have caused you acute suffering and wrung your
tender heart, which I would have saved from sorrow
at the cost of my life. I can now only own my fault
and express my deep regret. I dare not ask you to
forgive my barbarity."
"Believe me, dear Miss Mountford,"
"Your devoted servant,"
"JOHN TORRANCE."
Kathleen's eyes were moist as she finished reading Captain Jack's effusion. Coming as a sequel to her previous train of thought, it was calculated to produce a great impression on the mind of a romantic girl, already predisposed in the writer's favour.
To Kathleen the letter opened a view of Captain Torrance's inner self which agreed with her own fanciful conception of his character. Of course he had acted on the spur of the moment in sending what he did, but second thoughts had shown him that he had made a mistake; no doubt he knew her poor mother's story, though it was not likely that an event which had happened so many years before, and when he was out of England, would at first come into his mind. Her refusal of his offering and reply to his letter would bring back the half-forgotten tale, and then how sorry he had been! To think that for a month he had grieved about his mistake—Kathleen could use no harsher word in mentally referring to it, and would have acknowledged it, but could not find courage to write. And now he had written, his regret and self-reproach were touching in the extreme.