"You forgive me? I see you do," cried Kathleen.
"I never greatly blamed you, for I could understand how the impression was produced, and was sure you would repeat the story to none but me. Now you must forgive yourself."
"That is hardest of all," replied Kathleen. "Besides, I am punished in knowing that I misjudged a true friend."
"Then let us forget all about it."
The two parted with words of affection and feelings of renewed friendship, and as Kathleen walked homeward, she felt that one portion of her trouble had been removed. Still, the brightness seemed to have gone from her life. In her indignation and distress at Mr. Torrance's taunting words she would have gone to her aunt and Geraldine at Monk's How, had there been no child at Hollingsby. But the little hands drew her homeward, and the first relief came to her burdened heart as she clasped her boy in her arms, and her tears fell on his unconscious head, as he slept peacefully on her breast.
As Kathleen sat rocking her baby to and fro, she was asking herself, "How shall I live the life that is before me? I dread the thought of looking my child's father in the face. My trust in him is gone. Yet I am as much to blame as he, in one sense, for I would not listen to those who were better able to judge of his character than I was."
How the past became present as she sat there! Her peaceful girlhood, with its luxurious surroundings and freedom from care. Her father's love for and trust in her, the tender, watchful care of her guardians, Aylmer's affection, and the self-devotion which placed her happiness before his own.
"I was wilful and selfish a little while ago; now it is my lot to have benefits repaid with ingratitude. I tried to make Ralph happy, and he causes me deep sorrow. I loved my husband, and gave him all I had, thinking that our marriage would be his salvation, and now! How foolish I was! How could one so weak, faulty, and headstrong bring to bear an influence which would change a strong nature like John's? Yet I was proud at the thought of giving my life for the elevation of his."
Kathleen laid her sleeping babe on his soft bed, after showering kisses on the innocent face; then, falling on her knees, she prayed long and earnestly for pardon and guidance; but even this resource did not bring calm at once.
The contrast between former expectations and present reality was too much for Kathleen. By turns she was distressed, despairing, and indignant. It was so horrible to recall those sneering words which reminded her that she had given her love and herself without being asked for either.