"Child, child!" Jane exclaimed impatiently, shaking gently the hands she held. "What do you mean by saying such a thing?"
"Hasn't he done all those bad things? He never denied it, not when he was accused in church before every one. And May said it was true."
She looked resentfully at Jane through her tears. The older woman still smiled at her and stroked her hands.
"But even if it were true, you mustn't take the part of his accusers! That isn't for a woman who loves him to do. You must trust him to the end."
Sarah looked at her and then at me. She pushed Jane from her quickly.
"Don't you defend him to me! You have stolen him! He loves you. I saw it once before, and I see it on your face now. I know it!"
"Come!" I said, taking Sarah by the arm and leading her away. "You don't know what you say."
"Yes, I do! You treat me like a child, Van! Why did you have to take him?" she turned and flamed out to Jane. "You have always had everything."
"Have I had everything?" the other woman questioned slowly, quietly, as if musing to herself. "Everything? Do you know all, child? Let me tell you one thing. Once I had a child—a son. One child! And he was born blind. He lived four months. Those were the only months I think I have ever lived. Do you think that I have had all the joy?"
She was stirred, at last, passionate, ironic, and Sarah looked at her with wondering surprise, with awe.