When Virginia came down-stairs she heard the pleasant jingle of ice in the drawing-room. Plato was serving iced tea, there being no occasion in life, not even a funeral, when refreshments were not served; but Mr. Carter and her grandfather were the only tea-drinkers. Mrs. Carter was sitting in the corner, surreptitiously wiping her eyes, and Daniel was walking up and down on the rear piazza. Virginia heard his restless tramp as she crossed the hall and stood for a moment in the drawing-room door. They all looked up at her, and Plato discreetly withdrew, bearing his tray.
“How is she, Jinny?” the colonel asked quietly, setting aside his slender glass of tea.
“I think she knew him,” Virginia answered simply, and then, ignoring the two men, she went over to Mrs. Carter. “You were good to come,” she said softly.
“Oh, Virginia!” Mrs. Carter dabbed at her eyes, “I feel as if I’d been guilty.” She lowered her voice and added in a whisper: “What did William say?”
Virginia smiled, a beautiful light in her eyes.
“I think he’s forgiven her already,” she replied sweetly. “I’ve been with her for hours and hours, and I’m fond of her. I can’t help it. She’s like a child, Mrs. Carter, and she loves William. Besides, she’s suffered terribly, and don’t you think suffering expiates everything?”
Mrs. Carter pressed her handkerchief against her lips. For a moment she was silent, aware of her husband’s eyes and Colonel Denbigh’s. Involuntarily they looked at her. She wavered a little, and then she spoke, faint-heartedly but sincerely.
“Johnson, I think we ought to go up-stairs, too. We ought to tell William how we feel—at least, I should. I’m ready to do anything that’s right.”
Mr. Carter nodded his head slowly.
“I’ve just told the colonel that we’re not really monsters,” he replied bluntly; “but we’ve had rather a rough experience, take it all in all. There’s Leigh, nothing but a boy, and he’s killed a man. It’s not a nice thing to think about. He told me one night how he felt. It haunts him. Besides, I’ve seen William falling down on his work. The whole racket got on our nerves. I reckon we were hard on her. William used to call her a wild fawn. Maybe, if we’d met her from the first in the right way, she’d have tamed down.”