“And now, Mother, there is one thing more. We may not have another opportunity for a real house-cleaning. It’s about King’s Forest.”
Helen started, but she stiffened at once.
“Yes, Brace,” she said simply.
“There is a girl, a woman there. Such things as relate to that woman and me often happen to men and women. It’s what one does to the happening that counts. I realize that my life has had much in it; but much was left out of it. Much that is common stuff to most fellows; they take it in portions. It came all at once to me, but she was strong enough, fine enough to help me; not drift with me. I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you. I understand. Is there anything you would like to have me do?”
“No. Nothing, Mother. It is all right; it had to happen, I suppose. I wanted you to know. We did not dishonour the thing––she’s quite wonderful.” A pause; then:
“She has a brute of a husband––I hope I freed her of him, 240 in a way; I’m glad to think of that now. She has a child, a little girl, and there were some dead children.”
This detail seemed tragically necessary to tell; it seemed to explain all else.
“And now, Mother, I must go around to Kathryn’s. Do not sit up, dear. I’ll come to your room.”
“Very well.” Then Helen stood up and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Some sons and daughters,” she said slowly, convincingly, “learn how to bear life, in part, from their parents––I have learned from my son.”