The sound of the distant skating had died away until by now only the faintest ring of steel singing upon the ice was borne by the rising wind into the little cove. In the darkness Ellen bowed her head and sat thus silently for a long time. Her thoughts, whatever they may have been, were interrupted presently by the sound of Clarence’s voice, softer this time, and less frightened, though it still carried a timidity, almost the abjectness of an apology.
“I could help you.... I could make money and you could go on with your music. You see, this didn’t come over me suddenly. I’ve thought about it before ... ever since I saw you that first time.”
There was nothing in the least dominating in his manner. He sat there at a proper distance from her, mild and gentle, pleading his case. It was clear that he was even a little frightened, as if he had spoken almost without willing it. But the little vein in his throat which Lily had noticed so long before began to throb, slowly at first and then with steadily mounting rapidity. If Lily had been there, she would have understood its significance as surely as a ship’s captain watching his barometer in a storm. Lily understood such things.
When at last Ellen raised her head, it was to look at him directly and with a certain appraising frankness.
“Yes.... I’ll marry you,” she said at last. She spoke breathlessly, her voice clouded by a faint choking sound as if for the first time in her life she were really frightened.
“I’m glad,” said Clarence. “You see, I want to be great and famous some day. I want to be rich, and I want some one to share it with me. I couldn’t marry May. It would be like shutting myself up in a trap.” The terrible ambitions were loose again, running wild, leaping all bounds, intoxicating him. “I want to be great and rich ... if I can. I never told anybody this before, but I thought you might understand because you’re different.”
It was the longest speech he had ever made in her presence, and throughout its duration Ellen watched him with a growing wonder mirrored in her eyes.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she said almost with reverence. “You never mentioned it before. I thought you’d be content with May.”
But all the same, her words lacked the ring of conviction. All at once she felt herself engulfed by a great and unaccustomed wave of pity that was quite beyond explanation. She felt that Mr. Murdock was pathetic. It was almost as if she could weep for him. It was not until long afterward that she understood this chaotic emotion. It passed quickly, and she said, “But you’d better go now and find May.... Don’t wait for me ... I’m all right.... She must be all alone by now, wondering where you are. I can look out for myself.”
And a little later Clarence, treacherously shepherding May on their last walk together, saw in the far distance against the dying glow the black silhouette of Ellen. Alone she moved over the crest of the high hill, walking slowly now, her head bent in thought ... remote, proud and somehow terrifying.