"Well, my friend," she said. "Well, the time is near."
She took Mrs. Meadowsweet's fat hand, squeezed it hard, and looked with
awful solemnity into her eyes.
"Good gracious," said the poor woman. "I never felt more exasperated in
all my life. Any one would suppose that my girl was drowned in the
harbor from the faces you one and all bring me."
"Mrs. Meadowsweet," said Mrs. Butler, "there is such a thing as having
the body safe and well, and the character drowned."
Mrs. Meadowsweet's cheeks flushed deeply.
"I'll thank you to explain yourself, Martha Butler," she said. "Whose
character is drowned?"
"No one's," said Mrs. Butler. "Or at least, no one who belongs to us."
Here she waved one of her arms in theatrical style.
"I have fought for that girl," she said, "as my sister Maria can bear
testimony, and my friend Mrs. Morris can vouch---I have fought for her,
and I may truly say I have brought her through a sea of slander--yes,
through a sea of slander--victorious. Now, who's that? Who's coming to
interrupt us?"
"It's only me, Mrs. Butler," said Beatrice. She came quietly into the
room. Her face was white, but its expression was serene, and almost
happy.
"It's you, Bee, at last," said her mother.
She went straight up to the girl, and taking one of her hands raised it
to her lips.
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