“About his gambling?” said I.
She did not move or speak for fully a minute. It was so dark in her corner that I could not see her distinctly; besides, when I spoke, she had quickly covered her face. At length she said: “So you knew all the time? You set this trap for——”
“Both of you,” I said, as I saw that she did not intend to complete her sentence.
Presently she went on: “Then I needn’t explain. What I want to say is—it’s all my fault that Walter did it. He’s down at your office now. He didn’t have a chance to cover, the stock went up so fast. He’s lost everything, and—but I suppose it’s to you that he’s in debt. I’m sick—sick in body, and sick in mind. I give up. I’ve made my last fight. All I ask is—don’t punish him for what’s all my fault.”
“Your fault?” said I, my curiosity roused.
“I wished to be free,” she replied. “I wished them to be free. I tried through James when I saw how certain it was he could never get on with you. Then I tried through Walter when I saw how you were crushing him and Natalie.”
“So you set James to gambling?”
“Yes—and I’d have confessed, but there were the other children just at the age when they most needed me to protect them from you. And—I—I—couldn’t. Besides, he begged me not to—and there was his forgery. I never thought he had it in him to do that.”
“But he was your son,” said I, “and he had your example. He knew how you got the money you gave him——”
“Oh, don’t! don’t—please don’t!” she wailed, breaking down altogether. “If you could see yourself as others, as my children and I see you, you’d understand—No! No! I don’t mean that. Forgive me—and don’t punish Walter for my sins.” She burst into such a wild passion of sobs and tears that I rang for her maid, and, when she came, left to go down-town.