“I suppose I had to expect that from you!” retorted the judge bitterly. “It’s orthodox, isn’t it? It may be right, but she’s given me up. I shall never forgive her!”
The dean fired up with a passion that transfigured his thin face.
“She can do better without your forgiveness than without God’s!”
The judge eyed him a moment in heavy silence.
“Did you meddle with her, Price?”
“No, more shame to me! I was afraid of you, Hadley, that’s the truth.” In spite of himself the judge smiled grimly. “I was afraid to speak. I waited my opportunity, a plain call to interfere, but all the while I hoped, I prayed, that she’d see the light—and she has! She’s a fine woman. God bless her!”
Herford turned slowly around in his chair and faced Overton.
“You, at least, will be on my side!”
A deep flush mounted slowly over Overton’s pale face. He felt both pairs of eyes upon him, and he had found it difficult, from the first, wholly to master his emotion; but he lifted his head now.
“No!” He spoke slowly and with an effort. “I’m not on your side, judge. She’s done the high thing, the noble thing, that we should have expected—knowing her.”