"Yes."
"You did not tell me—you went away from me.
"Not from you, Mother—from father. How could I have spoken?"
"You are right."
She hesitated a moment, then wished to defend herself, although she had not been accused.
"It is too late. After thirty-two years of marriage. On account of you and your brothers, for the sake of their careers, my hands are tied. What should I have done? I said nothing. He did not even notice it. He is somewhat selfish. Still I have suffered terribly. My ideals are shattered."
"Dear Mother, let us say no more. Lean on me. Let me soothe you, as if I were your mother."
"No. Listen. You must know about it. He is not entirely to blame. When he was in the army and his post was changed, I insisted that he resign. He had nothing to do, and was very attractive. I wanted to live—I did wrong. We are often responsible for the sorrows which crush us."
"Oh, you did not deserve that grief."
"Now he is ill and old age is coming on. It is sad to think, but old age and illness are working in my behalf. She comes less willingly. He prefers my care. That is something."