He read the letter, then returned it to Kathleen.
"I have wronged Torrance as well as you," he said. "I beg your pardon, though, believe me, I did not attach blame to you when we met this morning. I hope I shall have an opportunity of apologising to Torrance."
"No, no, Aylmer, please let the matter rest. I am quite satisfied, and you must see that it would not be pleasant for me, if you treated this simple affair so seriously. I should not like my name to be even mentioned again. I told aunty all about it, and how he met me at Crosspaths Corner, and walked back with me. That was all."
"You are right, Kathleen. Your name ought not to be brought up again. As to the letter. It is creditable to John Torrance, and the reading of it stirred my sympathy, as I am sure it would yours. He may have been and is much to blame in many respects, but he is also much to be pitied."
Kathleen's eyes filled at these words.
"It is like you, Aylmer, to be both just and generous," she said. "When you turned round so sharply just now, I could hardly believe it was my wise and patient guardian. Well, you have blamed and judged yourself, so there is no need for me to say another word on that side. Now I am going to confess."
Then Kathleen told Aylmer exactly what had passed between Captain Torrance and herself as they met him in the morning, and what had given rise to the laugh which had so pained him at the time.
"I was a little wilful, as usual, but I told Captain Torrance, what I would say to all the world about you, Aylmer, that you are my guardian and my good, true friend, not my jailer."
"You make me very happy by saying this."
"How could I speak otherwise of you? Besides, I never can bear to hear people run down behind their backs, much less those I—I—care a great deal about. I felt like this, though not in the same way, of course, when aunty, after reading that letter, would not say a single kind word for the man who had written it. Not like you, Aylmer. You can be just to people who are not at all perfect."