But John was an easy conversationalist, and the lunch hour passed not unpleasantly. After it was over Mrs. Temple rose, restlessly.
“Come with me into the garden for a short time,” she said, addressing John; “it will occupy my mind a little to talk to you.”
“I shall be most happy,” he answered, and for the next half-hour he walked up and down the garden walks with his uncle’s wife. She was evidently trying to keep herself under control, but occasionally she grew excited.
“You must have thought me mad yesterday,” she said once, “to waylay you as I did. But I felt so restless to see you; I hated you, you know, because—because you had come to take my darling’s place.”
“I hope you will not hate me any longer,” replied John, gently.
She looked at him searchingly.
“No,” she said, “I do not think I shall. But bear with me for a little while, for I have suffered so much. Mine has been a life of suffering,” she added, impetuously. “No one knows, none but my own heart, what I have gone through.”
“We all suffer at times, I believe,” answered John, gravely.
“But men do not suffer as women do,” continued Mrs. Temple, excitedly. “Men can go out into the world, can fight, can struggle, while we sit breaking our hearts at home. But why speak of it? Anyone can tell what my life has been—look at my marriage?”