I know of nothing more important than Judge
Ostrander's peace of mind---unless it is yours. I will go if you
say so."
"Will it avail? Let me think. I knew him well, and yet not well
enough to know where he would be most likely to go under impulse."
"There is some one who knows him better than you do."
"His father?"
"No."
"Reuther? Oh, she mustn't be told--"
"Yes, she must. She's our one adviser. Go for her--or send me."
"It won't be necessary. There's her ring at the gate. But oh, Mr.
Black, think again before you trouble this fragile child of mine
with doubts and questions which make her mother tremble."
"Has she shown the greater weakness yet?"
"No, but--"
"She has sources of strength which you lack. She believes
absolutely in Oliver's integrity. It will carry her through."
"Please let her in, Mr. Black. I will wait here while you tell
her."
Mr. Black hurried from the room. When his form became visible on
the walk without, Deborah watched him from where she stood far
back in the room. Why? Was this swelling of her impetuous heart in
the midst of such suspense an instinct of thankfulness? A staff
had been put in her hand, rough to the touch, but firm under
pressure, and she needed such a staff. Yes, it was thankfulness.
But she forgot gratitude and every lesser emotion in watching
Reuther's expression as the two came up the path. The child was
radiant, and the mother, thus prepared, was not surprised when the
young girl, running into her arms, burst out with the glad cry:
"Oliver is no longer in Detroit, but he's wanted here, and Mr.
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