“I know,” she replied in a low voice.
“Every moment you stop here insults you, puts shame upon you. Shame! And on you! It's not bearable. It's not to be suffered. I'll not suffer it for one.”
At this she lifted her head and reproved him by a look. It was mild, queenly mild, but not weak. Remote from him and his world, it said, “I can't hear you.”
He understood it so. “Who says I may not speak to you? Who else is to speak to you if I don't? How can you bear yourself and speak nothing? Is it natural?” He seemed on the point of angry tears; with a gesture infinitely kind she bore with him. Her hand just touched his arm.
“Dear Struan,” she said, “I know how nice you mean to be to me; I am very grateful to you. Of course I am going away. I have brought everything on myself, and must bear the consequences by myself. But I have been happy here, lately, and shall be most unhappy to go. I have so many friends here.” Then, after looking at him, reflecting, she added, “Of course I know that you care.”
“Care!” he cried out, scornfully. “Do you think that I've watched you, in and out, for three years without caring? Do you think that I have schooled myself to put up with—with him—without caring? And when I thought that he was coming back here to—to prove himself an honourable man—I thanked the Lord. Yes, I did that. I was ready to go when I knew he was coming back for that. I told you I would go—and I meant it. I should have cut my heart out and left it here, and gone away—clean away, glorifying and praising God. But—oh, it's hideous, hideous! You are discarded—you! Cast off—you! Peerless as you are—you! Oh, my Saviour, what's this?” He broke away, and sobbed. He dashed his arm over his eyes in a rage with himself. She was very gentle with him now.
She put her hand on his shoulder, and though he shook it off, put it there again. “You hurt me, Struan, really. If you are my friend, you shouldn't doubt me. I don't feel about it as you do, you know.”
He lifted his head at the challenge. “Then you should,” he said. “Dog that he is. He's insulting you. He had better have died than do as he does. Damn him, he shall pay for it.” She shook her head, smiling rather dismally.
“I can't talk to you any more if you don't understand why I can't talk to you,” she said. “There are things which friends cannot do for each other—which we have to do alone.”
The lad gasped and made a step towards her. He could not control himself—he shook.