'I am speaking of myself now. I am driven to speak of myself by the bitterness of your words. It was you who decided.'
'You accepted my decision easily.'
'Because it was based not only on my unfitness for such a marriage, but on yours. When I saw that there would be perhaps some years of misery for you, of course I accepted your decision.
The sweetness had been very sweet to me.'
'Oh Frank, was it ever sweet to you?'
'And the triumph of it had been very great. I had been assured of the love of her who among all the high ones of the world seemed to me to be the highest. Then came your decision. Do you really believe that I could abandon the sweetness, that I could be robbed of my triumph, that I could think I could never again be allowed to put my arm round your waist, never again feel your cheek close to mine, that I should lose all that had seemed left to me among the gods, without feeling it?'
'Frank, Frank!' she said, rising to her feet, and stretching out her hands as though she were going to give him back all these joys.
'Of course I felt it. I did not then know what was before me.'
When he said this she sank immediately back upon her seat. 'I was wretched enough. I had lost a limb and could not walk; my eyes, and must always hereafter be blind; my fitness to be among men, and must always hereafter be secluded. It is so that a man is stricken down when some terrible trouble comes upon him. But it is given to him to retrick his beams.'
'You have retricked yours.'
'Yes;--and the strong man will show his strength by doing it quickly. Mabel, I sorrowed for myself greatly when that word was spoken, partly because I thought that your love could be so easily taken from me. And, since I have found that it has not been so, I have sorrowed for you also. But I do not blame myself, and I will not submit to have blame even from you.' She stared at him in the face as he said this. 'A man should never submit to blame.'
'But if he has deserved it?'
'Who is to be the judge? But why should we contest this? You do not really wish to trample on me!'
'No;--not that.'
'Nor to disgrace me; nor to make me feel myself disgraced in my own judgement?' Then there was a pause for some moments as though he had left her without another word to say. 'Shall I go now?' he asked.
'Oh Frank!'
'I fear that my presence only makes you unhappy.'
'Then what will your absence do? When shall I see you again?
But, no; I will not see you again. Not for many days,--not for years. Why should I? Frank, is it wicked that I should love you?'
He could only shake his head in answer to this. 'If it be so wicked that I must be punished for it eternally, still I love you.
I can never, never, never love another. You cannot understand it.
Oh God,--that I had never understood it myself! I think, I think, that I would go with you now anywhere, facing all misery, all judgements, all disgrace. You know, do you not, that if it were possible, I should not say so. But as I know that you would not stir a step with me, I do say so.'
'I know that it is not meant.'
'It is meant, though it could not be done. Frank, I must not see her, not for awhile; not for years. I do not wish to hate her, but how can I help it? Do you remember when she flew into your arms in this room?'
'I remember it.'
'Of course you do. It is your great joy now to remember that, and such like. She must be very good! Though I hate her!'
'Do not say that you hate her, Mabel.'
'Though I hate her she must be good. It was a fine and brave thing to do. I have done it; but never before the world like that; have I, Frank? Oh, Frank, I shall never do it again. Go now, and do not touch me. Let us both pray that in ten years we may meet as passionate friends.' He came to her hardly knowing what he meant, but purposing, as though by instinct, to take her hand as he parted from her. But she, putting both her hands before her face, and throwing herself on to the sofa, buried her head among the cushions.
'Is there not to be another word?' he said. Lying as she did, she still was able to make a movement of dissent and he left her, muttering just one word between his teeth, 'Mabel, good-bye.'