“I believe you did. Still, he must have been a great disappointment to a fine specimen like you.”
The compliment was repeated in her appreciative, uplifted gaze. But he felt far from pleased.
“You will oblige me by not referring to Jack’s infirmity again. He was the only creature I’ve had to love since my mother, and I loved him as he was. You and I, Catherine, should be the last to depreciate him for what he symbolized.”
“Symbolized? Oh, don’t tell me that again!”
“Your criticism forces me to remind you. Outwardly our son was the symbol of our malformed union.”
“John, what a grim thought!”
“Grim as the inheritance law—even to the third and fourth generation. He paid the price in his person of our crime in giving him birth. Through our fault, not his own, his body was warped and his temper uncertain. I often remembered when I looked at him—remembered that no amount of love was enough to atone for the wrong we had done him. I, for one, am grateful that we three were spared the greater punishment. So easily, in the sardonic scheme of things, the soul of him, too, might have been warped. But his was as gallant and large and sweet as ever outgrew injustice.”
The implications against herself had turned Catherine to one of the many mirrors conveniently placed.
“How can you take such stern pride in your loyalty? You used to say, you know, that you loved me.”
He, also, studied her reflection.