“In a moment—when you listen. You must. Nina Jaffray is blameless. She would not deny such a story. It would demean her to deny it as it demeans me.”
“It does demean you,” she broke in pitilessly, “as other things have demeaned you. Shame, Mr. Gallatin! Do you think I could believe the word of a man who seeks revenge for a woman’s indifference? Who finding her invulnerable goes to the ends of his resources to attack the members of her family? Trying by methods known only to himself and those of his kind to hinder the success of those more diligent than himself, to smirch the good name of an honest man, to obtain money——”
“Stop,” cried Gallatin hoarsely, and in spite of herself she obeyed. For he was leaning forward toward her, the long fingers of one hand trembling before him.
“You’ve gone almost too far, Miss Loring,” he whispered. “You are talking about things of which you know nothing. I will not speak of that, nor shall you, for whatever our relations have been or are now, nothing in them justifies that insult. Time will prove the right or the wrong of the matter between Henry K. Loring and me as time will prove the right and the wrong to his daughter. I ask nothing of her now, nor ever shall, not even a thought. The girl I am thinking of was gentle, kind, sincere. She looked with the eyes of compassion, the far-seeing gaze of innocence unclouded by bitterness or doubt. I gave her all that was best in me, all that was honest, all that was true, and in return she gave me courage, purpose, resolution. I loved her for herself, because she was herself, but more for the things she represented—purity, nobility, strength which I drew from her like an inspiration. It was to her that I owed the will to conquer myself, the purpose to win back my self-respect. I thanked God for her then and I’m thankful now, but I’m more thankful that I’m no longer dependent on her.”
Jane had sunk on the bench again, her head bent and a sound came from her lips. But he did not hear it.
“I do not need her now,” he went on quietly. “What she was is only a memory; what she is, only a regret. I shall live without her. I shall live without any woman, for no woman could ever be to me what that memory is. I love it passionately, reverently, madly, tenderly, and will be true to it, as I have always been. And, if ever the moment comes when the woman that girl has grown to be looks into the past, let her remember that love knows not doubt or bitterness, that it lives upon itself, is sufficient unto itself and that, whatever happens, is faithful until death.”
He stopped and stepped aside.
“I have finished, Miss Loring. Now go!”
The peremptory note startled her and she straightened and slowly rose. His head was bowed but his finger pointed toward the door of the conservatory. As she passed him she hesitated as though about to speak, and then slowly raising her head walked past him and disappeared.