"Why do you say that?" he asked, quickly.
"Because I know you could not believe it,"—I answered—"It would be impossible for you."
A gleam of satire flashed in his sunken eyes.
"Well, you are right there! I did not believe it. But I expected—"
"I know!" And I laughed—"You expected what is called a 'singular' woman—one who makes herself 'singular,' adopts a 'singular' pose, and is altogether removed from ordinary humanity. And of course you are disappointed. I am not at all a type of the veiled priestess."
"It is not that,"—he said, with a little vexation—"When I saw you I recognised you to be a very transparent creature, devoted to innocent dreams which are not life. But that secret which you are reported to possess—the secret of wonderful abounding exhaustless vitality—how does it happen that you have it? I myself see that force expressed in your very glance and gesture, and what puzzles me is that it is not an animal vitality; it is something else."
I was silent.
"You have not a robust physique,"—he went on—"Yet you are more full of the spirit of life than men and women twice as strong as you are. You are a feminine thing, too,—and that goes against you. But one can see in you a worker—you evidently enjoy the exercise of the accomplishments you possess—and nothing comes amiss to you. I wonder how you manage it? When you joined us on this trip a few days ago, you brought a kind of atmosphere with you that was almost buoyant, and now I am disappointed, because you seem to have enclosed yourself within it, and to have left us out!"
"Have you not left yourselves out?" I queried, gently. "I, personally, have really nothing to do with it. Just remember that when we have talked on any subject above the line of the general and commonplace your sole object has been to 'draw' me for the amusement of yourself and Dr. Brayle—"
"Ah, you saw that, did you?" he interrupted, with a faint smile.