Mrs. Temple began walking restlessly up and down the room, and then she suddenly stopped before John.
“You came here,” she began; “you took my boy’s place—”
“You know how deeply I grieved for you,” said John Temple; “in everything I wished to consider you.”
“Yet you made love to this girl—this girl, a farmer’s daughter, whose brothers were playing in the fatal game when my boy was killed! One of them may have been his murderer; was I believe; and this is how you showed your consideration for me!”
“Mrs. Temple, this is unreasonable.”
“What is she to you? Answer this question at least; is she your wife?”
“As I told them down-stairs, I will betray no one’s secrets without their leave.”
“If she is, you need never bring her here! You heard what your uncle said about your marrying her, but I will not receive her here.”
“You shall never be asked to do so, nor will I ever return. What my uncle said was worthy of him—the words of a good man, whom I most heartily like and respect—but I will trouble you with my presence here no more.”
Again Mrs. Temple began those restless pacings up and down the floor; in her anger she had done what she did not wish to do—driven John Temple away—and now she was sorely repenting her own action.