Once again fell silence. The wonder had been spoken, the miracle, which day by day, at countless altars, is silently performed, before which the very angels themselves stand watching in reverent awe.
It was a long time before David spoke again. At last he said:
“Yet what bearing has—has that on the other question,—the question of my accepting this inheritance? Why do I imagine that my acceptance might, in a measure, hinder this quest? There are, by the way, quite a dozen ordinary reasons which have cropped up to make me dislike the thought of accepting. I’ll grant that they are, no doubt, stupid reasons, which most people would consider barely worth consideration, but there they are. By themselves I might face them fairly, weigh them, and come to a decision; but added to them, all the time, has been this other thought. Now the point is,” went on David, leaning forward, and speaking with frowning deliberation, in the effort to make his meaning clear, “which is really influencing me? Am I making this queer thought the pretext for wanting to be rid of the whole business, when it’s really that I shirk the thought of the restrictions this new mode of life must bring? Or is the thought of these restrictions merely a side issue, which should be ignored while I figure out the other question? And, from every reasonable standpoint, it hasn’t the smallest bearing on the case. It seems absurd to suppose that it has. Then there’s the third idea that I mentioned, the idea that the whole thing is a mistake, and that I haven’t any right to the place at all. But that can really be ruled out; there’s so much proof to the contrary. It’s odd to me to analyse like this; and yet, for the life of me, I can’t help doing it.”
Elizabeth listened, turned the matter in her mind, and spoke.
“Let’s get hold of the business from a purely reasonable and sensible standpoint first,” quoth she. “You’ve made a bid for this inheritance which you believed to be yours. It is proved, from a legal point of view, that it is yours. Now tell me what you think of it,—from the merely sensible standpoint, remember.”
“There isn’t one,” laughed David. “At least, I don’t believe any one would dream of calling it sensible. But we’ll call it the material standpoint. The fact is that I’m not in the least dead sure that I want the thing now. It would mean a mode of life entirely foreign to me. I should feel cramped and caged.”
“Well?” smiled Elizabeth triumphantly.
His statement so entirely coincided with her own and Mrs. Trimwell’s views. Also Mrs. Trimwell’s exceeding simple solution of the problem was before her mind.
“Well,” echoed David, “naturally the simple solution of the difficulty would be to chuck the whole thing.”
“Exactly,” nodded Elizabeth, delightedly, encouragingly.