Part 49 (2/2)
”She told me so herself--less than an hour ago.”
”That's impossible. Why, she listened to me when--”
”When what?” he cut in.
Frightened, she clasped her hands beneath her chin.
His eyes demanded a reply.
”I--I told her what the doctors told me. Don't look at me so, Peter!”
”You tried to win her sympathy for me?”
”They told me if you stopped worrying, your sight would come back. I told her that, Peter.”
”You told her more?”
”That if she could love you--oh, I could n't help it!”
”So that is why she listened to you; why she listened to me. You begged for her pity, and--she gave it. I thought at least I could leave her with my head up.”
Beatrice began to sob.
”I--I did the best I knew how,” she pleaded.
His head was bowed. He looked crushed. Throwing herself upon her knees in front of him, Beatrice reached for his clasped hands.
”I did the best I knew!” she moaned.
”Yes,” he answered dully; ”you did that. Every one has done that.
Only--nothing should have been done at all. Nothing can ever be done.”
”You--you forgive me, Peter?”
”Yes.”
But his voice was dead. It had no meaning.
”It may all be for the best,” she ran on, anxious to revive him.
”We'll go back to New York, Peter--you and I. Perhaps you'll let me stay with you there. We'll get a little apartment together, so that I can care for you. I 'll do that all the days of my life, if you 'll let me.”
”I want a better fate than that for you, little sister,” he answered.
Rising, he helped her to her feet. He smoothed back her hair from her forehead and kissed her there.
”It won't do to look ahead very far, or backwards either just now,” he said. ”But if I can believe there is something still left in life for me, I must believe there is a great deal more left for you. Only we must get away from here as soon as possible.”
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