“Your husband and I were talking of you yesterday,” he continued, “and we both are deeply concerned to find how erroneous have been our estimates and how slow we have been to recognize the truth.”
So Jack had sent him to plead his cause, Helen told herself, and in her heart she resented the interference. It was unlike him to intrust so important a matter as this to another, yet perhaps it was a further evidence of the new conditions.
SO JACK HAD SENT HIM TO PLEAD HIS CAUSE, HELEN TOLD HERSELF; AND IN HER HEART SHE RESENTED THE INTERFERENCE
“Shall I not leave you to yourselves?” queried Uncle Peabody.
“By no means!” Cerini cried, hastily. “It is most fitting that you should hear what I am about to say. Do you remember the first day I met you at the library?” he continued, addressing his question to Helen.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and an involuntary shadow of pain passed over her face as she replied, quietly:
“Do you think I could ever forget it?”
Cerini saw it all, and it touched him deeply. “I was unkind to you that day, my daughter—even cruel. I thought I understood, but later events have shown me that my judgment led me far astray.”