"There is a good fire in your boudoir, ma'am."
This was the little upstairs sitting-room which had been the scene of what Kathleen now regarded as her humiliating self-surrender. She shuddered at the thought of crossing its threshold.
"I prefer staying here," she replied. "It is equally comfortable, and, as I am not feeling very well, I shall probably lie down for awhile."
The food was brought, and Kathleen took a little, though without appetite.
"I must keep health and life if I can, for my baby's sake," she thought.
The parlour-maid who waited on Kathleen said, "I am sorry I forgot to tell you, ma'am, that Miss Ellicott called directly after you went out. As you were not in, she came again on her way home. That was just when master was starting for the station. He told Miss Ellicott that he was going off for the night, and said maybe she would spend an hour with you this evening, as you would be by yourself. She said she would come across after dinner."
Kathleen scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry at the prospect of seeing Ger. It would be difficult to look cheerful, or to hide the tell-tale traces of tears. She did not wish to repeat the story of her trouble, even in such sympathetic ears. How, indeed, could she repeat those cruel, taunting words, the very memory of which made her face glow with the flush of shame? Besides, it were better that none should come between her and John.
Husband and wife would best settle their differences without calling in a mediator, and Kathleen felt that hers was no case for mediation. It was one of cruel, scathing words, of taunt and sneer, and mock politeness on the one side; of bitter suffering and resentment on the other, which could never be changed, yet must be endured in silence, and with such courage and patience as she could command.
There was an interval during which Kathleen's thoughts went back to her mother's story, her fault, punishment, penalty and final peace.
"She paid by the wreck of her physical strength, but she was forgiven, and her days of suffering cheered by my father's tenderest love. I have wrecked my life in a worse manner, and I shall never have a like consolation."