same opinion, and he shall never again, with my consent, have an opportunity to abuse those little ones, or any child committed to my care.”
There had been some changes in Mr. George Eldon’s family in the last two years. A fall on the icy pavement one winter day had so injured Mrs. Eldon’s spine as to make her a cripple for life, never able to leave her room unless carried from it. At first she felt the trial well-nigh unendurable, but gradually she had grown submissive; gentle, patient, and resigned; thankful too for the blessings still hers—a good home, kind and affectionate husband, sons, and niece, a competent and efficient housekeeper and abundant means. Also that she still had the use of all her senses, her hands and eyes, so that she could read, sew, and crochet, making herself useful to her family and helpful to the needy.
In the family of Mr. Albert Eldon there had been little change except such as time inevitably brings to all; the boys and girls were growing up, Albert and Arabella were beginning to go into society, and the younger ones had a governess, Miss Annie West, who also gave lessons in music and the languages to Dorothy Dean, Mrs. George’s niece.
Mrs. Augusta still devoted much of her time to novel-reading and what she deemed the claims of society, yet paid a little more attention to those of household, husband, and children.
Mrs. George, in an easy-chair and propped up with cushions, was busily crocheting when she heard the front door open and shut, then her husband’s step on the stairs.
“Ah! I wonder what brings George home at this time of day?” was her mental exclamation, and as he entered by the open door of her room she turned toward him with a welcoming smile.
“A pleasant surprise, my dear!” she said.
“Yes, to me as well as yourself,” he said, returning the smile. “How are you now? Free from pain, I hope.”
“Yes, quite comfortable, thank you. Ah, I see you have a letter,” as he drew it from his pocket, at the same time taking possession of a chair close at her side.
“Yes, from my little niece Ethel.” And without further preface he began reading it aloud.