Part 83 (2/2)

”Wipe your eyes, Best of all. We're going to have some tea. Can you look like some one with a--with a nervous breakdown?”

”Quite easily. Isn't that just what I have had?”

Mary was defter than Eliza and apparently less curious, and while she came and went they talked, like the outfitter and his friend, about the crops; but when she had gone Zebedee moved the table to the side of Helen's chair, so that, as long ago, no part of her should be concealed.

”Yes,” he said, looking down, ”but I like you better in your grey frocks.”

”Do you? Do you? I'm glad,” she said, but she did not tell him why. Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning, and he found her no less beautiful for their reddened rims. ”You are the most wonderful person in the world,” she said. ”It was unkind of me to come, wasn't it?”

”No, dear. Nothing is unkind when you do it.”

”But it was, Zebedee. Because I'm going back, after all.”

”I knew you would.”

”Did you? I must, you know.”

”Yes,” he said, ”I know. Helen, that girl--Daniel's in love with her.”

”Oh, poor Miriam! Another renegade! But I'm not jealous any more, so don't explain.”

”But I want to tell you about her. He pursues and she wearies of him.

I'm afraid he's a dreadful bore.”

”But that's no reason why you should take her arm.”

”Did I take it? I like her. I wish she would marry Daniel, but he is instructive in his love-making. He has no perceptions. I'm doing my best for him, but he won't take my advice. Yes, I like her, but I shall never love any one but you.”

”Oh, no, you couldn't really. But see what I have had to do!” Her eyes were tired with crying. ”And have to do,” she added in a lower tone. ”It makes one think anything might happen. One loses faith. But now, here with you, I could laugh at having doubted. Yes, I can laugh at that, and more. That's the best of crying. It makes one laugh afterwards and see clearly. I can be amused at my struggles now and see how small they were.”

”But what of mine?” he asked.

”I meant yours, too. We are not separate. No. Even now that I--that I have a little love for George. He's rather like a baby, Zebedee. And he doesn't come between. Be sure of that; always, always!”

”Dearest, Loveliest, if you will stay with me--Well, I'm here when you need me, and you know that.”

”Yes.” She looked beyond him. ”Coming here, this afternoon, I saw the way. I made it beautiful. And then I saw you, and the mists came down and I saw nothing else. But now I see everything by the light of you.”

There was a pause. ”I've never loved you more,” she said. ”And I want to tell you something.” She spoke on a rising note. ”To me you are everything that is good and true--and kind and loving. There is no limit to your goodness. You never scold me, you don't complain, you still wait in case I need you. I ought not to allow you to do that, but some day, some day, perhaps I'll be as good as you are. I want you to remember that you have been perfect to me.” She said the word again and lingered on it. ”Perfect. If I have a son, I hope he'll be like you. I'll try to make him.”

”Helen--”

”Wait a minute. I want to say some more. I'm not going back because I am afraid of breaking rules. I don't know anything about them, but I know about myself, and I'm going back because, for me, it's the only thing to do; and you see,” she looked imploringly at him, ”George needs me now more than he did before. He trusts to me.”

”It is for you to choose, Beloved.”

”Yes,” she said. ”There's nothing splendid about me. I'm just--tame. I wish I were different, Zebedee.”

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