“I think more of you—more of you every minute of my life!” sobbed Medora. “So there it is, Mrs. Trivett,” summed up the man. “I’m glad you called and I wish it was in my power to make you see the light in this matter. But we shall appeal to the future and we’re not in the least afraid of the verdict of posterity. There’s no support like the consciousness of right. In fact for my part I’d never take on anything, big or little, if I didn’t feel to the bed-rock of my conscience it was right. And one thing you can be quite sure about, and that is that your daughter is as safe in my hands as it is humanly possible for her to be.” Mrs. Trivett looked at him helplessly and then at her weeping child. “You’re one too many for me, Jordan Kellock,” she said. “You’ve thrown over every law and gone the limit so far as I can see; and yet you talk about your honour and Medora’s as the only thing you really care about. You’re beyond me, both of you, and I think I’ll wish you good evening.” “I feel perfectly sure that light will come into your mind as the future unfolds itself, Mrs. Trivett.” “I hope so,” she answered; “but your idea of light and mine ain’t the same and never will be—unless you change.” “There’s no shadow of changing with me,” he answered. “Medora’s the first thing in my life henceforth and, though you don’t agree with us, I hope you’ll reach a frame of mind when you’ll respect us as we respect ourselves.” “You might stop to tea, mother,” suggested Medora, but Mrs. Trivett declined. “I don’t want to talk no more,” she said, “so I’ll go; and you needn’t think I’m an enemy or anything of that. I’m your mother, Medora, and I’m about the most puzzled mother living this minute.” Lydia went away deeply mystified and disliking Kellock more than when she had come. Yet she told herself it was folly to dislike him. He was no hypocrite, and though his sentiments had seemed ridiculous in any other mouth, they were really proper to his. CHAPTER XVII TRAGEDY IN THE SIZING ROOM Jordan Kellock accepted the attitude of the Mill to his achievement with as little emotion as possible. He concealed his own feelings, and since he did not attach great importance to the opinions of his fellow workers, their jests or silence were alike indifferent to him. He was conscious of well-doing and felt no doubt that the future would serve amply to justify his action. He worked as usual and presently discovered that neither Ernest Trood, the foreman, nor Matthew Trenchard himself proposed to discuss his private affairs with him. The master never mentioned it, and when he met Kellock, shook hands with his usual large friendliness and trusted the vatman had enjoyed his holiday. “You went to the Exhibition I hope?” he asked. And Jordan replied that he had done so. “Our pictures made a proper sensation,” he declared. “I stood by and watched the public for an hour, and the people were more astonished at our water-mark pictures than anything in the show.”