“Mother, it was not my fault,” he said, looking into her eyes.
And for the first time she quailed before that sad, reproachful gaze; it seemed to compel her to acknowledge the truth. “No, Richard; it was your father’s; it was he who estranged us,” she returned slowly. “I was not the woman to forgive deceit. I wish—I wish things could have been different.”
“They shall be different,” he replied gently, “if you will have it so, mother; it is not too late yet;” and though she did not answer, and there was no response to that burst of generous feeling, there was something in her face that gave Richard hope; neither did she repulse him when he stooped over her and kissed her.
“Try to make the best of me,” he said; and Mrs. Sefton sighed, and left her hand in his.
Richard took Bessie out with him after that. He was agitated and dispirited by the interview with his stepmother, and needed all the comfort Bessie could give him.
“It is very hard to bear,” were his first words, when he found himself alone with her.
“Yes, it is very hard,” she replied gently; “but you behaved so well it made me so proud to hear you;” and Richard felt a glow of satisfaction at her words.
“You were beside me, helping me all the time,” he said simply. “Bessie, if you only knew what it is to me to be sure of your sympathy. My little blessing, I think you were born to be a peacemaker. It was you who softened my mother’s heart; before you came in she was so hard, and said such bitter things, and then I lost my temper, and——”
“Do not go back to that,” she said quietly. “Your mother was taken by surprise. She said herself that she spoke hastily. Let us give her time. She cannot alter her nature all at once. You have been very patient a long time, Richard; be patient still for my sake.”
“There is nothing I would not do for your sake,” he replied; and Bessie was pleased to see him smile.