"I do not know. I must leave you to judge. You can judge much better than I. I have no knowledge of the world, or of what is possible. Mrs. Marble tells me there are free schools here—"
"Of course she shall go to school. I will see that she does. And I will see that she is under some woman's care who can take proper care of her. Do not let yourself be troubled on that score. I promise you, you need not. I will take as good care of her as if she were a little sister of my own."
There was silence at first, the silence of a heart too full to find words. Mrs. Carpenter sat with her head a little bowed.
"You will lose nothing by it," she said huskily after a few minutes.
"There is a promise somewhere—"
But with that she broke down and cried.
"I don't know what you will do with her!" she said; "nor what anybody will do with her, except her mother. She is a wayward child; passionate; strong, and also weak, on the side of her affections. She has never learned yet to submit her will, though for love she is capable of great devotion. She has shewed it to me this past winter."
"Is there any other sort of devotion that is worth much?" asked the young man.
"Duty?—"
"Surely the devotion of love is better."
"Yes—. But duty ought to be recognized for what it is."