With a quick gesture she raised her head. “No!” she exclaimed. “No; don't say anything! You are going to see things as I see them—you must do so—you have no choice. No real man ever casts away the substance for the shadow!” Her eyes shone—the color, the glow, the vitality, rushed back into her face.
“John,” she said, softly, “I love you—and I need you—but there is something with a greater claim—a greater need than mine. Don't you know what it is?”
He said nothing; he made no gesture.
“It is the party—the country. You may put love aside, but duty is different. You have pledged yourself. You are not meant to draw back.”
Loder's lips parted.
“Don't!” she said again. “Don't say anything! I know all that is in your mind. But, when we sift things right through, it isn't my love—or our happiness—that's really in the balance. It is your future!”
Her voice thrilled. “You are going to be a great man, and a great man is the property of his country. He has no right to individual action.”
Again Loder made an effort to speak, but again she checked him.
“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Wait! You believe you have acted wrongly, and you are desperately afraid of acting wrongly again. But is it really truer, more loyal for us to work out a long probation in grooves that are already overfilled than to marry quietly abroad and fill the places that have need of us? That is the question I want you to answer. Is it really truer and nobler? Oh, I see the doubt that is in your mind! You think it finer to go away and make a new life than to live the life that is waiting you—because one is independent and the other means the use of another man's name and another man's money—that is the thought in your mind. But what is it that prompts that thought?” Again her voice caught, but her eyes did not falter. “I will tell you. It is not self-sacrifice—but pride!” She said the word fearlessly.
A flush crossed Loder's face. “A man requires pride,” he said in a low voice.