Strangely enough,
she slept well and soundly that night. Not until many days had
passed did she understand that, though Chester might keep his
promise in the letter, it was beyond his power to keep it in the
spirit. She had taken him from Damaris Garland; but she had not
won him back to herself. He could never be wholly her son again.
There was a barrier between them which not all her passionate
love could break down. Chester was gravely kind to her, for it
was not in his nature to remain sullen long, or visit his own
unhappiness upon another's head; besides, he understood her
exacting affection, even in its injustice, and it has been
well-said that to understand is to forgive. But he avoided her,
and she knew it. The flame of her anger burned bitterly towards
Damaris.
"He thinks of her all the time," she moaned to herself. "He'll
come to hate me yet, I fear, because it's I who made him give her
up. But I'd rather even that than share him with another woman.
Oh, my son, my son!"
She knew that Damaris was suffering, too. The girl's wan face
told that when she met her. But this pleased Thyra. It eased
the ache in her bitter heart to know that pain was gnawing at
Damaris' also.
Chester was absent from home very often now. He spent much of
his spare time at the harbor, consorting with Joe Raymond and
others of that ilk, who were but sorry associates for him,
Avonlea people thought.
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