"You speak as if I did it all intentionally," he remarked. "But I never
intended anything less. It had nothing to do with what I could control.
I had no more power over it than I had over the thunderstorm. After all,
you don't blame your thrush for eating worms. If one acts instinctively,
nobody has any right to blame me. Besides, I don't want your moral
judgment. I just want to know what it means. You have called me a Pagan
before now, and I did not deny it. But there I am. I don't happen to
like the colour of your hair, but I accept it. It seems to me buttery,
if you want to know. And I seem to you Pagan, without conscience, you
think I have acted uglily. Very well."
Merivale hesitated a moment; he had no desire to say hard things because
they were hard. On the other hand, he felt that the game must be played,
rules had to be observed, or human life broke up in confusion, as if the
fielders in a game of cricket would not run after the ball or the bowler
bowl. He himself did not go in for cricket, he deliberately stood aside,
but the rules were binding on those who played. Yet it was no use trying
to convince a person who fundamentally disagreed.
"Well, you asked me," he said, "and I have given you my opinion. That's
all. Nobody's opinion is binding on anyone else. But I do ask you to
think it over."
Evelyn gave a little click of impatience.
"Think it over!" he said. "What else do you suppose I should be thinking
about, or what else have I thought about for days?"
Merivale shook his head.
"Try to get outside yourself, I mean, and look at what you have done
from any other standpoint than your own. You say you couldn't help
telling her. Well, there are certain things one has got to help,
else----"
He stopped; it was no use talking. But Evelyn wanted to hear.
"Else?" he suggested.
"Else you had better not mix with other people at all," said Merivale.
"You have better reason for turning hermit than I. You have told a girl
who is engaged to your friend that you love her. Think over that!"
[Illustration: text decoration]
[Illustration: text decoration]
NINTH
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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