Part 25 (1/2)
”I've got to pretend,” she said in answer to my question. ”Pretend that you are nothing to me when----”
She stopped short. It seemed almost as if she regretted that she had said so much.
”Go on,” I urged.
”There's not much to say,” she continued. ”I just want to tell you, to tell you in such a way that you'll believe me, that if I've treated you shamefully I've suffered for it. I can't make any reparation for it; you were quite right in saying that it is too late now to alter things. I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I can't say much more than that, though I don't want to take any credit for it now, seeing that it's been practically forced out of me.”
I remembered the way she had been standing when I came in, the tears in her eyes, and the way she had backed out of my reach the moment I put my hands on her shoulders. It would have been so easy for her to have done the other thing, but she hadn't, and I admired her all the more for it.
She might easily have captured me in the first flush of emotion, but she had instead given me time to think and a chance to get away if I wanted to. There was something in her att.i.tude that appealed to my sense of fair play and at the same time prevented me from in any way misinterpreting her last remark.
”Moira,” I said, ”were you crying when I came in just now?”
Her lip trembled a little as she asked, ”Why do you want to know?”
”Because,” I said slowly, ”I've solved one riddle already to-night, and I've a mind to solve another before I go to bed.”
”I was crying,” she admitted, ”only I didn't mean you to see.”
”And why was that?”
”I thought you might imagine I was just doing it.”
I knew what she meant; there was no need for her to explain further. She didn't want to influence me in any way; whatever I did must be done of my own free will.
”I'm beginning to understand,” I said slowly.
”Then you'll forgive?” she said quickly, and one hand went up to her throat as if she were choking.
I nodded and impulsively she held out her hand to me. I did not take it, and she half-turned so that I would not see what was in her eyes.
”Can't we even be friends?” she said, with a queer little catch in her words.
Something snapped in my head at that, and the words I had been holding back all the evening came to my lips in a rush of speech.
”I didn't mean you to take it that way,” I said desperately. ”I wouldn't shake hands because ... that's not what I want. It's too stand-offish.
I'm going to do more than forgive, and we're going to me more than friends, if you still want me.”
”You know I want you,” she said softly with her head bowed shyly and the blushes rising in her cheeks.
I took her in my arms and kissed her.
CHAPTER II.
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY.
Once we had definitely fixed the date of our departure we lost no time in making ready. As the days went by I began to see more and more clearly that it was just as well I had thrown in my lot with Moira and young c.u.mshaw. Neither of them had the least idea of organisation, and they seemed to think that things just happened of their own accord.
Moira couldn't see anything else but the glamor and romance of the adventure, and I found that, for all his cleverness, Albert c.u.mshaw did not know what was essential to the expedition and what wasn't.