"How late you are, George!" she exclaimed. "I was almost frightened. Have you been teaching your night class all these hours?"
"No, 'tis not a class night. I have been roaming the streets, full of thought, but idle of purpose. I let myself drift with the crowd, and went to stare at the fine people going into Ranelagh."
"You! Well, 'tis a wonder. But why didn't you take me? I should have loved to see the fancy dresses and masks and dominos. Indeed, I should have asked you many a time to let me see the quality going to Court, only I fancied you thought all such shows wicked."
"A wicked waste of time. I doubt I have been wickedly wasting my time to-night, Lucy; yet perhaps some good may come of my idleness. God can turn even our errors to profit."
"Oh, George, I have done very wrong," his wife said, with sudden seriousness. "I have forgotten something."
"Nay, child, 'tis not the first time. Thy genius never showed strongest in remembering things."
"But this was a serious thing, and you'll scold me when you know it."
"Be brief, dear, and I promise to be indulgent."
"You know Sally Dormer, the poor woman that's in a consumption, and that you and her ladyship are concerned about?"
"Her young brother called the day you came home, and told me the doctor had given her over, and she wanted to see you--she was pining and fretting because you was away; and she had been a terrible sinner, the boy said, and was afeared to meet her God. I meant to tell you the first minute I saw you, George; and then I was so glad to see you, and that put everything out of my head."
"And kept it out of your head for a week, Lucy--the prayer of a dying woman?"
"No, no; but I am sorry--very sorry. The poor soul is dead, perhaps. I might have been with her at the last hour, and might have given her hope and comfort. You should not forget such things as those, Lucy; your heart should serve instead of memory when a dying penitent's peace is in question."
"Oh, I am a hateful wretch, and I'd sooner you scolded me than not. But you had been away so long, and I had fretted about you, and was so glad to have you again."
She was in tears, and he held out his hand to her across the table.
"Don't cry, Lucy. Perhaps I do ill to leave you--even in God's service; but the call is strong."