“Oh, mamma!”
Fanny’s exclamation did not express incredulity so much as dismay. She had given up all effort to drink her tea, and leaned back in her chair, her trembling hands hidden in her lap.
The dean continued to regard his wife over the tops of his big tortoise-shell spectacles. His mild face and pale-blue eyes behind the heavy brown rims made him look like a pallid but speculative beetle.
“What’s the matter? Did the judge tell you?”
Mrs. Price shook her head.
“He said: ‘My daughter came home last night to stay, and she has my entire approval and support.’ That’s exactly the way he worded it, Edward, and I—really, I was afraid to say a word. The atmosphere seemed to be thick—charged, you know. I can tell you I was glad to get out. I almost ran all the way home!”
“Did you see Diane, mamma?” Fanny managed to ask in a voice which at another time would have arrested her mother’s attention; but at the moment Mrs. Price was absorbed.
“Just for a few minutes, dear. She went right up-stairs and left me to the judge. You know I never am at home with him. I always feel—well, just the way I did when I was a little girl and my father made me fire off a Roman candle. I was so frightened when it exploded! You know I went over there to return those books papa borrowed, and I got right into it. As soon as Di went up-stairs, he began. I saw there was something the matter before. She looks as if she’d been drawn through a knot-hole. I was just thinking that I never saw a bride look like that when she got up and left me with him. Of course, I began to get ready to leave, too, but he made me sit down and sprang this thing on me—just like that! Somehow I felt as if I’d done it myself. I know David never felt a bit worse when Nathan said unto him, ‘Thou art the man!’ I felt as if I were either Faunce or Faunce’s mother, and I got up and ran!”
The dean smiled grimly.
“You’re not to blame, my dear, unless you want to shoulder a vicarious responsibility because I married them.”