“Was there no woman at the cottage?”
“Yes, but worn out with work and children. Her night's rest was of more consequence to her than ten nights' waking would be to me.”
“Thank you, Barbara! I was certain I should not prove mistaken in you! But I hope such a necessity will not often occur.”
“I hope not; but when it does, I hope I may be at hand.”
“I was certain it was some mission of mercy that had led you into the danger. A girl in your position must beware of being peculiar, even in goodness. There are more important things in the world than a little suffering!”
“Yes; your duty to your neighbour is more important.”
“Not than your duty to yourself, Barbara!” said lady Ann, in such a gently severe tone of righteous reproof, that Barbara's furnace of a heart made the little pot that held her temper nearly boil over.
“Lady Ann,” she said, unconsciously drawing herself up to her full little height, “I am sorry I gave you the trouble of sitting up to open the door for me. That at least shall not happen again. Good morning.”
“There is nothing to be annoyed at, Barbara. I am quite pleased with what you have told me. I say only it was unwise of you not to let me know.”
“It may not have been wise for my own sake, but it was for the woman's.”