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She read the youthful Bernal's effort to rehabilitate the much-blemished reputation of Judas a paper that had been curiously preserved by the old man. "Poor Judas, indeed!" The novelty was not lost upon Aunt Bell, expert that she was in all obliquities from accepted tradition. "The funny boy! Very ingenious, I'm sure.
He returned to his work, crossing out a whole line and a half with broad, emphatic marks. Then he bent lower, and the interest in his page seemed to redouble, for he heard the door of Bernal's room open. Nancy called: "Bernal!" He came to the door where she stood and she stepped a little inside so that he might enter. "I am anxious about a letter. Ah, you have it!"
It seemed that being with Bernal had opened her eyes to Allan's worth. She had narrowly, flippantly misjudged a good man good in all essentials. She was contrite for her unwifely lack of abnegation. She began to see herself and Allan with Bernal's eyes: she was less than she had thought he was more. Bernal had proved these things to her all unconsciously.
Placidly he dropped off one day, a little while after he had cautioned Clytie to keep the house ready for Bernal's coming; and to have always on hand one of those fig layer-cakes of which he was so fond, since as likely as not he would ask for this the first thing, just as he used to do. It must seem homelike to him when he did come.
The little boy prayed that this hero might be made again the man he once was; not because of any flaw that he could see in him but only because the sufferer appeared somewhat less than perfect to himself. To Bernal's mind, indeed, nothing could have been superior to the noble melancholy with which Cousin Bill J. looked back upon his splendid past. There was a perfect dignity in it.
But it was another thing I wanted to show you something I found some old compositions of Bernal's that his grandfather must have kept. Here's one about birds 'jingle-birds, squeak-birds and clatter-birds. No? you wouldn't care for that? well listen to this."
Bernal's presence kept him from noting how really pronounced and unwavering her aversion had become. Nor did Bernal note her attitude.
One day he and I Santiago, Bernal's father had been drinking mescal. We quarrelled I know not why. It is not well nor right for a padre and a compadre to fight there is trouble in Heaven over that. But there is a way; and we did it as others have done. We took off our sombreros, and put our compadreship on the ground under them. That was all right it was hid there under the hat.
"I see here's a note in Bernal's hand, on one of these old papers evidently written much later than the other: 'The old gentleman says Christmas is losing its deeper significance. What is it? That the Babe of Bethlehem was begotten by his Father to be a sacrifice to its Father that its blood might atone for the sin of his first pair and so save from eternal torment the offspring of that pair.
"Why, Nancy I knew of course I knew he expected I mean the poor boy told me " Here he broke off in the same pitiful confusion that had marked Bernal's manner at the door the confusion of apprehended deceit. Then he began again, as if with gathered wits "What was I saying? I know nothing whatever of Bernal's affairs or his letters. Really, how should I? You see, I have work on my mind."
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