Ferris did not offer to gather up her things; he stood irresolute;
presently he continued with a downcast look: “He had had a fever, but
they thought he was getting well. His death must have been sudden.” He
stopped, and resumed fiercely, resolved to have the worst out: “I went
to him, with no good-will toward him, the next day after I saw him;
but I came too late. That was God’s mercy to me. I hope you have your
consolation, Miss Vervain.”
It maddened him to see her so little moved, and he meant to make her
share his remorse.
“Did he blame me for anything?” she asked.
“No!” said Ferris, with a bitter laugh, “he praised you.”
“I am glad of that,” returned Florida, “for I have thought it all over
many times, and I know that I was not to blame, though at first I
blamed myself. I never intended him anything but good. That is _my_
consolation, Mr. Ferris. But you,” she added, “you seem to make yourself
my judge. Well, and what do _you_ blame me for? I have a right to know
what is in your mind.”
The thing that was in his mind had rankled there for two years; in
many a black reverie of those that alternated with his moods of abject
self-reproach and perfect trust of her, he had confronted her and flung
it out upon her in one stinging phrase. But he was now suddenly at a
loss; the words would not come; his torment fell dumb before her; in her
presence the cause was unspeakable. Her lips had quivered a little in
making that demand, and there had been a corresponding break in her
voice.
“Florida! Florida!” Ferris heard himself saying, “I loved you all the
time!”
“Oh indeed, did you love me?” she cried, indignantly, while the tears
shone in her eyes. “And was that why you left a helpless young girl to
meet that trouble alone? Was that why you refused me your advice, and
turned your back on me, and snubbed me? Oh, many thanks for your love!”
She dashed the gathered tears angrily away, and went on. “Perhaps you
knew, too, what that poor priest was thinking of?”
“Yes,” said Ferris, stolidly, “I did at last: he told me.”
“Oh, then you acted generously and nobly to let him go on! It was kind
to him, and very, very kind to me!”
“What could I do?” demanded Ferris, amazed and furious to find himself
on the defensive. “His telling me put it out of my power to act.”
“I’m glad that you can satisfy yourself with such a quibble! But I
wonder that you can tell _me_--_any_ woman of it!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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