“Yes, honey, I understand--I appreciate all that. But don’t you see, dear, I would have liked to be trusted by my husband, even if it had hurt--a little?” “It was your right to know, mother.” “Perhaps I don’t think so much about that as you would, Rhoda, but--a woman who loves needs to feel that she is trusted as well as loved. But it’s all right now. I know how you and your father feel about it, that you are doing only what seems to you right, although to me, dear child, it seems very wrong. I don’t want to know any more about it than I must, and you mustn’t expect me to help you in the least, but not for the world, dearie, would I hinder you and your father from doing what you think is right.” Rhoda bowed her head upon her mother’s shoulder whispering, “Dear mother!” “Your father and I understand each other better now,” Mrs. Ware went on in tender tones. “There has been some misunderstanding between us about you and Jeff, but this has cleared it all up, and so I am glad it happened. He has promised me that he will not try to influence you in any way against marrying Jeff. So you see now, dearie, that it is possible, after all, for husband and wife to live together in love and trust and happiness, even though they do hold opposite opinions about slavery!” There was a sound of quick, light footsteps across the veranda and Charlotte came in breezily, cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling. “What’s the matter?” she exclaimed. “What’s happened?” Then sudden recollection came to her of what probably had happened and of her own share in it, and a look of confusion crossed her face. Rhoda saw it and instant suspicion was born in her mind that here was the medium through which information had reached the marshal. “Sister, was it you?” she asked on the impulse, her tone gentle but reproachful. “Was what me?” Charlotte flared back. “I think you know what I mean.” Dr. Ware had come out of the living-room and was standing in the doorway. Charlotte threw at him a coaxing, appealing glance. “You’d better tell the truth about it, Charlotte,” he responded. The girl shrank back a little at his tone and something of surprise crossed her face. Never before had he spoken to her with so near an approach to sternness. His large, calm eyes were upon her, dispassionate but disapproving. She could not withstand their compulsion. “Well, then, I did,” she exclaimed defiantly, tossing her head as she took a step forward. “And I think I did no more than was right and I’m glad I did it. When people are disobeying the laws and are criminals, even if they are your own people--”