And yet?—
What if she brought a shadow where there would otherwise have been no shadow, dimmed a brightness that, without her, had gone undimmed? She knew he was not weak naturally. He did not need any strengthening; only impetus, ambition, aim, and some safeguarding by the way.
She smiled a little drearily at the recollection that it was from her, herself, that probably his own people would think he needed safeguarding. She could foresee that they would likely enough hurl themselves between him and her, oblivious that by doing so they might very possibly be the cause of driving him to far worse. But that, of course, no one could help; as how should they know the fine shades between the women who lived outside the conventions?
But then again, they need not know that the great friendship existed—why should they? After all, few would credit the celebrated, beautiful actress with anything beyond a passing fancy for the youthful, briefless barrister.
And yet?—
Across every fresh pathway she turned her thoughts along, was still that arresting, intangible, “and yet”.
The pity of it! At least he was strong, and true, and unspoilt now. Why not give life a chance to leave him so?
Why not give Fate a chance to endow him quickly with the rich, blessed love that kept a man walking straight and strong along his steadfast way?
But again the thought came back of what he would lose, what he must inevitably lose, if he missed the storm and stress and struggle that are as the mill and furnace through which the gold is refined, and hardened, and separated from the dross.
She went back to the fireside feeling that her probing had brought her nowhither, and that she was only very tired and very depressed.