Mrs. Hunter. [Frightened.] No! what you have to say to me I prefer my children to hear!
[Clara comes over to her mother and puts her arm about her.
Ruth. I can't remain quiet any longer. George—[She almost breaks down, but she controls herself.] This funeral is enough, with its show and worldliness! I don't believe there was a soul in the church you didn't see! Look at your handkerchief! Real grief isn't measured by the width of a black border. I'm ashamed of you, Florence! I never liked you very much, although I tried to for your husband's sake, but now I'm even more ashamed of you. My dear brother is gone, and there need be no further bond between us, but I want you to understand the true reason why, from to-day, I keep away from you. This funeral was revolting to me!—a show spectacle, a social function, and for him who you know hated the very thing. [She stops a moment to control her tears and her anger.] I saw the reporters there, and I heard your message to them, and I contradicted it. I begged them not to use your information, and they were gentlemen and promised me not to. You are, and always have been, a silly, frivolous woman. I don't doubt you loved your husband as much as you could any man, but it wasn't enough for me; he was worth being adored by the best and noblest woman in the world. I've stood by all these years, trying with my love and silent sympathy to be some comfort to him—but I saw the disappointment and disillusionment eat away the very hope of happiness out of his heart. I tried to help him by helping you in your foolish ambitions, doing what I could to give my brother's wife the social position his name entitled her to!
Mrs. Hunter. That's not true; I've had to fight it out all alone!
Ruth. It was not my fault if my best friends found you intolerable; I couldn't blame them. Well, now it's over! George is at rest, please God. You are a rich woman to do what you please. Go, and do it! and Heaven forgive you for ruining my brother's life! I'm sorry to have said all this before your children. Blanche, you know how dearly I love you, and I hope you have forgiven me by now for my opposition to your marriage.
Blanche. Of course I've forgiven you, but you were always unjust to Dick.
Ruth. Yes; I didn't like your husband then, and I didn't believe in him, but I like him better now. And I am going to put all my affairs in his hands. I couldn't show—surely—a better proof of confidence and liking than that: to trust him as I did—your father. I hope I shall see much of you and Jessica. As for you, Clara, I must be honest—
Clara. [Interrupting her.] Oh, I know you've always hated me! The presents you gave the other girls were always twice as nice as I got!
Mrs. Hunter. [Sympathetically.] Come here, darling.
[Clara goes and puts her arms about her mother's neck.