The tension of those wide, childish eyes slowly relaxed, and her head sank forward, and there came the terrible and blessed tears, in wild cataract and streaming storm. And Mrs. Ames, looking at her, felt all her righteousness relax; she had only pity for this poor destitute soul, who was blind to all else by force of that mysterious longing which, in itself, is so divine that, though it desires the disgraceful and the impossible, it cannot wholly make itself abominable, nor discrown itself of its royalty. Something of the truth of that, though no more than mere fragments and moulted feather, came to Mrs. Ames now, as she sat waiting till the tempest of tears should have abated. The royal eagle had passed over her; as sign of his passage there was this feather that had fallen, and she understood its significance.
Slowly the tears ceased and the sobs were still, and Millie raised her dim, swollen eyes.
“I had better go home,” she said. “I wonder if you would let me wash my face, Cousin Amy. I must be a perfect fright.”
“Yes, dear Millie,” said she; “but there is no hurry. See, shall I send your cab back to your house? It has your luggage on it; yes? Then Parker shall go with it, and tell them to take it back to your room and unpack it, and put everything back in place. Afterwards, when we have talked a little, I will walk back with you.”
Again the comfort of having little things attended to reached Millie, that and the sense that she was not quite alone. She was like a child that has been naughty and has been punished, and she did not much care whether she had been naughty or not. What she wanted primarily was to be comforted, to be assured that everybody was not going to be angry with her for ever. Then, returning, Mrs. Ames made her some fresh tea, and that comforted her too.
“But I don’t see how I can ever be happy again,” she said.
There was something childlike about this, as well as childish.
“No, Millie,” said the other. “None of us three see that exactly. We shall all have to be very patient. Very patient and ordinary.”
There was a long silence.
“I must tell you one thing,” said Millie, “though I daresay that will make you hate me more. But it was my fault from the first. I led him on—I—I didn’t let him kiss me, I made him kiss me. It was like that all through!”