"Will you be strong, Gerdy?"
She sobbed and laughed through her tears:
"I have tried to be all the time, Addie," she whispered. "But for you . . ."
"You know, life isn't all your first suffering."
"No, so you've told me."
"And you must believe it. . . . It will help you. . . . You have such a long future before you."
"Yes. Oh, Addie, Addie, but for you . . ."
"What?"
"I should have died! I have suffered so, I have suffered so!"
"And you see so much suffering around you. . . . But life . . ."
"Isn't all your first suffering . . . as you say."
"And you must believe it."
"Yes, I'll try."
Constance entered:
"Am I to see nothing of my boy this evening?" she asked, banteringly.
He took her in a clinging embrace:
"You've got him home for good now."
She gave a sob:
"My poor child . . . then I haven't lost you?"
"Lost me? Why?"
"A son . . ."
"You've always been afraid . . . of losing me. But you never have lost me."
"No, never. . . . Tell me, dear, am I to blame? I am to blame, am I not?"
"How?"
"About Mathilde."
"No, you're not to blame. . . . But, if she comes back, later, with the children, Mamma, let us try . . ."
"Yes, dear, yes."
