“Jack,” she said, almost authoritatively, “if Katharine will marry you, marry her to-morrow and bring her here.”
“Thank you, mother,” he answered, and was silent for a moment.
“We can live perfectly well—just as well as we do now. One person more—what difference does it make?”
“It would make a difference—more than you think,” answered John. “But there’s another thing about it, mother—there’s a secret I’ve kept from you for a long time. I must tell you now. You must be the first to know it. But I want to ask you first not to judge what I’ve done until I’ve told you all about it.”
“Is it anything bad, Jack?” asked Mrs. Ralston, with quick anxiety, bending far forward in her chair, while all her expression changed.
“No, mother—don’t be frightened. It’s this. Katharine and I were married last winter.”
“Married!” cried Mrs. Ralston, in amazement. “Married!” she repeated in a tone which showed that she was deeply hurt. “And you did not tell me!”
She said nothing more for a few moments, and John was silent, too, giving her time to recover from her astonishment. She was the first to speak.
“Either Katharine made you marry her, or you must have had some very good reason for doing such a thing, Jack,” she said. “It’s not like you to get married secretly. When was it?”
“It was on that day when I was so unlucky. When I lost my way, and everybody thought I’d been drinking.”