“If he’s suffered, so have I,” said Medora, “and if you’re in his confidence, I may tell you that I want all my pluck and a bit over sometimes. I knew more or less what I was going to face; but I didn’t know all.”
“No woman ever does know all when she takes over a man. It cuts both ways, however. Kellock didn’t know all when he ran away with you.”
“Know all! No, he don’t know all. He don’t know half what I thought he knew, and what I’d a right to think he knew.”
“Dear me!” said Mr. Knox. “Don’t he, Medora?”
“I’m speaking in confidence, I hope?”
“That be sure of. I’m old enough to be your father, and shall faithfully respect your secrets, just as I respect Mr. Kellock’s, or Ned’s, or anybody’s.”
“Sometimes I think my life’s going to turn into one long Sunday now,” she said.
“That’s a good sign, because it shows you’re grasping the stern truth; and it shows Jordan’s breaking you in. Once you’re broken in, Medora, you and him will come together in a real understanding spirit. No doubt the first stages are rather painful to a handsome, clever bit like you, with dashing ideas, and the memory of what life was with Ned; but only give Kellock time, and the past will grow dim, and you’ll get used to the everlasting Sunday idea. I greatly admire Kellock, because he never changes. He’ll be a bit monotonous at first compared with the past, but he’ll wear. You’ll feel you’re always living in cold, bitter clear moonlight with Kellock; and I dare say you’ll miss the sunshine a bit for ten years or so; but gradually you’ll get chilled down to his way. And once you’ve settled to it, you’ll hate the sunshine, and come to be just a wise, owl-eyed sort, same as him.”
Medora could not conceal a shiver.
“You’ve voted for moonlight and cold water against sunshine and a glass of sparkling now and again—and, no doubt, you’re right, Medora.”