IV
A great melancholy fell upon him, if it were indeed possible for him to become more dispirited, against which he was powerless to contend. There was revealed to him on the instant a seeming predilection on the part of Marjorie for this man, Anderson. The longer they conversed, the deeper did that conviction grow. This made him careless and petulant. Now a feeling of deep regret stole over him because he had been so unsympathetic. In presence of her feeling of grief and disappointment, his pity was aroused.
"I deeply regret the pain I have caused you," he said to her quietly and kindly. "It was altogether rude of me."
She bit her lip violently, tremulously, in an effort to restrain the flood of emotion which surged within, which threatened to burst forth with the pronunciation of the merest syllable.
She did not reply, but fumbled with the knitted portion of her garment, running its edges through her fingers.
"I had no intention of speaking of him as I did," he went on. "I would not, did you not ask me."
"I am not offended."
"Your composure reveals to me that you have been hurt."
"I did not mean that you should know it."
"Very likely. But you could not disguise the fact. I shall give you the assurance, however, that the subject shall not be a topic for discussion by us again. He must not be mentioned."
"Please! I—I——"
"It was solely for yourself that I was concerned. Believe me when I say this. Insofar as I myself am concerned, I am wholly disinterested. I thought you desired to know and I told you as much as it was possible for me to tell. You must ask me no more."
"He has not revealed this side of his character to me and I have been in his company on several occasions. Always has he been kind, gentlemanly, sincere, upright."
Her eyes were centered full upon him, those large brown eyes that seemed to contain her whole being. Whether she was gay or sad, jocose or sober, enthusiastic or despondent, the nature of her feelings could be communicated solely by her eyes. She need not speak; they spoke for her.
"You are right in believing every man virtuous until he has proved himself otherwise," he replied. "There should be one weight and one measure. But I regulate my intercourse with men by the opposite standard. I distrust every man until he has proved himself worthy, and it was that principle which guided me, undoubtedly, in my application of it to you."
"Do you consider that upright?"
"Do not misunderstand me. I do not form a rash judgment of every person I meet. As a matter of fact I arrive at no judgment at all. I defer judgment until after the investigation, and I beware of him until this investigation has been completed."
"You are then obliged to live in a world of suspicion."
"No. Rather in a world of security. How often has the knave paraded under the banner of innocence! The greatest thieves wear golden chains."
"I could not live after such manner."
She became impatient.
"Were you thrown into daily relation with the world you would soon learn the art of discrimination. The trusty sentinel lives a life of suspicion."
At length a truce was silently proclaimed. Composure reigned. The unpleasant episode had to all appearances been obliterated from their minds. There was even a touch of that old humor dancing in her eyes.
"Some one has said," she observed, "that 'suspicion is the poison of friendship.'"
"And a Latin proverb runs, 'Be on such terms with your friend as if you knew he may one day become your enemy.' Friendship, I realize, is precious and gained only after long days of probation. The tough fibers of the heart constitute its essence, not the soft texture of favors and dreams. We do not possess the friends we imagine, for the world is self-centered."
"Have you no friends?"
Now she smiled for the second time, but it was only a smile of humor about the corners of her mouth.
"Only those before whom I may be sincere."
He was serious, inclined to analysis, one might say.
"Can you expect to find sincerity in others without yourself being sincere?"
"No. But my friend possesses my other soul. I think aloud before him. It does not matter. I reveal my heart to him, share my joys, unburden my grief. There is a simplicity and a wholesomeness about it all. We are mutually sincere."
"Your test is severe."
"But its fruits imperishable."
"I cannot adopt your method," was the deliberate reply as she began to gather together her ball and needles.
"Let's leave it at that."
And they left it.