But atonement is difficult to make in this world, either for our mistakes or our wrong-doing. The logic of life is stern indeed. From certain acts flow certain consequences as inevitably as conclusions proceed from premises or night follows day. It is vain to cry out that we had no such end in view. The end comes despite our protests, and we are helpless in the face of that which springs from our own deed.
These reflections had in great measure become familiar to Marion, especially with regard to the pain she had brought upon Helen. She had been forced to realize clearly that what it would have been easily possible for her to avoid, it was absolutely impossible for her to repair. To Helen's own goodness, generosity and gentleness she owed the relief that had come to her on the subject. Nevertheless, she longed greatly for some means of repairing the injury she had done, the suffering she had caused, and—was it an inspiration which suddenly seemed to suggest to her such a means?
CHAPTER XXIX.
Breakfast over, they went into the familiar sitting-room—for there was still an hour or two before Marion's train was due,—and it was there that Helen said, with a smile: "Mr. Singleton is coming to see you off: I met him yesterday evening after I left you, and he announced his intention of doing so; so I asked him to come here and accompany us to the train. Of course there is no need of him: the boys will do all that is necessary; but I thought it would look better. People have talked so much about you both, that I would like them to have a public proof that you are really on very good terms."
"You think of everything, Helen," said Marion. "What a wise little head you have!"
"Do you think it is the head?" asked Helen. "I think it is the heart. One feels things rather than thinks them—at least I do."
"I know you do," said her cousin. "It is your heart in the first place; but you must not underrate your head, which certainly has something to do with it."
Helen shook the appendage in question. "Not much," she answered. "I have never fancied that my strong point was in my head."
"Head or heart, you are seldom wrong," said Marion, "when it comes to a practical decision. Whereas I—you know I have been very vain of my cleverness, and yet I am always wrong—no, don't contradict me; I mean exactly what I say, and I have the best possible reason for meaning it. But, Helen, let me ask one favor of you. When Mr. Singleton comes, leave me alone with him for a few minutes. Now mind, only for a few minutes. I have something to say to him, but it will take only a little time to say it."