The same point impressed Lucy. She felt herself bound to tell the plain truth to those who were now harbouring Clementina, and whose actions might decide that unhappy woman’s future course. Tom was inclined to say, “Let them find her out for themselves, as we had to do”—a blunt egotism which didn’t influence Lucy for a moment. Mr. Somerset gave counsels of reticence, but did not support them by any moral reasons. In fact he candidly admitted, “I am thinking chiefly of you, Mrs. Challoner, and advising you for your own sake. I don’t want you to have any more trouble. I know how—in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred—such a warning as you wish to give will be received.” That decided Lucy. If something was right to do, then she was not to be withheld by any self-consideration from doing it. “How should I feel,” she asked, “if some morning I open the newspaper and find that Clementina has taken another situation and has perhaps killed a baby or set a house on fire? It would be bad enough if she only made others suffer as we have done; but of merely that, of course, we should never hear.” “‘To care for others that they may not suffer As we have suffered is divine well-doing, The noblest vote of thanks for all our sorrows,’” quoted Miss Latimer, “and I’ve often seen that work in many ways which shallow sentimentalists do not recognise.” “I know that few lunatics who eventually fall into terrible crime have not given forewarnings which, if heeded, might have spared them and their victims,” Mr. Somerset conceded. “But still, under all the circumstances, I feel as if it is our first duty to consider Mrs. Challoner and to save her from the abuse and insult which her interference on this score may probably bring.” But Lucy determined on her course, and she wrote a brief account of what had happened during Clementina’s stay and had been discovered since her departure. “At best there will be no answer,” remarked Mr. Somerset. “That will be very rude,” said Miss Latimer. “I shall be quite satisfied with that,” returned the gentleman significantly. They were still awaiting developments when, a morning or two afterwards, the door bell summoned Miss Latimer to receive a bright-faced, pleasant-voiced woman, who inquired for “Mrs. Challoner,” and asked to be announced as “‘Mrs. May from Deal—Jarvist May’s widow.’ Mrs. Challoner will recollect me.” No announcement was needed. Lucy, who, according to her new nervous habit, had been listening on the stairs, was instantly sobbing in the arms of this woman, who had gone through all the worst which Lucy had to fear. The blessed tears had come!