"Well, if ever I wanted to be a man before to-day!"
News of the scene went like wildfire through the house, and Alma's mother came to comfort me. In her crude and blundering way she told me of a similar insult she had suffered at the hands of the "bad Lord Raa," and how it had been the real reason of her going to America.
"Us married ladies have much to put up with. But cheer up, dearie. I guess you'll have gotten over it by to-morrow morning."
When she was gone I sat down before the fire. I did not cry. I felt as if I had reached a depth of suffering that was a thousand fathoms too deep for tears. I do not think I wept again for many months afterwards, and then it was a great joy, not a great grief, that brought me a burst of blessed tears.
But I could hear my dear good Price crying behind me, and when I said:
"Now you see for yourself that I cannot remain in this house any longer," she answered, in a low voice:
"Yes, my lady."
"I must go at once—to-night if possible."
"You shall. Leave everything to me, my lady."