“If the girls’ places were only reversed now! I could tell Frankie that I had been false to our engagement and had fallen in love with Louise. She would know how it was herself. But Louise couldn’t comprehend such things. I believe she has been as true to me, even in thought, as if she had been my wife. How can I tell her?”
“The more you say, the plainer you make it your duty. I say, how can you not tell her?”
“I might go away for a year and not let her know and not write to her. Then she would know without my having to tell her.”
“You wouldn’t stand it if a man called you a coward. Don’t try my woman’s friendship for you too far. You insult me by offering such a suggestion.”
“Gently, gently, Ruth. I beg your pardon.” (Rachel was right in saying he would not quarrel. I wished he would. I never wanted to quarrel so much in my life.)
“I am a coward,” he broke down at last. “I’ll spare you the trouble of saying so. But oh, Ruth, you don’t know how I dread a scene! You go and tell her. I can’t. I couldn’t even write it.”
“How unselfish you are! Spare yourself at all hazards, Charlie, for of course it was not your fault that things got into such a state.”
“Oh, Ruth, don’t!”
“Well, I won’t. But do you realize how I should insult her if I went to her? It’s bad enough for you, the man she loves, to tell her. From any one else it would be unforgivable. Do as you like. You promised to follow my advice. Take it and do as you will with it. But I will guarantee the result if you will do as I say. Come, Charlie. One hour, and it will all be over, and you can marry Frankie.”
It was like getting him into a dentist’s chair. I felt a wholesome self-contempt as I thus sugar-coated his pill, but he was so abject in his misery.