Bessy the latter had not
again alluded to Amherst's absence, and Justine could merely conjecture
that he had carried out his plan of taking the management of the mill he
had spoken of. What she most wished to know was whether he had listened
to her entreaty, and taken the position temporarily, without binding
himself by the acceptance of a salary; or whether, wounded by the
outrage of Bessy's flight, he had freed himself from financial
dependence by engaging himself definitely as manager.

"I really know very little of the present situation," Justine said,
looking at Mrs. Ansell. "Bessy merely told me that Mr. Amherst had taken
up his old work in a cotton mill in the south."

As her eyes met Mrs. Ansell's it flashed across her that the latter did
not believe what she said, and the 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 filled
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 that mattered now was that she herself
should act bravely and circumspectly in her last attempt to save her
friends.

"I am not sure," Mrs. Ansell continued, gently scrutinizing her
companion, "that I think it unwise of him to have gone; but if he stays
too long Bessy may listen to bad advice--advice disastrous to her
happiness." S