Part 17 (2/2)
”And if you do--what of yourself?”
Armstrong smiled forcedly, a slow, mirthless smile. ”Never mind about myself. I've glowed genially for a long time, tried after my own fas.h.i.+on to warm a hearth somewhere; but at last I'm burned out, nothing but cinders. Never mind about myself. The discussion is futile.”
Randall hesitated; then he gestured impotently.
”Elice, then--For her sake at least--”
”It's for her sake I'll do it, because she'll never do it herself. I repeat, I can at least be man enough to do that much for her, make amends to that extent.” He looked straight before him, seeing nothing. ”She'll be happy yet, when I'm well out of the way.”
”Steve!” Argument would not come, reb.u.t.tal; only that cry that acknowledged its own helplessness. ”I can't bear to have things go that way. I know you both so well, like you so much.”
”I realize that,” dully; ”but it's not your fault,--not any one's fault in particular that I can see.”
Randall did not gesture this time. Even that avenue seemed barred.
”If I could only say something to influence you, to convince you--something adequate.”
”There's nothing to be said that I can see, or done, for that matter.
It's like a church catechism, cut and dried generations ahead.”
It was the final word, and for a long time they sat there silent, unconscious of the pa.s.sing minutes; alike gazing at the blank wall which circ.u.mstance had thrown in the way, alike looking for an opening where opening there was none. At last, when the silence had become unbearable, Randall roused, and with an effort forced a commonplace.
”Anyway, as yet you're reckoning without your host--in this case Elice,”
he formalized. ”After you've seen her--”
”It will merely be ended then--that is all.”
”I'm not so sure, even yet.”
”I repeat that I know, know to finality. Some things one can't question when they're awake. Moreover, I have a reason for knowing.”
It was a new note, that last comment; a note of repression where all before had been unrepressed. Moreover, it was a lead intentionally offered.
”What is it, Steve?” asked the other simply. ”There's something yet which you haven't told me.”
”Yes.” Once more Armstrong's eyes were on the wall straight before him, the wall he did not see. ”I merely suggested it a bit ago. I said Elice had drifted away while I was being patient. At first that drifting was very slow, so slow that I didn't realize it myself; during the last few months she's been going fast.” The speaker moistened his lips unconsciously; but, watching, the other noticed. ”Things seldom happen in this world without a reason, and they didn't in this case.” Suddenly, without warning, he whirled, met the other eye to eye. ”Do I need to suggest more?” he asked steadily.
”Suggest--more?” Randall's look was blank. ”I don't believe I understand.”
”I mean concerning--the reason I mentioned. Haven't you noticed anything yourself, had any intimation?”
”I know nothing, have noticed nothing.”
”No?” Armstrong's scrutiny was merciless, all but incredulous. ”Nothing concerning Elice and--and Darley Roberts--not a whisper?”
Against his will Randall's eyes dropped. At last he understood.
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