Anderson.  I had no power to prevent him giving what was his to his own son.

Mrs. Dudgeon.  He had nothing of his own.  His money was the money I brought him as my marriage portion.  It was for me to deal with my own money and my own son.  He dare not have done it if I had been with him; and well he knew it.  That was why he stole away like a thief to take advantage of the law to rob me by making a new will behind my back.  The more shame on you, Mr. Anderson,—­ you, a minister of the gospel—­to act as his accomplice in such a crime.

Anderson (rising).  I will take no offence at what you say in the first bitterness of your grief.

Mrs. Dudgeon (contemptuously).  Grief!

Anderson.  Well, of your disappointment, if you can find it in your heart to think that the better word.

Mrs. Dudgeon.  My heart!  My heart!  And since when, pray, have you begun to hold up our hearts as trustworthy guides for us?

Anderson (rather guiltily).  I—­er—­

Mrs. Dudgeon (vehemently).  Don’t lie, Mr. Anderson.  We are told that the heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.  My heart belonged, not to Timothy, but to that poor wretched brother of his that has just ended his days with a rope round his neck—­aye, to Peter Dudgeon.  You know it:  old Eli Hawkins, the man to whose pulpit you succeeded, though you are not worthy to loose his shoe latchet, told it you when he gave over our souls into your charge.  He warned me and strengthened me against my heart, and made me marry a Godfearing man—­as he thought.  What else but that discipline has made me the woman I am?  And you, you who followed your heart in your marriage, you talk to me of what I find in my heart.  Go home to your pretty wife, man; and leave me to my prayers. (She turns from him and leans with her elbows on the table, brooding over her wrongs and taking no further notice of him.)

Anderson (willing enough to escape).  The Lord forbid that I should come between you and the source of all comfort! (He goes to the rack for his coat and hat.)

Mrs. Dudgeon (without looking at him).  The Lord will know what to forbid and what to allow without your help.

Anderson.  And whom to forgive, I hope—­Eli Hawkins and myself, if we have ever set up our preaching against His law. (He fastens his cloak, and is now ready to go.) Just one word—­on necessary business, Mrs. Dudgeon.  There is the reading of the will to be gone through; and Richard has a right to be present.  He is in the town; but he has the grace to say that he does not want to force himself in here.

Mrs. Dudgeon.  He shall come here.  Does he expect us to leave his father’s house for his convenience?  Let them all come, and come quickly, and go quickly.  They shall not make the will an excuse to shirk half their day’s work.  I shall be ready, never fear.