Mrs. Hart paused, and swallowed a sob.
“Well, I stood there, so frightened at the sight of Ruth’s face, that I didn’t know what to do; till by and by she said, very softly, ’Aren’t you going to kiss me, dear?’ Oh, her voice was so sweet and sad, I couldn’t help it, but I burst out crying; and she cried, too; and she put her face up close to the open place in the door; and then we kissed each other; and then—then we just cried and cried, and couldn’t speak a word.”
The memory of her former tears brought fresh tears to Mrs. Hart’s eyes. Drying them, she went on, “We were crying like that, and never thinking of any thing else, when the prison woman said, ’If you have any communication to make to the prisoner, you’d better make it right off, because you can’t stay here all day, you know.’ Then I began about Arthur. I said, ’Ruth, I wanted to tell you that Arthur is down outside, and that he wishes to see you.’ Oh, if you could have seen the look that came upon her face! It made me tremble. I thought she was going to faint, or something. But no. She said, very calmly, ’It would do no good for me to see Arthur. It would only pain him and myself. I do not wish to see him. I could not bear to see him. That is what she said.”
“Go on, go on,” groaned Arthur, as Mrs. Hart paused.
“She said she didn’t want to see you, and couldn’t bear to. I said, ’But, Ruth, you ought to see him. You and he ought to speak together, and try to understand each other.’ She said, ’There is no misunderstanding between us. I understand every thing.’—’Oh, no,’ said I, ’no, you don’t. There is something which he wants to explain to you—about how he came to be associated with Mr. Peix-ada.’—’I don’t care about that,’ said she. ’There are some things which he can not explain. I am miserable enough already. I need all my strength. I should break down, if I were to see him.’—But I said, ’Consider, him, Ruth. You can’t imagine how unhappy he is. He loves you so much. It is breaking his heart.’—’Loves me?’ she said. ’Does he still pretend to love me? Oh, no, he does not love me. He never loved me. If he had loved me, he would never have done what he did. Oh, no, no—I can not see him, I will not see him. You may tell him that I said it would do no good for us to see each other. Every thing is over and past between him and me.’ She had said all this very calmly. But then suddenly she began to cry again: and she was crying and sobbing as if her heart would break, and she couldn’t speak a word, and all I could do was to try and soothe her a little, when the prison woman said I must come away. I tried to get her to let me stay—offered her money—but she said, ’No. It is dinner time now. No visitors are allowed in the building at dinner time. You must go.’—So, I had to leave Ruth alone.”
“It is as I supposed,” moaned Arthur. “She hates me. All is over and past between us, she said.”
“Nonsense, man,” protested Hetzel. “It is merely a question of time. Mrs. Hart simply didn’t have time enough. If she had been allowed to stay a half hour longer, your wife would have loved you as much as ever. She does love you as much as ever, now. But her heart is crushed and sore, and all she feels is the pain. It’s less than twenty-four hours since the whole thing happened; she hasn’t had time enough yet to think it over. We’re going to have her home again to-morrow; and if between the three of us we can’t undeceive her respecting your relations to Peixada—bring her to hear and comprehend the truth—I’ll be mightily surprised.”
They drove for some blocks in silence.
“Did you give her her things, Mrs. Hart?” Arthur asked, abruptly.
“No,” said Mrs. Hart; “they wouldn’t let me. I forgot to tell you that they made me empty my pockets before they led me to her. The prison woman took the things, and said she would examine them, and then give her such as were not against rules.”