A Romance of WastdaleMason, A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley)
General
A Romance of Wastdale
Mason, A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley)
Fiction
"For believing in me?" she asked rather sadly. The bitterness of his
remark seemed to show her that he grasped at last the full folly of
his faith in her. It was the goal at which she had been aiming, and
yet, now that it was reached, she felt a keen pang of regret.
"No! For demanding so much myself."
The knowledge that she had mistaken his meaning gratified her and,
indeed, raised him in her respect. The words, spoken at another time,
would only have served to strengthen her old conception of him, and to
justify that lurking contempt for his humility which formed a factor
in her ready reliance upon his services. Now, however, she stood in
sore need of his help; he was there dominating her plainly by the
superiority of his physical strength, and he could afford to be
humble, nay, rather bettered his position by the contrast.
Kate gave in and said weakly:
"I am afraid that I shall have to ask you to carry me across after
all."
"It is what I came back for," he answered, no suspicion of her
thoughts occurring to him. He lifted her slight figure with an absence
of effort or jerk which told of practised sinews, and Kate clasped her
hands behind his neck and nestled down into his arms with a child's
sigh of content. To Gordon the sigh conveyed no direct or immediate
meaning. His fanciful tendency to symbolism made it expressive only of
the relief she had experienced on stepping down from her pedestal.
Had he but known it, however, he was nearer to her heart than he had
ever been. He was showing himself in the man's shape which most
appealed to her. He was the protector, not the attendant, with
strength to be appreciated as masterful, not to be carelessly used and
forgotten. Had he stopped dead in mid-stream and asserted his cause
with a like mental force, claiming her and her sins to himself with
the courage of a confident love, he would have undone the harm of his
maladroit pleading in the porch.
It was the crucial moment of his life. But his dominance was of the
body, not the spirit, and he passed through it without an inkling of
its importance.
The next moment he reached the farther bank and set her silently on
the ground, apart from him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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