"If you imagine that I did something to provoke John, you are mistaken, Ger," she said. "Knowing me as you do, you are not to blame for supposing that I deserve a full share of responsibility for what has happened. I would rather be misunderstood than clear myself by telling all that passed."
Kathleen shuddered involuntarily as she spoke, and Ger, seeing how deeply she was distressed, could only say tender, loving words, and express a hope that this first serious misunderstanding might be also the last.
"Shall I stay with you to-night?" she asked. "If you wish it, I will send a line to mother, and remain here."
Kathleen thanked her, but would not agree to this, feeling that even so kind a presence would be a restraint.
"I shall go early to bed," she said, "and I am going to have my boy beside me for company. I have told nurse to bring his cot into my room."
So Geraldine left her, having first promised Kathleen that she would repeat nothing that had passed, either to her mother or Mr. Matheson.
"Better so," thought Ger. "One may reasonably hope, that as some years have passed before a first quarrel, there will be no speedy repetition of it. Interference would do harm, and the meddler would share the usual fate of those who come between husband and wife."
There is nothing harder or more embarrassing than the first meeting after a quarrel and an angry parting between friends, lovers, or a married pair. With a longing for reconciliation, comes unwillingness to make the first advance, or doubt as to its being accepted. Cruel words and deeds may be regretted, but pride may prevent the fault being acknowledged. Each may determine that the other shall yield, so the breach widens until it becomes impassable.
Kathleen had been cruelly taunted, and her husband's words would never be forgotten. On the other hand, she remembered her own fits of passion; but she could say, "I have tried to conquer them, for my child's sake especially. And John is so much older. Besides, he is quite cool, and his taunts, softly uttered and with a smile, maddened me." Then love pleaded. "He is my husband, my baby's father. I have to live with him. He was sorry before he left home." Kathleen wept, thought, prayed, and at last forgot her trouble in sleep.
The following day passed without Mr. Torrance. Then came a telegram. He would be home the next afternoon, and a carriage was to meet him at the station.