Justice and truth before
all things is the cry of it, and let suffering be a means rather than
a hindrance to the end.
"Never drown sorrow," Janet had once said from her pinnacle of
enthusiasm, "the dripping ghost of it'll haunt you. Don't drown
it--save it, learn of it."
Now, with a steady hand, she carried that precept into practice. It
might make a rent in Sally's heart; it might bring separation between
them; but she did not hesitate at that. The cause of justice and the
desire for truth have no need of sentiment.
"And how long do you think that love is going to last?" she asked.
"Always; why not?"
"With you, perhaps; but with him?"
Sally looked out of the window across the river. The night that Mr.
Arthur had proposed to her--offering her marriage--danced
flauntingly across her memory. He had been ready to bind himself to
her for the rest of his life. She let the memory go on, with its
mincing steps, back into the dreary darkness of the river from whence
it had come; but she said nothing.
"You can't answer for him?" suggested Janet.
"Yes, I can," she replied impetuously. "Why not always with him?
He'll never marry. He's always said so.
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