Cynthia was on the point of indignant-protest, but she stopped herself in time.
“I will tell you what he has done,” she answered, “and then you shall judge for yourself.”
And she told Miss Lucretia, simply, all that Bob had done, and all that she herself had done.
“He is like his mother, Sarah Hollingsworth; I knew her well,” said Miss Lucretia. “If Isaac Worthington were a man, he would be down on his knees begging you to marry his son. He tried hard enough to marry your own mother.”
“My mother!” exclaimed Cynthia, who had never believed that rumor.
“Yes,” said Miss Lucretia, “and you may thank your stars he didn't succeed. I mistrusted him when he was a young man, and now I know that he hasn't changed. He is a coward and a hypocrite.”
Cynthia could not deny this.
“And yet,” she said, after a moment's silence, “I am sure you will say that I have been right. My own conscience tells me that it is wrong to deprive Bob of his inheritance, and to separate him from his father, whatever his father—may be.”
“We shall see what happens in five years,” said Miss Lucretia.
“Five years!” said Cynthia, in spite of herself.