"That helps here," she said, passing her other hand over her forehead; "perhaps I can tell you now, before you go—perhaps it will help more."
Her voice grew stronger with every full breath she was now able to draw. Gradually a look of comprehension replaced the apathetic stare. She looked squarely at the priest for the first time since his entrance. Father Honoré could but wonder if the thought behind that look would find adequate expression.
"You haven't said 'God' to me once since that—that night. Don't speak to me about Him now, will you? He's too far away—it doesn't mean anything to me."
"Mrs. Googe, there comes a time in most lives when God seems so far away that we can find Him only through the Human;—perhaps such a time has come in your life."
"I don't know; I never thought much about that. But—my god was human, oh, for so many years!—I loved Louis Champney."
Again there was a long inhalation and exhalation. It seemed as if each admission, which she forced herself to make, loosened more and more the tension of the long-racked nerves; as a result the muscles of the throat relaxed, the articulation grew distinct, the voice stronger.
"—And he loved me—better than life itself. I was so young when it began—only sixteen. My husband's father took me into his home then to bring up; I was an orphan. And Louis Champney loved me then and always—but Almeda Googe, my husband's sister, loved him too—in her way. Her own father could do nothing with her awful will—it crushed everybody that came in contact with it—that opposed it; it crushed me—and in the end, Louis."
She took a little of the lemonade to moisten her lips and went on:
"She was twelve years older than he. She took him when he was in college; worked on him, lied to him about me; told him I loved her brother; worked backwards, forwards, underhanded—any way to influence him against me and get her hold upon him. He went to Europe; she followed; wrote lying letters to her brother—said she was engaged to be married to Louis before her return; told Louis I was going to marry her brother, Warren Googe—in the end she had her way, and always has had it, and will have it. I married Warren Googe; she was forty when she married Louis at twenty-eight."
She paused, straightened herself. Something like animation came into her face.