Lavendar had said
in some such connection as this: "Recognize your privileges and be
grateful for the help they have been in making you as good as you are.
To deny what goodness you have is not humility, it's only being unfair
to your Heavenly Father." But William could not say a thing like that;
so he blundered on about Providence, while Helena sat, trembling, her
cheek on David's hair.
"You are as good as any mortal of us can be," William declared, "and
better than ninety-nine mortals in a hundred. So there! Why Mrs.
Richie"--he hesitated, and the color mounted slowly to his face; "your
loveliness of character is an inspiration to a plain man like me."
It was intolerable. With a breathless word, she rose, swaying a little
under the burden of the sleeping child; then, moving swiftly across
the room, she laid him on a sofa. David murmured something as she put
him down, but she did not stop to hear it. She came back and stood in
front of William King, gripping her hands together in a passion of
denial.
"Stop. I can't bear it. I can't sit there with David in my arms and
hear you say I am good. It isn't true! I can't bear it--" She stopped
short, and turned away from him, trembling very much.
The doctor, alarmed at this outbreak of hysteria, and frowning with
concern, put out his kind protesting hands to take hers. But she
cringed away from him.
"Don't," she said hoarsely; and then in a whisper: "He is not--my
brother.
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