And, having no mother, he was not ashamed to turn to this motherly heart for comfort. He knelt before her, and laid his head upon her lap, as he had often done in childish troubles; and her kind hands were upon his head, and her kind voice soothed him.
"There, there, laddie, that's all right. You've been badly hurt yourself, and you've been very brave over it. It's not easy to keep sweet-tempered when you're hurt—you know that, don't you, Bundy? Many's the time and oft I've said hard things I didn't mean, because my heart was bleeding. We all do it sometimes. But I think God turns His head away and doesn't listen. Perhaps He couldn't go on loving us if He did. And you know what the prayer says: 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us.' I never understood anything about theologies, and that kind of thing; but I know that's true. It's true because we can't go on living without it. So that's over, my dear, and don't you think any more about it."
And so she drew the bitterness out of his heart, and kissed him, and finally laughed at him through her tears, calling herself a foolish old woman to be supposing she could teach a big, clever fellow like him, until they were both laughing into one another's eyes like a pair of lovers.
"Well, now, we'll write Helen, and wish her joy. And, Bundy, you're going to Paris next week, aren't you? You will go to see her, of course. And we must send the poor child a present. It's a mercy, after all, she hasn't got into worse mischief than getting married to an old Frenchman. And perhaps he may make her a good husband, there's no telling—even though he is a Frenchman. And now I've a surprise for you. What do you think it is?"
"Something pleasant, no doubt."
"Well, it ought to be. Vickars and Elizabeth are coming to lunch. And you must stay, of course. And after lunch you can talk to Elizabeth, and we old folk will go away and talk about you, and see what can be done for you."
"Yes," said Bundy. "It's all very well for your father to work for Grimes; but you have to get to work too. Ah! there's the bell. That'll be Vickars, so we'll postpone that business."
It was a delightful lunch. For the first time since his return to England Arthur attained a real cheerfulness. In this atmosphere of warm affection it was impossible to think too urgently of past griefs. And it did seem as if the black shadow was at last rolling off, like a rain-cloud with trailing skirts edged with pure light.
Vickars, to his surprise, took quite a cheerful view of Helen's marriage.
"What Helen always needed was duties," he remarked. "Duties give poise and ballast to life. I suppose, ever since she left school, she has had no real duties to fulfil, and nothing makes people so selfish as a total absence of some kind of daily duty. If marriage does nothing else, it does impose duties on men and women. It takes them out of themselves, makes them look outward instead of inward, which is always a great thing."