The idea in Randal’s mind was that the name exactly fitted Mrs. Presty. He made no reply; his eyes rested in sympathy on his sister-in-law. She saw, and felt, his kindness at a time when kindness was doubly precious. Her tones trembled a little as she spoke to her silent husband.
“Don’t you approve of what I have done, Herbert?”
His nerves were shattered by grief and suspense; but he made an effort this time to speak gently. “How can I say that,” he replied, “if the poor child’s life depends on Miss Westerfield? I ask one favor—give me time to leave the house before she comes here.”
Mrs. Linley looked at him in amazement.
Her mother touched her arm; Randal tried by a sign to warn her to be careful. Their calmer minds had seen what the wife’s agitation had prevented her from discovering. In Linley’s position, the return of the governess was a trial to his self-control which he had every reason to dread: his look, his voice, his manner proclaimed it to persons capable of quietly observing him. He had struggled against his guilty passion—at what sacrifice of his own feelings no one knew but himself—and here was the temptation, at the very time when he was honorably resisting it, brought back to him by his wife! Her motive did unquestionably excuse, perhaps even sanction, what she had done; but this was an estimate of her conduct which commended itself to others. From his point of view—motive or no motive—he saw the old struggle against himself in danger of being renewed; he felt the ground that he had gained slipping from under him already.
In spite of the well-meant efforts made by her relatives to prevent it, Mrs. Linley committed the very error which it was the most important that she should avoid. She justified herself, instead of leaving it to events to justify her. “Miss Westerfield comes here,” she argued, “on an errand that is beyond reproach—an errand of mercy. Why should you leave the house?”
“In justice to you,” Linley answered.
Mrs. Presty could restrain herself no longer. “Drop it, Catherine!” she said in a whisper.
Catherine refused to drop it; Linley’s short and sharp reply had irritated her. “After my experience,” she persisted, “have I no reason to trust you?”
“It is part of your experience,” he reminded her, “that I promised not to see Miss Westerfield again.”