"Why?" asked Jane startled.
"I'm afraid of the result. Edge says that every sort of agitation
must be avoided."
"I have told her," said Jane, with quiet voice, but anxious look.
"She was grieved on your account, but it gave her no shock. Again
and again she said how glad she was you had let us know the truth."
"So far then, good."
"But Dr. Edge--what did he tell you?"
"He said he had wanted to see me, and thought of writing. Yes, he
speaks seriously."
They talked for a little, then Will went into the house alone, and
found his mother as she sat in her wonted place, the usual
needlework on her lap. As he crossed the room, she kept her eyes
upon him in a gaze of the gentlest reproach, mingled with a smile,
which told the origin of Will's wholesome humour.
"And you couldn't trust me to take my share of the trouble?"
"I knew only too well," replied her son, "that your own share
wouldn't content you."
"Greedy mother!--Perhaps you were right, Will. I suppose I should
have interfered, and made everything worse for you; but you needn't
have waited quite so long before telling me. The one thing that I
can't understand is Mr. Sherwood's behaviour. You had always given
me such a different idea of him. Really, I don't think he ought to
have been let off so easily."
"Oh, poor old Godfrey! What could he do? He was sorry as man could
be, and he gave me all the cash he could scrape together--"
"I'm glad he wasn't a friend of mine," said Mrs.
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