And the poor fellow, who was really thinking all that time of the bad news and how to break it, listened to her, hearing only half she said. He did not know how to break his news, that was the truth, yet dared not leave it unbroken.
“When is Mr. Stanton coming down?” he asked her.
“Why do you dwell upon it? You have this afternoon, make the best of the time. I should like to think you were glad, not sorry we met.”
He broke into crude and confused speech then and told her all she had meant to him, what new views of life she had given to him.
“You have been a perfect revelation to me. I had not dreamed a woman could be so sweet....” And then, stammeringly, he thanked her for everything. He was a little overcome because he was not sure this happiness of hers was going to last, that it would not be almost immediately eclipsed. He really did love her and in the best way, would have secured her happiness at the expense of his own, would have sacrificed everything he held dear to save her from what he feared was inevitable. He was miserably undecided, and could not throw off his depression. Not, as Margaret thought, because of his jealousy of Gabriel and ungratified love, but because he feared the wedding might never take place. He eat a great many hot cakes and sandwiches, drank two cups of tea. Afterwards in the music room he played Beethoven, and listened when she replied with Chopin. Or if he did not listen the pretence he made was good enough to satisfy her. She was secretly flattered, elated, at the effect she had produced, a little sorry for him, a little sentimental. “Why should a heart have been there in the way of a fair woman’s foot?” she quoted to herself.
She sent him away before dinner. She had promised Gabriel she would keep early hours, rest, and rest, and rest until he came down on Saturday, and she meant to keep her promise. She gave Dr. Kennedy both her hands in farewell.
“I wish you did not look so woebegone. Say you are glad I am happy.”
“Oh, my God!” he lost himself then, kissing the hands she gave him, speaking wildly. “If the fellow were not such a prig, if only your happiness would last....”
She drew her hands away, angry or offended.
“Last! of course it will last. Hush! don’t say anything unworthy of you. Don’t make me disappointed. I don’t want to think I have made a mistake.”