Rufus's face was turned toward her expectantly; and for a moment, Greta's soft eyes met his steadily, then she looked away, and her words fell upon his ear with slow emphasis.
"It is that you should be reconciled to your mother."
There was silence for some minutes between them.
At last he said, slowly:
"Do you care so much?"
"It saddens me," she responded. "Family quarrels seem such a terrible thing, and coldness between a mother and son so unnatural. Why should you refuse to be reconciled when the first overture comes from her?"
"One can't forget," he said; "the past is always before me."
"Yes, but that fact should make us careful of the present, should it not? You will not like in years to come to remember that you refused to see your mother. Don't laugh if I give you a remark of Rebecca's. 'People must have sad memories through life, but they need not have remorseful ones!'"
Rufus smiled. "What has become of Rebecca, is she still living?" he asked, trying to turn the conversation.
"Yes, she lives with a brother in London, and when I feel in want of advice I always turn to her. I have written to tell her of our meeting each other again."