“It is also my last chance,” said Tony, with a curious little smile. “You could understand that if you wished to.”
“No,” said Appleby doggedly. “I don’t think I could. Nor do I believe you would convince any reasonable man.”
Tony smiled curiously. “One has objections to stripping himself, so to speak, before even a friend’s eyes. It really isn’t decent, but—since you are persistent—what I went through at Northrop was getting insupportable. The anxiety was crushing the life out of me, and it’s out of the question that I should go back there while you are carrying the load that should have been upon my shoulders here. I’m not claiming any virtue I don’t possess. Indeed, it’s selfishness and what is most likely superstitious cowardice that decides me to stay, but I feel that until I have made all right with you there can be no peace for me.”
“I do not want to live in England, and you are taking too personal a view of the thing. Since there is Violet to consider your life is not your own to throw away, and I am not sure you know how much she would forgive you.”
Tony’s face grew a trifle grim, and the light that streamed from the window showed the weariness in it.
“The trouble is that Violet was never in love with—me,” he said very slowly. “I have a gift for deceiving people, even when I don’t mean to, and it was not until the truth came out she saw me as I am. It is difficult to admit it, but there the fact is. She gave her heart to the man she supposed me to be, but I loved her for herself, and because I know she is the one woman who could make an honorable man of me. I lose my last hope if I let her go.”
He stopped a moment with a little groan, while Appleby regarded him compassionately, and then continued in a low strained voice.
“Now you see the selfishness of it, and why I mean to stay. I must prove I’m not wholly worthless by making amends to you.”
Appleby stood silent a moment. He knew Tony’s unstable nature well, and that his passion for Violet Wayne, which was almost reverential, might yet lift him to a higher level. It was also evident that in desiring to make amends Tony was wise, and Appleby felt a curious sympathy for the man who clung so desperately to his last hope of vindicating himself in her eyes. That Tony’s motive was, as he had admitted, largely selfish, and his contrition by no means of the highest order, did not trouble him. It was his part to help and not censure him, and with a little swift movement he laid his hand upon his shoulder.
“Well,” he said quietly, “you may be right, and since nothing else will content you, you must stay.”