“Let us hope it will be made up in the next world,” said Lady Engleton. Dodge hoped it would, but there was something in the turn of his head that seemed to denote a disposition to base his calculations on this, rather than on the other world. He was expected home by his wife, at this hour, so wishing the company good day, and pocketing the Professor’s gratuity with a gleam of satisfaction in his shrewd and honest face, he trudged off with his broom down the path, and out by the wicket-gate into the village street.
“I never heard that part of the story before,” said Lady Engleton, when the gravedigger had left.
It was new to everybody. “It brings her nearer, makes one realize her suffering more painfully.”
Hadria was silent.
Professor Theobald cast a quick, scrutinizing glance at her.
“I can understand better now how you were induced to take the poor child, Mrs. Temperley,” Lady Engleton remarked.
They were strolling down the path, and Professor Theobald was holding open the gate for his companions to pass through. His hand seemed to shake slightly.
“I don’t enjoy probing my motives on that subject,” said Hadria.
“Why? I am sure they were good.”
“I can’t help hoping that that child may live to avenge her mother; to make some man know what it is to be horribly miserable—but, oh, I suppose it’s like trying to reach the feelings of a rhinoceros!”