"Have I not been silent for years? And who is as faithful to you as I
have been? It is easy to love a man who is innocent; but not a man who
is guilty! Guilty or not--I do not care. It is you that I care for--and
you may have as many sins as you please upon your soul--but they are
nothing to me. I am past anything now but speaking the truth. Have you
no pity for a woman to whom you are dearer than her own soul?"
She would have thrown herself at his feet, if he had not prevented her.
He was touched a little by her suffering, but he was also immeasurably
angered and disgusted. An exhibition of uncontrolled feeling was not the
way to charm him. His one desire now became the desire to escape.
"I should have no pity," he said, gravely, "for my own selfishness and
cowardice, if I took advantage of this moment of weakness on your part.
It _is_ weakness, I hope--I will not call it by any other name. You will
recover from it when the stress of this painful time is over, and you
will be glad to forget it as I shall do. Believe me, I will not think of
it again. It shall be in my mind as though you had not said it; and,
though it will be impossible for us to continue on our former terms of
friendship, I shall always wish for your welfare, and hope that time
will bring you happiness and peace."
She made no answer. She lay where he had placed her, her head buried
amongst the cushions, crushed to the very earth. She would not look at
him, would not make semblance to have heard. And he, without hesitation,
went deliberately to the door and let himself out. He gained the street
without being intercepted, and drew a long breath of relief when he felt
the soft night air playing on his heated brow. The moralist would have
said that he came off victor; but he had a sense, as he went out along
the pavement, of being only a defeated and degraded man. There was not
even the excitement of gratified vanity, for an offered love which did
not include perfect trust in his honor was an insult in itself. And
Caspar Brooke's integrity of soul was dear to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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