She buried her face in her hands, crying. Bertha heard her, almost listlessly; for her own trouble was overwhelming and she could not think of any other. Miss Glover raised her face, tear-stained and red; it was positively hideous, but notwithstanding, very pathetic.
“Then I couldn’t bear it any longer,” she said. “I thought if I begged your pardon I might be able to forgive myself. Oh, Bertha, please forget what I said, and forgive me. And I fancied that Edward would be here to-day, and the thought of exposing myself before him too was almost more than I could bear. But I knew the humiliation would be good for me. Oh, I was so thankful when Jane said he was out.... What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”
In her heart of hearts, Miss Glover desired some horrible penance which would thoroughly mortify her flesh.
“I have already forgotten all about it,” said Bertha, smiling wearily. “If my forgiveness is worth anything, I forgive you entirely.”
Miss Glover was a little pained at Bertha’s manifest indifference, yet took it as a just punishment.
“And Bertha, let me say that I love you and admire you more than any one after Charles. If you really think what you said the other day, I still love you and hope God will turn your heart. Charles and I will pray for you night and day, and soon I hope the Almighty will send you another child to take the place of the one you lost. Believe me, God is very good and merciful, and He will grant you what you wish.”
Bertha gave a low cry of pain. “I can never have another child.... Dr. Ramsay told me it was impossible.”
“Oh, Bertha, I didn’t know.”
Miss Glover took Bertha protectingly in her arms, crying, and kissed her like a little child.
But Bertha dried her eyes.