her, aunt, you understand: is it my wish to hand her back to--to---- No,
I'll speak no names. But you know I disliked it always, opposed it always.
It is not out of any favour to--to the other side. But she ought to take
all these things into account. Her own position, and the position in the
future of the child----"

Elinor had crushed her fan with her hands, and Mrs. Dennistoun let the
knitting with which she had gone on in spite of all fall at last in her
lap. There was a little pause. John Tatham's voice itself had began to
falter, or rather swelled in sound as when a stream swells in flood.

"I do not go into the question about women and what they ought to put up
with," said John, resuming. "There's many things that law can do nothing
for--and nature in many ways makes it harder for women, I acknowledge.
We cannot change that. Think what her position will be--neither a wife
nor with the freedom of a widow; and the boy, bearing the name of one he
must almost be taught to think badly of--for one of them must be in the
wrong----"

"He shall never, never hear that name; he shall know nothing, he shall
be free of every bond; his mind shall never be cramped or twisted or
troubled by any--man--if I live."

This Elinor said, lifting her pale face from her hands with eyes that
flashed and shone with a blaze of excitement and weakness.

"There already," said John, "is a tremendous condition--if you live! Who
can make sure that they will live? We must all die--some sooner, some
later--and you wearing yourself out with excitement, that never were
strong; you exposing your heart, the weakest organ----"

"John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, grasping him by the arm, "you are talking
nonsense, you don't know what you are saying. My darling! she was never
weak nor had a feeble heart, nor--anything! She will live to bring up
_his_ children, her baby's children, upon her knees."

"And what would it matter?" said Elinor--looking at him with clear eyes,
from which the tears had disappeared in the shock of this unlooked-for
suggestion--"suppose I have no more strength than that, suppose I were
to die? you shall be his guardian, John, bring him up a good man; and
his Heavenly Father will take care of him. I am not afraid."

A man had better not deal with such subjects between two women. What
with Mrs. Dennistoun's indignant protest and Elinor's lofty submission,
John was at his wits' end. "I did not mean to carry things to such a
bitter