“You are a good woman, and a brave woman,” he said, and with this somewhat surprising tribute he took his departure instantly.

Cynthia was left to her thoughts, and these were harassing and sorrowful enough.  One idea, however, persisted through them all.  Mr. Worthington, whose power she had lived long enough in Brampton to know, was an unjust man and a hypocrite.  That thought was both sweet and bitter:  sweet, as a retribution; and bitter, because he was Bob’s father.  She realized, now, that Bob knew these things, and she respected and loved him the more, if that were possible, because he had refrained from speaking of them to her.  And now another thought came, and though she put it resolutely from her, persisted.  Was she not justified now in marrying him?  The reasoning was false, so she told herself.  She had no right to separate Bob from his father, whatever his father might be.  Did not she still love Jethro Bass?  Yes, but he had renounced his ways.  Her heart swelled gratefully as she spoke the words to herself, and she reflected that he, at least, had never been a hypocrite.

Of one thing she was sure, now.  In the matter of the school she had right on her side, and she must allow Judge Graves to do whatever he thought proper to maintain that right.  If Isaac D. Worthington’s character had been different, this would not have been her decision.  Now she would not leave Brampton in disgrace, when she had done nothing to merit it.  Not that she believed that the judge would prevail against such mighty odds.  So little did she think so that she fell, presently, into a despondency which in all her troubles had not overtaken her—­the despondency which comes even to the pure and the strong when they feel the unjust strength of the world against them.  In this state her eyes fell on the letter she had started to Miss Lucretia Penniman, and in desperation she began to write.

It was a short letter, reserved enough, and quite in character.  It was right that she should defend herself, which she did with dignity, saying that she believed the committee had no fault to find with her duties, but that Mr. Worthington had seen fit to bring influence to bear upon them because of her connection with Jethro Bass.

It was not the whole truth, but Cynthia could not bring herself to write of that other reason.  At the end she asked, very simply, if Miss Lucretia could find her something to do in Boston in case her dismissal became certain.  Then she put on her coat, and walked to the postoffice to post the letter, for she resolved that there could be no shame without reason for it.  There was a little more color in her cheeks, and she held her head high, preparing to be slighted.  But she was not slighted, and got more salutations, if anything, than usual.  She was, indeed, in the right not to hide her head, and policy alone would have forbade it, had Cynthia thought of policy.

CHAPTER XV