“Aye, so they say: but some sorts of sorrow may very well embitter. People talk of the purifying by sorrow. It seems to me that happiness can purify too. We are all sure to get our share of the sorrow in this world, it is the happiness that so seldom comes to a man. Brother Ezra was happy, is happy, poor man, since he does not yet know of the wreck of his home. It was a delight to see him so happy. And she, poor young thing, my heart aches for her! She was in my forge the other day, said she was lonesome and came to talk. Poor child! We are all to blame. Why did we leave her alone? Why didn’t I think of going to see her, instead of merely remembering how bright she was in the forge. We should have looked after her. Madame, why didn’t you do so? You are the chief.” Brother Green’s voice had a stern ring in it, that immensely surprised Madame in her self-contained calm. “I!” she exclaimed hastily. “I had absolutely no control over her, and no influence. She was one of the most determined young women I ever knew, and the least liable to yield to the judgment of others.” “No, I don’t think that was her character,” said Brother Green. “You are taken by the pretty face, like Brother Ezra, and are utterly ignorant of the mind within. Men are always like that in regard to a pretty woman,” said Madame scornfully. “Beauty is a great power, no doubt,” admitted Brother Green, “but people may err just as widely by judging everything from the prejudiced point of view as by yielding too far to favourable impressions.” “Brother Green,” said Uncle David earnestly, “I’m right glad you’re like me, you won’t believe nothin’ ’gainst little Ollie, will you, no more than I will?” “I will hope for the best and that there may be some reasonable explanation of her disappearance,” said Brother Green, looking compassionately at the piteous old face that scanned his so eagerly for some scrap of comfort. “I don’t see what explanation there can be but the one we have already received,” said Madame icily. “Who will break this sorrowful news to Ezra?” asked Brother Green. “Will you do it, Uncle David? You would do it tenderly, as you have faith in her still.” “No, no, I couldn’t bear to see the look o’ death in his eyes, an’ it ’ud come no matter how I told it, when I came to sayin’ little Ollie was gone an’ we didn’t know where.” “I think perhaps I had best take this painful duty upon myself,” suggested Madame. “Well, after all, maybe you are the best person. But remember to deal tenderly with him in his sorrow. You will know what to say to instil some hope into his heart,” said Brother Green sadly. “An’ don’t you tell him she’s gone off with that man Cotterell, for she hain’t done no such thing,” said Uncle David anxiously. “You jes’ say we don’t know why she went away, an’ kinder hint as you’re expectin’ she’ll he home to-morrow or nex’ day. Do you understand?” Madame told no one what she would say to Ezra, and made no promises as to how she would say it.