Death -- Fiction; Forgiveness -- Fiction; Memory -- Fiction
after he had virtually made up his mind to go. The influence that kept
him away really revealed to him how little to himself his Dead _ever_
left him. He went only for _them_—for nothing else in the world.
The force of this revulsion kept him away ten days: he hated to connect
the place with anything but his offices or to give a glimpse of the
curiosity that had been on the point of moving him. It was absurd to
weave a tangle about a matter so simple as a custom of devotion that
might with ease have been daily or hourly; yet the tangle got itself
woven. He was sorry, he was disappointed: it was as if a long happy
spell had been broken and he had lost a familiar security. At the last,
however, he asked himself if he was to stay away for ever from the fear
of this muddle about motives. After an interval neither longer nor
shorter than usual he re-entered the church with a clear conviction that
he should scarcely heed the presence or the absence of the lady of the
concert. This indifference didn’t prevent his at once noting that for
the only time since he had first seen her she wasn’t on the spot. He had
now no scruple about giving her time to arrive, but she didn’t arrive,
and when he went away still missing her he was profanely and consentingly
sorry. If her absence made the tangle more intricate, that was all her
own doing. By the end of another year it was very intricate indeed; but
by that time he didn’t in the least care, and it was only his cultivated
consciousness that had given him scruples. Three times in three months
he had gone to church without finding her, and he felt he hadn’t needed
these occasions to show him his suspense had dropped. Yet it was,
incongruously, not indifference, but a refinement of delicacy that had
kept him from asking the sacristan, who would of course immediately have
recognised his description of her, whether she had been seen at other
hours. His delicacy had kept him from asking any question about her at
any time, and it was exactly the same virtue that had left him so free to
be decently civil to her at the concert.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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