Then she remembered how she had knelt in this same place with Brian Earle, and felt herself drawn near to the household of faith. It had been an attraction which had led to nothing, because it had been founded on human rather than on divine love. Now that the human love was lost, had the divine no meaning left? The deep need of her soul answered this; and when she bent her head as the priest at the altar offered the Holy Sacrifice, it was with a more real act of faith and worship than she had made on that day when it seemed as if but a step divided her from the Church of God.
Mass over, she went to say a few words of farewell to Father Byrne, and then accompanied Helen home. It had been a long time since she entered her aunt's house; and the recollections of her first coming into it, and of the welcome which had then met her, seemed to rush upon her as she crossed the threshold. "If it were only to do over again!" she thought, with a pang. When they sat down to breakfast she glanced at the place which she had so often seen Rathborne occupy, and thought that but for her Helen might never have been undeceived, might never have suffered with regard to him. "At least not in the way she has suffered," she said to herself. "In some way, however, she must have suffered sooner or later. Therefore perhaps it is best as it is--for her. But that does not excuse me. If only I might be permitted to make some atonement!"
But atonement is difficult to make in this world, either for our mistakes or our wrong-doing. The logic of life is stern indeed. From certain acts flow certain consequences as inevitably as conclusions proceed from premises or night follows day. It is vain to cry out that we had no such end in view. The end comes despite our protests, and we are helpless in the face of that which springs from our own deed.
These reflections had in great measure become familiar to Marion, especially with regard to the pain she had brought upon Helen. She had been forced to realize clearly that what it would have been easily possible for her to avoid, it was absolutely impossible for her to repair. To Helen's own goodness, generosity and gentleness she owed the relief that had come to her on the subject. Nevertheless, she longed greatly for some means of repairing the injury she had done, the suffering she had caused, and--was it an inspiration which suddenly seemed to suggest to her such a means?