Part 44 (2/2)
”You said we should be friends,” she began hesitatingly.
”Do you doubt it?” I asked gravely. ”Do you doubt that I would hesitate at any sacrifice--?”
”I don't want sacrifices. I wish to see you happy, and your manner natural.”
”I'm sure I've been cheerful during the past week.”
”No, you have only seemed cheerful; and often I've seen you look as grim, hard, and stern as if you were on the eve of mortal combat.”
”You observe closely, Miss Warren.”
”Why should I not observe closely? Do you think me inhuman? Can I forget what I owe you, and that you nearly died?”
”Well,” I said dejectedly, ”what can I do? It seems that I have played the hypocrite all the week in vain. I will do whatever you ask.”
”I was in hopes that as you grew well and strong you would throw off this folly. Have you not enough manhood to overcome it?”
”No, Miss Warren,” I said bluntly, ”I have not. What little manhood I had led to this very thing.”
”Such--such--”
”Enthrallment, you may call it.”
”No, I will not; it's a degrading word. I would not have a slave if I could.”
”Since I can't help it, I don't see how you can. I may have been a poor actor, but I know I've not been obtrusive.”
”You have not indeed,” she replied a little bitterly; ”but you have no cause for such feelings. They seem to me unnatural, and the result of a morbid mind.”
”Yes, you have thought me very ill balanced from the first; but I'm constrained to use such poor wits as I possess. In the abstract it strikes me as not irrational to recognize embodied truth and loveliness, and I do not think the less of myself because I reached such recognition in hours rather than in months. I saw your very self in this old garden, and every subsequent day has confirmed that impression. But there's no use in wasting words in explanation--I don't try to explain it to myself. But the fact is clear enough. By some necessity of my nature, it is just as it is. I can no more help it than I can help breathing. It was inevitable. My only chance was never meeting you, and yet I can scarcely wish that even now. Perhaps you think I've not tried, since I learned I ought to banish your image, but I have struggled as if I were engaged in a mortal combat, as you suggested. But it's of no use. I can't deceive you any more than I can myself. Now you know the whole truth, and it seems that there is no escaping it in our experience. I do not expect anything. I ask nothing save that you accept the happiness which is your perfect right; for not a shadow of blame rests on you. If you were not happy I should be only tenfold more wretched. But I've no right to speak to you in this way. I see I've caused you much pain; I've no right even to look at you feeling as I do. I would have gone before, were it not for hurting Mrs.
Yocomb's feelings. I shall return to New York next Monday; for--”
”Return to New York!” she repeated, with a sudden and deep breath; and she became very pale. After a second she added hastily, ”You are not strong enough yet; we are the ones to go.”
”Miss Warren,” I said, almost sternly, ”it's little that I ask of you or that you can give. I may not have deceived you, but I have the others. Mrs. Yocomb knows; but she is as merciful as my own mother would have been. I'm not ashamed of my love--I'm proud of it; but it's too sacred a thing, and--well, if you can't understand me I can't explain. All I ask is that you seem indifferent to my course beyond ordinary friendliness. There! G.o.d bless you for your patient kindness; I will not trespa.s.s on it longer. You have the best and kindest heart of any woman in the world. Why don't you exult a little over your conquest? It's complete enough to satisfy the most insatiable coquette.
Don't look so sad. I'll be your merry-hearted friend yet before I'm eighty.”
But my faint attempt at lightness was a speedy failure, for my strong pa.s.sion broke out irresistibly.
”O G.o.d!” I exclaimed, ”how beautiful you are to me! When shall I forget the look in your kind, true eyes? But I'm disgracing myself again. I've no right to speak to you. I wish I could never see you again till my heart had become stone and my will like steel;” and I turned and walked swiftly away until, from sheer exhaustion, I threw myself under a tree and buried my face in my hands, for I hated the warm, sunny light, when my life was so cheerless and dark.
I lay almost as if I were dead for hours, and the evening was growing dusky when I arose and wearily returned to the farmhouse. They were all on the veranda except Miss Warren, who was at her piano again. Mrs.
Yocomb met me with much solicitude.
”Reuben was just starting out to look for thee,” she said.
<script>