The answer, and his tone, woke in her a painful sense of his intense participation in their talk and her own remoteness from it. The phrase “come with yourself” shed a lightning-flash of irony on their reciprocal attitude. What self had she left to come with? She knew he was waiting for an answer; she felt the cruelty of letting his exclamation drop as if unheard; but what more had she to say to him—unless she should say everything?
The thought shot through her for the first time. Had she really meant to marry him without his knowing? Perhaps she had; she was not sure; she felt she would never again be very sure of her own intentions. But now, through all the confusion and exhaustion of her mind, one fact had become abruptly clear: that she would have to tell him. Whether she married him or not seemed a small matter in comparison. First she must look into those honest eyes with eyes as honest.
“Myself?” she said, echoing his last word. “What do you know of that self, I wonder?”
He continued to stand before her in the same absorbed and brooding attitude. “All I need to know is how unhappy you’ve been.”
She leaned on her arm, still looking up at him. “Yes; I’ve been unhappy; horribly unhappy. Beyond anything you can imagine. Beyond anything you’ve ever guessed.”
This did not seem to surprise him. He continued to return her gaze with the same tranquil eyes. “But I rather think I have guessed,” he said.
Something in his voice seemed to tell her that after all she had not been alone in her struggle; it was as if he had turned a key in the most secret ward of her heart. Oh, if he had really guessed—if she were to be suddenly lifted beyond that miserable moment of avowal into a quiet heaven of understanding and compassion!
“You have guessed—you’ve understood?”
Yes; his face was still unperturbed, his eyes were indulgent. The tears rushed to her own; she wanted to sit down and cry her heart out. Instead, she got to her feet and went to him with outstretched hands. She must thank him; she would find the words now; she would be able to tell him what that perfect trust was to her, or at least what it would be when the present was far enough away for anything on earth to help her.
“Oh, Fred—you knew all the while? You saw I tried to the utmost, you saw I couldn’t do anything to stop it?”