"You wish to go? Then it's settled." He turned his face to the fire, and she could not see it. "We'll not speak of this again." His voice seemed natural; but there must have been some subtle quality in it that set her nerves to vibrating.
"And you," she cried, "are thinking 'How mean and ungrateful she is—after my generosity to refuse to——'"
"Not so!" he protested sharply, wheeling round. "I've not been generous. When I told you the fault was chiefly mine, I meant it."
"When a man treats a woman as if she were a human being, it's generosity, as the world goes," insisted she. And then the words began to pour from her as if they had suddenly found an outlet. "You make me feel small and mean in refusing. Oh, I'm grateful for the way you've treated me—but I hate myself for being grateful—and I'm ashamed that it is hateful. But I can't be different. Your generosity—your forgiveness hurt my pride. They make me feel I'm your inferior—and I am. But I mustn't stay where I'd feel humble. You make me ashamed to go, but I know I've the right to go—and that I ought to go. I must!"
"Then—you are going," was his unhesitating reply. "I don't want you to stay. I see you don't believe me—don't understand me—and no wonder. It'd be useless to try again, unless we were both determined with all our hearts to make a success if success was at all possible."
"And it couldn't be a success," said she, a touching melancholy in her voice, in her deep, mysterious eyes. "For, a man doesn't want an equal woman but a dependent—wants his woman to be like his dog. Oh, what a world it is!—where everybody cants about self-respect, and everybody prefers cringers to friends, fear to love!"
"Not I," said Vaughan, in the quiet forceful manner that fitted so well his air of reserve power, of strength without strenuosity. "And that's why I want you. Courtney, don't you see that you're free and independent here, now? Don't you see it'd be a waste of time, a waste of energy, for you to go away? You may not need me, but I need you—in every way. You can get along without me. But how can I get along without you? Where would I find a woman who could take your place?"
Her bosom was rising and falling stormily. Her eyes wandered, as if she were desperately seeking a way of escape and had scant hope of finding it.
"Can't you give 'us' another trial?" he asked, with proud humility.
"I cannot," she cried, starting up in her agitation. "I cannot! I must go. There's everything here but the one thing I must have—what you never could give me, after all that's happened—and then, there's what I said to you this afternoon. We never could look at each other without my feeling that you— Oh, let's not talk about it. I must go—I must! I cannot live without love—equal love. I must seek until I find it—find some one who needs me—all of me—all I have to give—and must give."