Theodore turned away, and walked slowly downstairs, his proud spirit quite humbled for the time.
"I am sorry I behaved so badly," he said, going straight up to his stepmother, who was seated in a low chair by the window. As she turned and looked at him, he saw the traces of recent tears on her face. "I am sorry," he repeated. "Will you please forgive me?"
"Yes, Theodore."
His heart was touched by the gentle sadness of her voice, and he went on quickly:
"It was not true what I said, and it was very rude of me. I don't hate you, really."
Mrs. Barton made no reply, and Theodore did not know that she restrained a strong impulse to take him in her arms and kiss him. He was conscious of a touch of reserve in her manner that he had never felt before, and it made him uneasy.
"Did you—did you tell my father what I said?" he asked anxiously.
"No; there was no need to pain him."
Theodore winced at her reply, and stood hesitating, whilst Mrs. Barton turned her head away, and looked out of the window.
"I am sorry," he said again.