Without leaving time for reply, she moved back to her former place, and went on with what she had been saying, as though that sudden soft interpolated whisper had not existed. "Yes--this strange double feeling that I have about Frederick Owen makes me even feel sorry for him at times, sorry to have him suffer as I know he must be suffering, sorry to have him think what I know he must be thinking of you; and also of me. For he thinks that you had a liking for a man whom he considered unworthy to speak your name (oh, detestable arrogance!); he thinks that it was clandestine, that you dared not tell your father; and that I was protecting you in it as well as I could; all this, of course, he must believe. Death has put an end to it, and now it will never be known; this also he is thinking. But, meanwhile, _he_ knows it. And he cannot forget it. He thinks you have in your heart the same feeling still. But I remembered--I did what I could for you by telling him that it was but a fancy of the moment, that it would pass." "Oh!" murmured Sara, with a quick, involuntary gesture of repulsion; then she stopped. "I was trying to pave a way out of it for you. You do not like the way, because it includes--includes the supposition that you--But one can never please you, Sara Carroll!" She rose and began to walk swiftly to and fro across the room, her footsteps making no sound on the thick, faded, old-fashioned carpet--a relic from the days of the Sea Island Carrolls. "What do you want me to do?" she said, abruptly, as she passed Sara for the fourth time. "If you are alluding to Mr. Owen, I don't want you to do anything," answered Miss Carroll. "Oh, you are proud! For the present nothing can be done. But let me tell you one thing--do not be _too_ repellent. 'Tis good in me to warn you, to take his part, when I hate him so--hate him for what he said. Do you suppose I would have had him reading prayers over my poor dead boy after what had passed? Never in the world. No one who despised him should come near him. So I had the Baptist minister. I was a Baptist myself when I was a girl--if I ever was a girl! All this hurts _you_, of course; but I cannot help it. Be patient. Some day I shall forgive him. Perhaps soon." She had paused in front of Sara as she said this, for they had both been guardedly careful to speak in the lowest tones. The girl left her place on the sofa; she rose and walked beside her stepmother as she resumed her quick, restless journey to and fro across the floor. They came and went in silence for many minutes. Then Sara put her arm round Madam Carroll, and drew her towards the sofa again. "Rest awhile, mamma," she said, placing the cushions so that she could lie easily; "you do not know how very tired you are." And Madam Carroll for a half-hour yielded.