"You are not to find fault with my daughter-in-law, if you please! I allow no one to do that."
"That is because you are not acquainted with her yourself. You don't know anything about her. You think you do, but you are mistaken."
There was no excitement in her tone; there was even no indication that she had a personal interest in the conversation; it seemed to be a mere statement of fact.
Ruth's swift thought took hold of the promise and heard the voice: "This is the way." She spoke with quiet firmness.
"I know all about her; I know a great deal more than she thinks I do."
Irene moved on her pillow so as to get a more direct view of the other's face as she asked:—
"What do you mean?"
"Just that, dear. I know much more than you think, and have known it for a long time."
"You don't know what I mean," the tone was still impersonal, "but I am going to tell you. You think I was a widow when I married your son. I was not." She raised herself slightly on one elbow as she spoke, using more strength than she had exerted since her illness. Ruth came swiftly over to her and slipped a supporting arm under her as she said:—
"Don't try to raise yourself up, Irene, and I wouldn't talk any more. I know all that you want to tell me. You were a divorced wife, and your husband was living; but he has since died. You see I understand all about it."