"What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired.
"We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost as soon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I remember on one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused to retire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for; and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of one of his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried your father with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and the substance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his suffering has made him strong.
"Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in the highest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It is because he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is no sacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest person in the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door any hour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the case may be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will get out of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessary attention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in the world than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortune we should probably never have known what manner of man he is. The Providence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house was arranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and Pulaski Tomlin was its instrument."
"If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her hands together, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't have dragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelings that tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away."
"Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently. "Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lacked stability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the whole matter."
"I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain."
"Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head the idea that you are pretty?"