"Child, child!" Jane exclaimed impatiently, shaking gently the hands she held. "What do you mean by saying such a thing?" "Hasn't he done all those bad things? He never denied it, not when he was accused in church before every one. And May said it was true." She looked resentfully at Jane through her tears. The older woman still smiled at her and stroked her hands. "But even if it were true, _you_ mustn't take the part of his accusers! That isn't for a woman who loves him to do. You must trust him to the end." Sarah looked at her and then at me. She pushed Jane from her quickly. "Don't you defend him to me! You have stolen him! He loves you. I saw it once before, and I see it on your face now. I know it!" "Come!" I said, taking Sarah by the arm and leading her away. "You don't know what you say." "Yes, I do! You treat me like a child, Van! Why did you have to take him?" she turned and flamed out to Jane. "You have always had everything." "Have I had everything?" the other woman questioned slowly, quietly, as if musing to herself. "Everything? Do you know all, child? Let me tell you one thing. Once I had a child--a son. One child! And he was born blind. He lived four months. Those were the only months I think I have ever lived. Do you think that I have had _all_ the joy?" She was stirred, at last, passionate, ironic, and Sarah looked at her with wondering surprise, with awe. "You grudge me the three or four hours your husband has given me out of the ten years you have lived with him! You hate me because he has talked to me as he would talk to himself--as he would talk to you each day, if you could read the first letter of his mind. And if I love him? If he loves me? Would you deny yourself the little I have taken from you, his wife, if it were yours to take and _mine_ to lose? But be content! Not one word of what you call love has passed between us, or ever will. Is that enough?" They looked at each other with hate plainly written on their faces. "You are a bad woman!" Sarah exclaimed brokenly. "Am I? Think of this, then. I could take your husband--I could from this hour! But for his sake, for _his_ sake, I will not. _I will not!_" Sarah groaned, covering her eyes, while Jane walked rapidly out of the room. In a moment the carriage door clicked outside, and we were alone. "You love that woman, Van!" Sarah's voice broke the silence between us with an accusing moan. "Why say that--" I began, and stopped; for, after this hour, I knew what it was for one person to be close to another. However, it seemed a foolish thing to be talking about. There would be no gain in going deeper into our hearts. "There has never been a word between us that you should not hear," I replied; "and now let us say no more." But Sarah shook her head, unconvinced. "It is two years or more since I have seen Jane," I added. "That makes no difference. Jane was right! You love her!" she repeated helplessly. "What shall we do?"