“You look at me,” said she, with a little gasping laugh, “as if I were a drowning girl, and you chained to the bank. If you haven’t pitied me in the past, Albert, don’t pity me now; for the mere saying openly to some human being that I love him seems almost to make me happy!”
I lamely murmured some inanity, of which she took not the slightest notice.
“Is it true,” she asked, “that Mr. Elkins is to pay their debts, and that they are to be—married?”
“No,” said I, glad, for some reason which is not very clear, to find something to deny. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you.”
And again, this time something wearily, for it was the second time over it in so short a time, I explained the disposition of the Trescott estate.
“But he urged it?” she said. “He insisted upon it?”
“Yes.”
She arose, buttoned her jacket about her, and stood quietly as if to test her mastery of herself, once or twice moving as if to speak, but stopping short, with a long, quivering sigh. I longed to take her in my arms and comfort her; for, in a way, she attracted me strongly.
“Mr. Barslow,” said she at last, “I have no apology to make to you; for you are my friend. And I have no feeling toward Mr. Elkins of which, in my secret heart, and so long as he knows nothing of it, I am not proud. To know him ... and love him may be death ... but it is honor!... I am sorry Josie is poor, because it is a hard thing for her; but more because I know he will be drawn to her in a stronger way by her poverty. Shake hands with me, Albert, and be jolly, I’m jollier, away down deep, than I’ve been for a long, long time; and I thank you for that!”
We shook hands warmly, like comrades, and passed down to her carriage together. At dinner she was vivacious as ever; but I was downcast. So much so that Mrs. Hinckley devoted herself to me, cheering me with a dissertation on “Sex in Mind.” I asked myself if the atmosphere in which she had been reared had not in some degree contributed to the attitude of Antonia toward the expression to me of her regard for Jim.