'We mustn't put it brutally, because it isn't true,' said Helen, ignoring this last inference. 'I couldn't let you take it for me unless I cared very much for him; and I care so much that I can't take it.'
Aunt Grizel was silent for another moment. 'I see: it's because it's all you can do for him now.'
'All that he can do for me, now,' Helen just corrected her.
'Wasn't it all he ever could do, and more? He makes you safe—of course it's not what I wanted for you, but it's part of it—he makes you safe and he removes himself.'
Aunt Grizel saw the truth so clearly that Helen could allow her to seem brutal. 'It's only because we could both do a good deal for each other that doing this is possible,' she said.
She then roused herself to pour out her coffee and butter her toast, and Miss Buchanan sat in silence beside her, tapping Franklin Winslow Kane's letter on her palm from time to time. And at last she brought out her final decision. 'When I write to him and tell him that I accept, I shall tell him too, that I'm sorry.'
'Sorry? For what?' Helen did not quite follow her.
'That it's all he can do now,' said Aunt Grizel; 'that he is removing himself.'
It was her tribute to Franklin, and Helen, even for the sake of all the delicate appearances, couldn't protest against such a tribute. She was glad that Franklin was to know, from Aunt Grizel, that he, himself, was regretted. So that she said, 'Yes; I'm glad you can tell him that.'
It was at this moment of complete understanding that the maid came in and said that Mr. Digby was downstairs and wanted to see Miss Helen. He would wait as long as she liked. There was then a little pause, and Aunt Grizel saw a greater weariness pass over her niece's face.