Part 17 (1/2)
”To you, yes, for you have told me your greatest.”
”Then, with the privilege of silence for both, begin.”
”Ah, you begin already to fear the gimlet! Yes. Nothing is to be told that--There again we lack a definition, do we not? Never mind. We shall understand. You knew her in Germany?”
”Yes.”
”And she--You wear a mask, at moments even merry-faced, but now and again I have surprised a look of such sadness in your eyes that--Is that why you came to America? She”--
”No. She was, and is, in so different a cla.s.s, that I never”--
”You should not allow that to be a bar! Any woman”--
”But even more, there are other claims upon me, which make marriage out of the question.”
”And this is why you have resigned reputation for money-making? Is there no escape? Oh, it seems too cruel to be!”
”You draw it worse than it is, Miss Walton, forgetting that I told you of my happiness in loving.”
”You make me proud to feel that we are friends, Dr. Hartzmann,” you said gently. ”I hope she is worthy of such a love?”
I merely nodded; and after a slight pause you remarked, ”Now it is only fair to give you a turn.”
I had been pondering, after my first impulsive a.s.sent, over my right to win your confidence, with the one inevitable conclusion that was so clear, and I answered, ”I have no questions to ask, Miss Walton.”
”Then I can ask no more, of course,” you replied quietly, and at once turned the conversation into less personal subjects, until the time came for our return to My Fancy.
When we parted in the upper hall, that evening, you said to me, ”I always value your opinion, and it usually influences me. Do you, as your speech to-night implied, think it right to go on loving baseness?”
”It is not a question of right and wrong, but only whether the love remains.”
”Then you don't think it a duty to crush it out?”
”No. All love is n.o.ble that is distinct from self.”
You held out your hand. ”I am so glad you think so, and that you spoke your thought. You have done me a great kindness,--greater far than you can ever know. Thank you, and good-night.”
Good-night, Maizie.
XX
_March 11._ When I left My Fancy, after my visit, Agnes had nothing but praise for me. ”I was certain that you and Maizie would be friends if you ever really knew each other,” she said triumphantly. Unfortunately, our first meeting in the city served only to prove the reverse. In one of my daily walks up-town, I met you and Agnes outside a shop where you had been buying Christmas gifts for the boys of your Neighborhood Guild.
You were looking for the carriage, about which there had been some mistake, and I helped you search. When our hunt was unsuccessful, you both said you would rather walk than let me get a cab, having been deterred only by the growing darkness, and not by the snow. So chatting merrily, away we went, through the elfin flakes which seemed so eager to kiss your cheeks, till your home was reached.
”If we come in, will you give us some tea?” asked Agnes.
”Tea, cake, chocolates, and conversation,” you promised.
”I am sorry,” I said, ”but I cannot spare the time.”