Still, in a little while, it became clear to these two foolish—or wise—young people that they must let each other go. Perhaps it was because they stood on the floor of heaven and so saw things beyond the stars, that even their own earthly happiness began to look a small thing beside the destruction of Dick Stamford’s soul.
“What am I to do?” said Elizabeth. “Poor Mrs. Stamford——”
She broke off, and the memory of that Magnificat in the Attertons’ morning-room swept with desolating conviction across their hearts.
“Why did you accept Stamford when you loved me?” said Andy. “Even if you supposed I didn’t care, you need not have done that.”
“I thought,” said Elizabeth—and here it all came out—“I thought if I could not be happy myself I could make a great many other people happy. I could do some good with my life. I should never have taken Dick Stamford if I had not felt I could do some good with my life in that way. And I knew I could never be happy without you.”
Oh, it was all foolishness, of course; but shadowy generations of good women stood behind Elizabeth as she said that, and the ladder of useless self-sacrifice on which they stood reached very high up: even as far, perhaps, as the dreams of those who know that their first duty is to themselves.
Anyway, there was something rather wonderful about the look of Andy and Elizabeth when they came forth from the shadow of the tree and walked together across the field. Their young faces were a little stern, and the radiance about them seemed in some strange way to be more a white fire of the spirit triumphing over the flesh than any ordinary moonlight.
They walked quietly, and scarcely spoke, but the things which usually seem unreal were near realities, and those things which usually seem real did not matter. Even though they saw the City of Wedded Love, the Enchanted Muddle, in ruins before them, a light streamed from somewhere farther on that made the ruins glorious—a huge altar to the God of Love.
At last they came suddenly, from behind a clump of trees, upon the garden of Gaythorpe Manor. And things began to be real—or unreal—again, according as you may take it.
“How did you get away?” said Andy in a low voice.