"Then burn it; and if your friend remains obstinate he can always write it again; but we must hope that by gaining time you will be able to arouse his better feelings, and at least induce him to moderate its tone."
"Of course he could write it again if he remains obstinate. I never thought of that," said Mr. Gresley, in a low voice. "So he would not eventually lose the money if he was still decided to gain it in an unscrupulous manner. Or I could help him to rewrite it. I never thought of that before."
"Your course is perfectly clear, my dear Gresley," said the Archdeacon, not impatiently, but as one who is ready to open up a new subject. "Your tender conscience alone makes the difficulty. Is not Mrs. Gresley endeavoring to attract our attention?"
Mrs. Gresley was beckoning them in to tea.
When the Archdeacon had departed, Mr. Gresley said to his wife: "I have talked over the matter with him, not mentioning names, of course. He is a man of great judgment. He advises me to burn it."
"Hester's book?"
"Yes."
"He is quite right, I think," said Mrs. Gresley, her hands trembling, as she took up her work. Hester would never forgive her brother if he did that. It would certainly cause a quarrel between them. Young married people did best without a third person in the house.
"Will you follow his advice?" she asked.
"I don't know. I—you see—poor Hester!—it has taken her a long time to write. I wish to goodness she would leave writing alone."