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She faced the other fairly, with the look born of mother passion, and mother passion only. "Reuther is blameless in this matter," she protested. "She was brought up in ignorance of what I felt sure would prove a handicap and misery to her.
Smitten with compunction, she altered her tone into one more deprecatory: "My story will be best told," she now said, "if I keep all personal element out of it. You must imagine Reuther, dressed in her wedding finery, waiting for her bridegroom to take her to church. We were sitting, she and I, in our little parlour, watching the clock, for it was very near the hour.
I knew him well, and yet not well enough to know where he would be most likely to go under impulse." "There is some one who knows him better than you do." "His father?" "No." "Reuther? Oh, she mustn't be told " "Yes, she must. She's our one adviser. Go for her or send me." "It won't be necessary. There's her ring at the gate. But oh, Mr.
He was rewarded by a confiding look, after which they all fell silent. A half-hour's further descent, then a quick turn and Mr. Sloan, who had ridden on before them, came galloping hastily back. "Wait a minute," he admonished them, putting up his hand to emphasise the appeal. "Oh, what now?" cried Reuther, but with a rising head instead of a sinking one. "We will see," said Mr.
He says that I should only have my trouble for my pains, and I have come to agree with him. Reuther must content herself with the happiness of living under this roof; and I, with the hope of contributing to your comfort." Had she impressed him? Had she played her part with success? Dare she lift her eye and meet the gaze she felt concentrated upon her? No. He must speak first.
And that was all she could say. As she fell again into her seat, the judge turned to Reuther: "Leave your mother for a little while," he urged with that rare gentleness he always showed her. "Let her rest here a few minutes longer, alone with me." "Yes, Reuther," murmured Deborah, seeing no way of avoiding this inevitable interview. "I am feeling better every minute. I will come soon."
Reuther had been singed by the knowledge of her father's ignominy, she would be consumed if inquiry were carried further and this ignominy transferred to the proper culprit. CONSUMED! There was but one person whose disgrace could consume Reuther. Oliver alone could be meant. The doubts she had tried to suppress from her own mind were shared by others, OTHERS!
And below: You remember the old saying about jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Let your daughter be warned. It is better to be singed than consumed. Warned! Reuther? Better be singed than consumed? What madness was this? How singed and how consumed? Then because Deborah's mind was quick, it all flashed upon her, bowing her in spirit to the ground.
"I am afraid I was trying to cheer the judge," came in low whisper to her ear. "When I hear his step in the study that monotonous tramp, tramp, which we both dread, I feel such an ache here, such a desire to comfort him, that I try the one little means I have to divert him from his thoughts. He must be so lonely without " "Reuther, you forget how many years have passed since he had a companion.
It was a topic he forbore to enter into and I think he only said what he did, to prevent any expectations on our part of ever seeing you." "And your daughter? Was he as close-mouthed in speaking of me to her as he was to you?" "I have no doubt of it. Reuther betrays no knowledge of you or of your habits, and has never expressed but one curiosity in your regard.
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