That thought was both sweet and bitter: sweet, as a
retribution; and bitter, because he was Bob's father. She realized, now,
that Bob knew these things, and she respected and loved him the more,
if that were possible, because he had refrained from speaking of them to
her. And now another thought came, and though she put it resolutely from
her, persisted. Was she not justified now in marrying him? The reasoning
was false, so she told herself. She had no right to separate Bob from
his father, whatever his father might be. Did not she still love Jethro
Bass? Yes, but he had renounced his ways. Her heart swelled gratefully
as she spoke the words to herself, and she reflected that he, at least,
had never been a hypocrite.

Of one thing she was sure, now. In the matter of the school she had
right on her side, and she must allow Judge Graves to do whatever
he thought proper to maintain that right. If Isaac D. Worthington's
character had been different, this would not have been her decision. Now
she would not leave Brampton in disgrace, when she had done nothing to
merit it. Not that she believed that the judge would prevail against
such mighty odds. So little did she think so that she fell, presently,
into a despondency which in all her troubles had not overtaken her--the
despondency which comes even to the pure and the strong when they feel
the unjust strength of the world against them. In this state her eyes
fell on the letter she had started to Miss Lucretia Penniman, and in
desperation she began to write.

It was a short letter, reserved enough, and quite in character. It was
right that she should defend herself, which she did with dignity, saying
that she believed the committee had no fault to find with her duties,
but that Mr. Worthington had seen fit to bring influence to bear upon
them because of her connection with Jethro Bass.

It was not the whole truth, but Cynthia could not bring herself to
write of that other reason. At the end she asked, very simply, if Miss
Lucretia could find her something to do in Boston in case her dismissal
became certain. Then she put on her coat, and walked to the postoffice
to post the letter, for she resolved that there could be no shame
without reason for it. There was a little more color in her cheeks,
and she held her head high, preparing to be slighted. But she was not
slighted, and got more salutations, if anything, than usual. She was,
indeed, in the right not to hide her head,