The Presence had begun to manifest itself again, though not as powerfully yet, as at the moment which had brought her to her knees and to conversion. She was moved, feeling very humble towards him; and her eyes grew full of tears.
‘I am sorry, Jonathan, I have misjudged you,’ she said.
The announcement, though it surprised, rather pleased him; for he saw plainly by her look that misjudgment was over.
‘How have you misjudged me, my dear?’ he asked.
‘I—I didn’t think you were always quite straight,’ she said.
‘Straight’: the word had a certain sting. It stirred faintly the slumbers of that small sleeping dog—his conscience, which he was so accustomed to let lie. Then his sure instinct for defence brought him gaily to the attack.
‘Oh, yes, I know, my dear child, sometimes you’ve been jealous.’
‘No, no, never really,’ she said, ‘only I know I’m stupid—so, of course, sometimes—’
At that she left it and returned to her point—the point she had been wondrously cogitating all day in her slow mind. ‘No, I mean straight in quite little things. You see, Jonathan, I know now Martin was right. I haven’t understood you—not properly. And when I say ‘not straight,’ I mean in such little, little things, that never seemed to matter till now.’
This was a new experience altogether. Caroline was thoroughly surprising him. ‘How didn’t you think I was straight?’ he asked.