"I mean a--a fib; in fact, many of them. I--I was just--it was long
ago--and I had to make you believe--"
His soft old eyes looked at me unbelieving. "You don't mean to say you
deliberately lied!"
Now, that was what I did mean--just what I did mean--but not in that
tone of voice.
But what could I do? I just looked at him and nodded.
Oh, Maggie, I felt so little and so nasty! I haven't felt like that
since I left the Cruelty. And I'm not nasty, Maggie, and I'm Fred
Obermuller's wife, and--
And that put a backbone in me again. Fred Obermuller's wife just won't
let anybody think worse of her than she can help--from sheer love and
pride in that big, clever husband of hers.
"Now, look here, Bishop Van Wagenen," I broke out, "if I were the
abandoned little wretch your eyes accuse me of being I wouldn't be in
your carriage confessing to you this blessed minute when it'd be so
much easier not to. Surely--surely, in your experience you must have
met girls that go wrong--and then go right for ever and ever, Amen.
And I'm very right now. But--but it has been hard for me at times. And
at those times--ah, you must know how sincerely I mean it--at those
times I used to try to recall the sound of your voice, when you said
you'd like to take me home with you and keep me. If I had been your
daughter you'd have had a heart full of loving care for me. And yet, if
I had been, and had known that benevolent fatherhood, I should need it
less--so much less than I did the day I begged a prayer from you.
But--it's all right now. You don't know--do you?--I'm Nance Olden."
That made him sit up and stare, I tell you. Even the Bishop had heard
of Nancy Olden. But suddenly, unaccountably, there came a queer, sad
look over his face, and his eyes wouldn't meet mine.