Nance, who laughed the loudest, cried
the hardest, ran the fastest, whose hand was as quick to help a friend
as to strike a foe! He saw her sitting beside him on the mattress,
sharing his disgrace on the day of the eviction, saw her standing before
the bar of justice passionately pleading his cause. Then later and
tenderer memories came to reinforce the earlier ones--memories of her
gaily dismissing all other offers at the factory to trudge home night
after night with him; of her sitting beside him in Post-Office Square,
subdued and tender-eyed, watching the electric lights bloom through the
dusk; of her nursing Uncle Jed, forgetting herself and her disappointment
in ministering to him and helping him face the future.
A wave of remorse swept over him! What right had he to make her stay on
and on in Cemetery Street when he knew how she hated it? Why had he
forced her to go back to the factory? She had tried to make him
understand, but he had been deaf to her need. He had expected her to
buckle down to work just as he did. He had forgotten that she was young
and pretty and wanted a good time like other girls. Of course it was
wrong for her to go with Mac, but she was good, he _knew_ she was good.
The words reverberated in his brain like a hollow echo, frightening away
all the pleading memories. Those were the very words he had used about
his mother on that other black night when he had refused to believe the
truth. All the bitterness of his childhood's tragedy came now to poison
his present mood.
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