"No, that's the bane of life," she replied. "We don't understand each other. I can't understand why you don't marry Junia. You love her. You don't understand why I couldn't play as big a part as your father--I couldn't. He was always odd--masterful and odd, and I never could do just as he liked."
There was yearning sadness in her eyes. "Dear Carnac, John Grier is a whirlwind, but he's also a still pool in which currents are secretly twisting, turning. His imagination, his power is enormous; but he's Oriental, a barbarian."
"You mean he might have had twenty wives?"
"He might have had twenty, and he'd have been the same to all of them, because they play no part, except to make his home a place where his body can live. That's the kind of thing, when a wife finds it out, that either kills her slowly, or drives her mad."
"It didn't kill you, mother," remarked Carnac with a little laugh.
"No, it didn't kill me."
"And it didn't drive you mad," he continued.
She looked at him with burning intensity. "Oh, yes, it did--but I became sane again." She gazed out of the window, down the hillside. "Your father will soon be home. Is there anything you want to say before that?"
Carnac wanted to tell his tragic story, but it was difficult. He caught his mother's hand.
"What's the matter, Carnac? You are in trouble. I can see it in your eyes--I feel it. Is it money?" she asked. She knew it was not, yet she could not help but ask. He shook his head in negation.
"Is it business?"
She knew his answer, yet she must make these steps before she said to him: "Is it a woman?"
He nodded now. She caught his eyes and held them with her own. All the silence and sorrow, all the remorse and regret of the past twenty-six years gathered in her face.
"Yes and no," he answered with emotion. "You've quarrelled with Junia?"
"No," he replied.
"Why don't you marry her?" she urged. "We all would like it, even your father."
"I can't."
"Why?" She leant forward with a slight burning of the cheek. "Why, Carnac?"
He had determined to keep his own secret, to hide the thing which had vexed his life, but a sudden feeling overcame his purpose. With impulse he drew out the letter he had received in John Grier's office and handed it to her.