He did not tell her that poor Mark would not know she had gone to him, that all chance of recognition was over.
He hastened her a little in her preparations, however, for they had a journey before them, and he, for his own part, sorely desired to whisper a loving word to his cousin before the end came.
Somehow or other, almost against himself, Valentine found a sort of tenderness mingle in with his pity for Christina. He was so truly soft-hearted where women were concerned, and Christina appealed to him this night.
She was no longer the brilliant, imperious beauty; she was very young, very unhappy and very pathetic.
She did not shed tears, her emotion seemed too great for any such outlet; she sat very still all the way to town, and her face grew tired and pale as the journey came slowly to an end.
In her black garments—the simplest her wardrobe could produce—there was an air of affinity with that dear, slender girl, whose wonderful eyes, and fresh voice haunted him all the time, and anything that could even suggest Polly to him was dear to Valentine.
He was, therefore, tenderness itself to Mark’s wife. No one seeing them together, and noting this tenderness, would have believed that, up to a few hours before, this had been to him a woman he had despised and almost hated.
There was not a trace of the worldling or the courtier about Valentine. He was absolutely sincere, and just as he had held anger and contempt in his heart for Christina in the year that was gone, so now he put aside those harsh feelings and gave her pity in all sincerity.
She touched him sharply, and once she brought the color flashing half-shamedly into his face. It was when she spoke of the past.
“Ah!” Christina had said, breaking a long, long silence suddenly; “ah! how right you were! How right! and how wrong I have been! No wonder you have hated me so dreadfully all this time, but you did not know how you hurt me, did you? And you could not know, either, that I regretted my willfulness immediately. But I tried to do my best, indeed I did, Valentine. Please always remember this, that I did care for Mark, and I would have cared more and more if—if only he had let me. It was a big mistake, and you were right. I have wanted to say this to you ever so many times, but you would never give me the chance!”