“She was cruel.” Norah’s eyes were angry.
“She was very unhappy, so we mustn’t judge her,” her father said, sighing. “Poor soul, she paid for her harshness. Later the truth of the whole bad business came out, and she would have given the world to be able to beg his forgiveness-only it was too late.”
“Was he dead, Daddy?”
“They found his body in the river,” said Mr. Linton. “Poor old chap, he couldn’t stand the loss of his whole world. I’ve wished ever since that I could tell him I never believed the lie for a moment. I was in England at the time, and I knew nothing about it until he was dead.”
“Poor old Daddy,” said Norah softly.
“Oh, it’s an old story, now,” Mr. Linton said. “Only I never lose the regret—and wish that I could have done something to help my old friend. I don’t quite know why I’ve told you about it, except that I want you to be kind to young Dick Stephenson, because his life has been a sad enough one.”
“Is his mother alive?”
“She lives in Melbourne,” said her father. “I think she only lives for this boy, and the time when she can go to her husband and beg his forgiveness. He’ll give it, too—poor old Jim. He could never bear malice in his life, and I’m certain death couldn’t change his nature. The lad seems a good chap; he’s had a first-rate education. But his mother never gave him any profession; I don’t know why. Women aren’t made for business. So he wants to teach.”
“I’ll be good to him, Daddy.” Norah slipped her hand into her father’s.
“That’s my little girl. I knew I could depend on you,” said Mr. Linton. A far-away look came into his eyes, and he pulled hard at his pipe. Norah guessed he was thinking of days of long ago.