Heart of Honor Read Free Page A

to do it.” This wasn’t the first warning Heart to Heart had received since she had initiated a change of format that included editorials and articles on education and social issues.
    Last week, along with the usual fashion and domestic topics, there had been an article lauding Mr. Edwin Chadwick’s Sanitary Conditions Report, which called for changes in the London sewer system and clean, piped water—necessary, he believed, for the prevention of disease.
    The expensive proposal was highly unpopular with the water companies, local authorities and rate payers, who argued they could not afford to foot the bill.
    “There will always be someone who disagrees with our position,” Krista told Corrie as she plucked the scrap of paper from her friend’s small hand.
    “You’re going to show that note to your father, aren’t you?” Corrie cast her a look of warning, knowing how independent Krista was and how she hated to bother the professor with problems that related to the gazette. “Krista…?”
    “All right, I’ll show him.” She glanced at the hole in the window letting in the chilly April air. “Have someone board that up and clean up the glass.” She headed for the stairs, the note clutched in her hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    On the nights Krista worked late, her father insisted on accompanying her home. He had arrived at the office several hours ago and gone to work in his makeshift study upstairs. There was also a room for business meetings and one with a narrow chaise for napping if the hour grew late.
    She knocked on his door, waited, knocked again. Finally giving up, she opened the door and walked into the high-ceilinged, book-lined room.
    “I am sorry to bother you, Father, but—”
    “Thought I heard someone.” He removed the wire-rimmed spectacles he used for reading, and looked up from the stack of books sitting open on his desk. He was bone-thin and extremely tall. Krista had got her taller-than-average height from both her parents, but her blond hair, green eyes and more rounded, full-bosomed figure were a legacy of her fair-haired mother.
    “Got involved in this translation,” the professor explained. “Are we finished? Is it time to go home?”
    “We aren’t quite done, but we will be very soon.” She crossed the room and handed him the note. “I thought I had better show you this. Someone tied this message to a brick and tossed it through the window. I guess they didn’t much like my article on Mr. Chadwick’s report.”
    “Apparently not.” The professor looked up at her. “Are you certain you know what you are doing, dearest? Your mother had a number of strong opinions, but she rarely put them in print.”
    “True, but she wanted to. And times have changed in the past few years. Our readership has been growing steadily ever since we went to the new format.”
    “I suppose fighting for a good cause is worth a bit of risk. Just be careful you don’t push things too far.”
    “I won’t. One more article on the need for citywide water and disposal improvements and I am returning to our campaign for better working conditions in the mines and factories.”
    He chuckled. “As I recall, those articles stirred up a hornets’ nest, as well.”
    Krista bit back a smile, knowing it was true. “Even so, I think our efforts are helping.” She rounded the desk to look over his shoulder. “What are you working on?”
    “I’m going over some tenth-century Icelandic tables that calculate the sun’s midday height for each week of the year. They’re remarkably accurate. Earlier I was reviewing a translation of the Heimskringla text.”
    The text was written in Old Norse, Krista saw, the language spoken in the Scandinavian settlements from around eight hundred until the last known Viking settlers disappeared from Greenland in the early fifteen hundreds. Her father even spoke the long-dead language.
    She thought of the hours she had spent as a child in his study, listening to