‘I must not dream of banishing my sister from the home which my supposed death has made her mistress of,’ said I. ‘She could not now live in the same house with me. She is friendless in the world, as I should be were you not my friend. If I claim my own, what is to become of her?’
‘But your children!’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee.
‘Oh, my children!’ I cried.
‘Your estrangement from them, your estrangement from your husband is not to be thought of,’ said Mrs. Lee; ‘it is a terrible calamity to befall your sister, but your children’s claims upon you are greater than your sister’s.’
I shook my head.
‘And your husband has claims too,’ continued she. ‘He believes you dead. If he knew you to be alive, would not his love eagerly claim you and possess you, in spite of what has come between your hearts through the silence of three years?’
I stared through the window, making no answer.
‘It is quite certain,’ said Mrs. Lee, ‘that you cannot be separated from your children. You have a home, and it is your duty to occupy it. Now what passed in my mind last night is this: you are very dear to me, Agnes, but I must not keep you away from your husband and children. Yet when you go I shall be companionless and I know I shall find it very hard indeed to replace you. But your sister is certain to be like you. You are twins, and from what you have told me of her I am sure you differ but little in character. Let her take your place here. She will be dear to me for your sake, and if she has even but a little of the sweetness you have told me of we shall be happy together.’
‘Dear Mrs. Lee, my sister is now a wife. I must leave her so. I am the stronger by my rights, and the stronger by my love, and the sacrifice must be mine.’
‘You think nobly and God will bless you,’ said she; ‘but your sister is not your children, and it is of your children that I am thinking.’