"And you have told Kenneth all this?" cried Viola, a light as of understanding flooding her eyes. "He knows? How long has he known?"
"I—I can't remember. Some of it for weeks, some of it only since last night."
"Ah!" There was a world of meaning in the cry. Even as she uttered it she seemed to feel his arms about her and the strange thrill that had charged through her body from head to foot. She sat down again on the edge of the bed; a dark wave of colour surging to her cheek and brow.
"I am waiting," said her mother, after a moment. Her voice was steady. "It is your turn to speak, my child."
Viola came to her side.
"Mother," she began, a deep, full note in her voice, "I want you to let me sit in your lap, with your arms around me. Like when I was a little girl."
Rachel lifted her eyes; and as the girl looked down into them the hardness of years melted away and they grew wondrous soft and gentle.
"Is this your verdict?" she asked solemnly.
"Yes," was the simple response.
"You do not cast me out of your heart? Remember, in the sight of man, I am an evil woman."