‘Oh, John,’ she said, ‘oh, John!’ as if all reproach and all tenderness, and everything that the heart could say of blame and forgiveness and heavenly pity, were in that utterance of his name.
He knew nothing of that which put meaning and misery into her cry. No one had ever warned him, no one had enlightened him, the facts were all unknown, yet something of the feeling in her suddenly stricken and aching consciousness came into his.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said again. ‘You think I’ve been doing something wrong. It isn’t true. It’s very, very strange, to have to defend myself the first time I see you—the very first night——’
‘Yes,’ she said, with an echo in her voice, which made the words seem like the very climax of despair, ‘the first night!’
‘She has put you against me,’ said John.
‘She!—you mean—— Oh,’ cried Susie, turning upon him in sudden indignation, ‘you may think you are taking his part, calling yourself by that name, putting yourself against us; but he never, never did that. He knew all along, and always acknowledged—always acknowledged——’
It was John’s turn now to question. He asked:
‘Who do you mean by he?’ in a hurried, choked voice.
Then Susie came suddenly to herself.
‘We have enough to think of without going back to old, unhappy things,’ she said. ‘Oh! John, I’ve had such hopes of you. I’ve thought you were to make up for everything. We’ve never gone near you to disturb you in your life. Mother said it was better so—to leave you with the old people, where all was so good and quiet, and harm was not known—that was what she said. Oh, how often we’ve talked of you, John; and when she told me you would not have her for your mother, she said there was nothing else to be expected, and that it did not matter so long as you escaped the curse, so long as you were kept good—so long—— And now!’