"Well, take your time—but I'll be awfully eager to see you again. I'll miss you like the dickens," John said rather wistfully.
Rodrigo, his baggage already aboard, arrived early at the steamer that Saturday. In the midst of the passengers waving and calling to the swarms of friends standing in the doorways of the pier-sheds, he stood alone on the deck, looking ashore. He was probably the only one there to whom someone was not wishing bon voyage, he told himself rather grimly. Then suddenly he saw Mary Drake and she had finally managed to thrust her slim way through the gesticulating groups on shore and was searching the deck of the ship with her eyes.
Rodrigo turned abruptly and hurried down the gangplank. He pushed to her side.
"This is good of you, Mary," he said to her.
She started, turned, smiled, and said seriously, "I came down to ask you to reconsider not coming back."
"How do you know I am not coming back?" he echoed the seriousness in her voice.
"You told me once that you were going away and not return. I guessed you were only waiting until John was firmly on his feet. He is there now. And you are sailing away."
"Would you like me to come back—for yourself, Mary?" he asked hopefully.
"I am not to be considered," she answered almost coldly, though there was a little catch in her throat. "You should come back for the sake of your own soul. To run away and stay away is cowardice. You will spend the rest of your life hating yourself." She lifted her face to his appealingly. "Oh, Rodrigo, can't you see that the only right way is to tell John the truth, even now? He can stand it now. And you will save yourself. You are not happy. You will never be happy as long as this terrible thing is in your heart."
"Is that question of telling John always to stand between us, Mary? Do I have to wreck John's life all over again in order to make you love me?" He asked almost bitterly.