A light rap at the door interrupted the sentence. Kathleen called, "Come in!" thankful for the prospect of relief, and John Torrance entered, having been guided to the room by a servant.
The sight of Ralph dressed and in the sitting-room was to have been a pleasant surprise for the father, but this was marred by the boy's excitement. Kathleen wished to explain, but blushed, hesitated, and remained silent. "I'll tell you, father," said Ralph, in a more subdued tone, but still clinging firmly to Kathleen, who, unable to extricate herself; was compelled to listen whilst the boy repeated all that he had just said.
A more painful position for a girl to be placed in could hardly be imagined, and it was intensified when Ralph added—
"Father is here now. He will tell you how glad he will be if you will be my mother. Say you will, darling."
The thin hands clung more tightly, tears again flowed down the boy's pale cheeks, whilst the upturned face had a pleading look upon it that matched the words Ralph had spoken.
On Kathleen's face an expression of combined indignation and distress appeared. At this moment all the gossip about Captain Torrance rushed to her mind, and she thought, "Ralph is his tool. How horrible, when we have been trying to make the child's life happier and better!"
Kathleen's eyes flashed with anger. She could not think of the boy, but with a sudden jerk released herself, feeling sorry that she had not done this before.
"It is impossible for me to remain here," she said. "I leave Ralph with you. I can never forgive a person who could put such words into a child's mouth."
"Surely, Miss Mountford, you do not believe in the existence of such a person. The scene has distressed me beyond measure. It is, however, the outcome of Ralph's intense love for you which your goodness has inspired," replied Captain Torrance. "Your home has been a haven of peace. Your indulgent love and the kindness of your relatives and guardian have made his lonely home and motherless condition more terrible. Is it wonderful that he loathes the thought of Monk's How? I pray you forgive him for loving you—not too much, but too selfishly. I cannot ask your pardon, for I am innocent, and would, if I could, blot this scene out of your memory and mine."
Never had John Torrance looked so dignified as at that moment. Kathleen felt ashamed of her indirect accusation. The angry look faded from her face, and she simply said—