She had done so before--however unwillingly--because she was
sorry for Miss Sloper; but she was not sorry for Miss Sloper now--not
at all sorry. Morris had told her nothing about his relations with
Miss Sloper at the time, and he had told her nothing since. He was
always away, and he very seldom wrote to her; she believed he had
gone to California. Mrs. Almond had, in her sister's phrase, "taken
up" Catherine violently since the recent catastrophe; but though the
girl was very grateful to her for her kindness, she revealed no
secrets, and the good lady could give the Doctor no satisfaction.
Even, however, had she been able to narrate to him the private
history of his daughter's unhappy love affair, it would have given
her a certain comfort to leave him in ignorance; for Mrs. Almond was
at this time not altogether in sympathy with her brother. She had
guessed for herself that Catherine had been cruelly jilted--she knew
nothing from Mrs. Penniman, for Mrs. Penniman had not ventured to lay
the famous explanation of Morris's motives before Mrs. Almond, though
she had thought it good enough for Catherine--and she pronounced her
brother too consistently indifferent to what the poor creature must
have suffered and must still be suffering. Dr. Sloper had his
theory, and he rarely altered his theories. The marriage would have
been an abominable one, and the girl had had a blessed escape.
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