Part 14 (1/2)

”She wasn't alone. Mrs. Bagley was here.”

”You wouldn't let her die with Mrs. Bagley, then?”

Mrs. Webbe looked me straight in the eye for a moment, with a look as hard as polished steel.

”Yes,” she said, ”I would.”

I could only stare at her in silence.

”There,” she went on, ”make the best of that. I'm not going to be mealy-mouthed. I would let her die, and be glad of it. Why should I want her alive? Do you think I've no human feelings? Do you think I'd ever forgive her for dragging Tom into the mud? I've been on my knees half the night praying she and her brat might both die and leave us in peace!

If there's any justice in heaven, a man like Deacon Webbe won't be loaded down with the disgrace of a grandchild like that.”

There was a sort of fascination in her growing wildness. Everybody knows how she sneers at the meekness of her husband, and that she is continually saying he hasn't any force, but here she was catching at his goodness as a sort of bribe to Heaven to let her have the life of mother and child. I could not answer her, but could only be thankful no houses were near. Mrs. Bagley would hear, I supposed, but that could not be helped.

”What do you know about how I feel?” she demanded, swooping down upon me so that I involuntarily shrank back against the fence. ”It is all very pretty for you to have ideas of charity, and play at taking care of the sick. I dare say you mean well enough, Miss Privet, but this isn't a case for you. Go home, and let Providence take care of that girl.

G.o.d'll look after her!”

I stood up straight, and faced her in my turn.

”Stop!” I cried. ”I'm not a believer in half the things you are, but I do have some respect for the name of G.o.d. If you mean to kill this girl, don't try to lay the blame on Providence!”

She shrank as if I had struck her; then she rallied again with a sneer.

”I think I know better than an atheist what it is right to say about my own religion,” was her retort.

Somehow the words appealed to my sense of humor, and unconsciously I smiled.

”Well,” I said, ”we will not dispute about words. Only I think you had better go now.”

Perhaps my slight smile vexed her; perhaps it was only that she saw I was off my guard. She turned quickly, and before I had any notion of what she intended, she had run swiftly up the path to the house. I followed instantly. The idea of having a personal encounter with Mrs.

Webbe was shocking, but I could not let her go to trouble Julia without making an effort to stop her. I thought I might reach the door first, but she was too quick for me. Before I could prevent her, she had crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the sick-room. I followed, and we came almost together into the room, although she was a few steps in advance. She went hastily to the bed. Julia had been awakened by the noise, and stared at Mrs. Webbe in a fright.

”Oh, here you are, are you?” Mrs. Webbe began. ”How did you dare to say that my son was the father of your brat? I'd like to have you whipped, you nasty s.l.u.t!”

”Mrs. Webbe,” I said resolutely, ”if you do not leave the house instantly, I will have you arrested before the sun goes down.”

She was diverted from her attack upon Julia, and wheeled round to me.

”Arrested!” she echoed. ”You can't do it.”

”I can do it, and you know me well enough to know that if I say it, I mean it. I'm not a lawyer's daughter for nothing. Go out of the house this instant, and leave that sick girl alone. Do you want to kill her?”

She blazed at me with eyes that might have put me to flight if I had had only myself to defend.

”Do you think I want her to live? I told you once she ought to be out of the way. Do you think you are doing a favor to Tom by keeping this disreputable thing alive?”

I took her by the wrist again.

”You had better go,” I said. ”You heard what I said. I mean it.”