"If it were the child of any other father I could rejoice too. But, oh! my dear, dear mistress, I could go on my knees to beg that you would not bring Edward Austin's daughter to Monks Lea. I can see nothing but sorrow to follow. Like father, like child. He was a bad man; fair of face, false of tongue; an undutiful son, a faithless husband; a man who would use a friend for his own purposes, rob him, and then laugh at him for his credulity, whilst he pocketed the money out of which he had cajoled him. The poison of adders was under his lips, and he stung the hand that ministered to his needs!"
Barbara spoke with such rapidity and earnestness that Mrs. Austin was quite distressed, and the look of hope faded from her face.
"You frighten me, Barbara," she said; "and you grieve me, for how can this innocent and lovely child be to blame for her father's misdoings?"
"Forgive me, dear mistress, if I have said too much, and spoken hard things. You never knew all the wickedness of Edward Austin. The colonel did, and I feel sure, if he were living to-day, he would shrink from the very thought of bringing a child of his to be a sister to Miss Margery. You ask me, how can the child be to blame for her father's doings? Poor thing! If she had to carry the burden of his faults, she would indeed be heavily weighted! But I did not mean that; I only meant to say that you cannot expect good fruit from a corrupt tree. There's Scripture for that,—'Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?' This child is a shoot from a corrupt tree, and she will bring no blessing with her. Do not take her, mistress dear! If you do, she will be as the cuckoo in the nest, and injure your own darling."
"But, Barbara, I do not think you understand, or that those Scripture words have the meaning you put upon them. Surely they refer to the doings of the wicked, not to their children. 'Ye shall know them by their fruits,' refers to their actions, not to their offspring," replied Mrs. Austin.
"I may be wrong in this matter, but I am not mistaken about the character of this child's father. As a young man, he had such a face that a painter might have chosen it as a model for an angel's. I would rather have seen the child's resemble her mother's, for she was a good, true woman by all accounts, though her looks were nothing to boast of," replied Barbara, still unconvinced.
"Then why not take the charitable side, and believe that while the father's beauty has descended to the little one, the mother's goodness and truth have been her heritage also?"
By this question Mrs. Austin turned Barbara's arguments against herself, and the nurse was unable to answer them. For a few moments she stood in silence, then replied—
"You are wiser and cleverer than I am, dear mistress, and far better, too, for you are of those who 'think no evil,' and strive to find and cherish good in all things. I cannot prove that you are mistaken in this case. Indeed, it is just of your goodness and patience, that you allow me, your humble servant, to speak with such plainness and freedom. But you know how I love you and yours, and you bear with me for the sake of all that has come and gone during the lives we have mostly spent together. And now it is not for me to battle with your wishes, or trouble you with my impetuous tongue, especially when I have no sounder argument to offer than I have urged already. Yet sometimes the instinct born of love is worth more than learning, and there is that in me which says, as plainly as ever voice uttered words, 'It will be for evil to you and Miss Margery, and not for good, if you bring the child of Edward Austin under this roof.'"
Mrs. Austin could not help being deeply impressed by Barbara's words, and touched by her faith in these inward impressions; but she was too anxious to try the effect of a child's companionship on her own daughter to be turned from her purpose by them.