“Of course it will, Aunt Lizzie.”
“And the workmen will be paid just the same, of course,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Now, can't you take her home, Robert?”
“Oh, don't mind about me,” cried Ellen.
“You can have a horse put into the buggy,” said Mrs. Lloyd.
“Oh, you mustn't leave her now,” Ellen whispered to Robert. “Let somebody else take me—Dr. James—”
“I would rather you took her,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “And you needn't worry about his leaving me, dear child; the doctor will stay until he comes back.”
As Robert was finally going out his aunt caught his arm and looked at him with a radiant expression. “He will never know about me now,” said she, “and it won't be long before I— Oh, I feel as if I had gotten rid of my own death.”
She was filled with inexpressible thankfulness that she had herself to bear what she had dreaded for her husband. “Only think how hard it would have been for Norman,” she said to Cynthia, the next day.
Cynthia looked at her wonderingly. She could have understood this feeling over a dearly beloved child. “You are a good woman, Lizzie,” she said, in a tone of pitiful respect.
“Not half as good a woman as he was a man,” returned Mrs. Lloyd, jealously. “Norman wasn't a professor, I know, but he was a believer. You don't think it is necessary to be a professor in order to be saved, do you, Cynthia?”