perception made her instantly shrink back into herself. But there was nothing in Mrs. Ansell’s tone to confirm the doubt which her look betrayed.
“Ah—I hoped you knew more.” she said simply; “for, like you, I have only heard from Bessy that her husband went away suddenly to help a friend who is reorganizing some mills in Georgia. Of course, under the circumstances, such a temporary break is natural enough—perhaps inevitable—only he must not stay away too long.”
Justine was silent. Mrs. Ansell’s momentary self-betrayal had checked all farther possibility of frank communion, and the discerning lady had seen her error too late to remedy it.
But her hearer’s heart gave a leap of joy. It was clear from what Mrs. Ansell said that Amherst had not bound himself definitely, since he would not have done so without informing his wife. And with a secret thrill of happiness Justine recalled his last word to her: “I will remember all you have said.”
He had kept that word and acted on it; in spite of Bessy’s last assault on his pride he had borne with her, and deferred the day of final rupture; and the sense that she had had a part in his decision filed Justine with a glow of hope. The consciousness of Mrs. Ansell’s suspicions faded to insignificance—Mrs. Ansell
and her kind might think what they chose, since all
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