Part 20 (2/2)
”Perhaps. I don't know.... You mean, if I have I'm to say it now. I can't come again.... You're not going to forgive me?”
”Forgive? Certainly, if there is anything to forgive. I had no thought otherwise.”
”I'm not to come again, though. You mean that?”
”I fail to see the object.... To use an expression of your own, it's desecration to disturb the corpse.”
”Even if--”
”Let's not argue about nothing. I'm not cursed with nerves ordinarily, but there are times--” She arose slowly, stood there beside her chair, gracefully slender, gracefully imperious. ”You've chosen deliberately, you know.”
”Yes, I know.” Armstrong too had arisen in his dismissal, involuntarily obedient. ”But you said, before I told you, before you understood, that afterward, perhaps--You remember you said that?”
”Yes; I remember. Things are changed now, though. What I had in mind you've answered yourself.... One thing I would like to ask, however, one thing that I hope you will answer truly, no matter whether it hurts me or not. It's this: Was I to blame in any way whatever, by word or act or suggestion, for your losing your place in the University? Will you answer me that--and truly?”
From the chair where he had thrown it down Armstrong took up the long ulster and b.u.t.toned it mechanically to his throat.
”No, Elice,” he repeated; ”you're not at fault in any way, by word or act or suggestion. There's no one at fault except myself.”
”Thank you. I would always have feared, if I hadn't asked, that somehow unintentionally--” She was silent.
Armstrong hesitated, waiting until there was no longer hope.
”You have nothing else you wish to say, then?” he asked at last.
”Nothing; unless it is this, that you know already: I shall always believe in you, Steve, always.”
”Believe in me!” The shade of the old ironic smile did duty. ”You think I shall still become wealthy and famous?”
”Perhaps not,” swiftly. ”I never demanded either qualification of you.
Why should I lie now? Both are right and desirable in their place, provided they come normally; but their place is second, not first. You know what I mean. I believe that you will always be clean and fair and likeable--always.”
Involuntarily the man turned away, until his face was hidden.
”You believe this, and still--you don't give advice or--or warning?”
”I repeat, I believe in you. Even if it weren't an insult advice would not be necessary.”
A last second they stood there, so near, so very near together and still so infinitely far apart. Dully, almost ploddingly, the man turned to leave.
”Thank you, Elice,” he said. ”That's probably the last kind word I'll hear for a long time. Perhaps, too, it's justified, perhaps--who knows?
Good-night and--good-bye.”
The girl did not follow him, did not move.
”Good-bye, Steve,” she echoed.
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