Part 27 (2/2)
She was disturbed in her meditations by the sound of a quick and firm step behind her. Her first impulse was to turn her head, but she resisted it. The steps drew nearer; the hard road echoed distinctly. She drew slowly to the side of the road, so that the pedestrian, whoever he might be, might pa.s.s her. It was time she turned round and retraced her steps to the Hall, but she would wait a few minutes longer, until the man had pa.s.sed her. Now he was almost by her side. She turned her head slightly and their eyes met. In a moment her face brightened, and her lips parted in an eager smile. He dropped a small bag he was carrying, so that he might grasp her outstretched hand. It was fate or destiny, and there was no use fighting against it.
”I have been wondering if I was ever to see you again,” she said, in her bright, unconventional way. ”You are quite well again, I see. Oh, I am so thankful! I would have called round, only--well, you see the conventions of this old country have to be observed even by an American.”
”And you find them rather irksome?” he questioned, an eager light brightening his eyes.
”Well, on the whole I fear I do. But we have to take things as we find them, I suppose. Discipline, they say, is good for us.”
”I believe that is a generally accepted doctrine,” he said, with a laugh.
”But you doubt it?” she asked, looking coyly up into his face.
”I did not say so,” he answered, jocularly. ”Do you think I am such a doubter that I doubt everything?”
”Well, no,” she answered, slowly. ”I will not go quite so far as that. I guess there are still a few things you stick to.”
”We all believe what we cannot help believing,” he answered, enigmatically.
”Oh, what a profound utterance!” she said, laughing brightly in his face.
”It is rather profound, isn't it? But how have you enjoyed yourself in London?”
”Oh! moderately well. For the first two weeks or so we had rather a gay time, then things got flat, or I got flat. And then the weather, you know, was atrocious. Those London fogs are a treat!”
”So I've heard. I've had no experience of them.”
”Well, you needn't be envious. But how about your invention? I've been looking for your name in the papers. When are you going to astonish us all?”
His face clouded in a moment and his eyes caught a far-away look. ”It is never safe to prophesy,” he said, after a pause.
”But you are still quite sure of success?” she questioned, a little anxiously.
He smiled a little bit sadly, and answered, ”A friend of mine sometimes encourages me by telling me that there is nothing certain in this world but death.”
”Your friend must be a pessimist,” she said, ”and I don't like pessimists. But tell me candidly, has your success been imperilled in any way by--by--your accident?”
”No, I do not think so,” he answered, quickly. ”My work has been delayed a little, that is all. If I fail, it will not be on that account.”
”But you are not going to fail, of course you are not.”
”I hope I shall not,” he answered, seriously. ”But in the chances of life there must be a great many failures. Think of the millions of toiling people in England to-day and how few of them have reached their hearts' desire.”
”Yes, I suppose that is so,” she answered, thoughtfully, ”or perhaps the bulk of them have never had any large desires. But don't you think that most of the great men who have striven long enough have won in the end?”
”I was not thinking of the great men,” he answered. ”It is given only to a few men to be great, and of the rest, if they fail once, their chance is gone.”
”And do you mean to tell me that if you don't succeed this time you won't try again?”
”If circ.u.mstances would let me, I would never cease trying,” he answered. ”But we are all of us more or less the slaves of circ.u.mstances, some more than others.”
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