"Kenneth," she whispered at length, "you must not grieve. I am not worth such love and tears, but I want you to tell me I am forgiven first, and then—"
"My darling, do not speak of forgiveness. I forgave you long, long ago," said Mr. Mountford.
"That is what I wanted. I should not have liked you to say that there was nothing to forgive, because even when I was planning to deceive you on that awful day, conscience was showing me my wickedness, and striving with me, only I would not listen. Do you know, Kenneth, I was worse than wilful, defiant, and disobedient? I was untruthful. I who had always been proud to say, that whatever were my faults, falsehood in any shape had never been one of them. It was so mean, Kenneth, to deceive James, by saying that I had told you I should ride Prince that morning, and not saying that you had forbidden me to mount him until you had made sure that he was fit for me to use with safety."
"I ought to have stayed with you and made sure," said Mr. Mountford. "I have reproached myself ever since for having left you alone. It would have been no privation for me to give up the meet."
"Do not reproach yourself, Kenneth. If I had been such a wife as you had a right to expect, there would have been no need for you to stay. Looking back, it seems horrible that my wilfulness should have made it necessary for me to have a keeper as well as a husband in you, and that if I were out of your sight you were made miserable, lest I should bring harm upon myself. I shall need no watcher now," added Mrs. Mountford, with a pitiful realization of her helplessness.
"But you will have my companionship, dearest. All that I can do I will. I will be eyes to you, and tell all that is passing. Thank God, you have seen, and as I describe the changes that are going on around us, memory will enable you to picture them, though you cannot now see them. My feet shall turn whither you will, and be your messengers. My hands shall be such willing hands in your service. Every day our child will grow more able to join me in loving ministry, and her prattle will cheer you."
"I know, Kenneth dearest, what you will be. My sorest trial is that I cannot see your face and our child's. Perhaps, after all, it matters less about seeing yours, for I can never forget it, and you will grow no older to me, though I may live to be a white-haired grandmother."
Mrs. Mountford laughed at the thought, for Kathleen was but three and a half years old. But the laugh died almost as it was born, as she added with a sigh—"They say that all the other senses become more acute when sight is gone. I shall have to pass my hand over Kitty's face and hair, and measure her height from time to time, and you will tell me about everything, will you not?"
"I will, dearest."
"And when I am a little stronger you will bring poor James to see me, and I will ask his pardon for having deceived him. I shall not be quite happy till I have done that."