If there was to be a battle on this matter, there should be a battle.
She would display all her anxiety for her young friend, and fling
it in her husband's face if he chose to take it as an injury.
What,--should she endure reproach from her husband because she
regarded the interests of the man who had saved his life, of the man
respecting whom she had suffered so many heart-struggles, and as to
whom she had at last come to the conclusion that he should ever be
regarded as a second brother, loved equally with the elder brother?
She had done her duty by her husband,--so at least she had assured
herself;--and should he dare to reproach her on this subject, she
would be ready for the battle. And now the battle came. "I am glad
of this," she said, with all the eagerness she could throw into her
voice. "I am, indeed,--and so ought you to be." The husband's brow
grew blacker and blacker, but still he said nothing. He had long
been too proud to be jealous, and was now too proud to express his
jealousy,--if only he could keep the expression back. But his wife
would not leave the subject. "I am so thankful for this," she said,
pressing the telegram between her hands. "I was so afraid he would
fail!"
"You over-do your anxiety on such a subject," at last he said,
speaking very slowly.
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