"Poor thing! But the circumstances of his death must have made it more horrible to her?"
"It is a mercy that she does not seem to have understood that. She is very ill, and seems not to have had time to think yet—except that she has a vague idea that her children will starve."
"They shall not do that. You shall tell me what to do for them—that is my affair."
"Thank you. I thought you would feel for her. But the plan I have in my mind depends chiefly on Mrs. Morton, and I feel that it is asking a great deal to expect her to do anything."
"It is indeed. I should be almost afraid to speak to her on the subject."
"If she had had her way, I imagine, matters would never have been so bad between Doctor Morton and Clarkson. I know she was inclined to be indulgent—perhaps too indulgent—when this poor woman came to her about their rent."
"She is very kind hearted. But after her goodness has been so cruelly abused, how can one expect her now to be even just? But, indeed, you have not yet told me what you wish her to do?"
"I should like to get permission for the widow and children to stay where they are through the winter. The poor woman is very ill; she had a baby born yesterday morning, which is, happily, not likely to live, and at present, I believe, it is just the thought of her children that keeps her alive. She can't at the best be moved for some weeks, and I think if Mrs. Morton could know how she is really situated, she could not help wishing to spare her more trouble."
"I dare say you are right, and that you do Mrs. Morton more justice than I do. But Lucia might be able to help us; do you mind taking her into our councils?"
"Quite the contrary; pray consult her."