“I was busy, and I didn’t——”
“You didn’t want to see me? Is that what you were going to say?”
“No; I didn’t mean that—I hope to have time for my friends when I get better established in my work. My opportunity is unusual—everyone is so kind.”
“Your genius is remarkable, and everyone has to be kind. But Jean——”
“Well, Mr. Craighill.”
“It’s getting dark and John is waiting to take us to Rosedale for dinner, so I’m going to say something to you that’s very important to me; please, Jean, won’t you listen?”
She rose as though to leave him; but his manner had changed, and she stood still, compelled by the very seriousness with which he spoke.
“I want you to look at me. A little less than two years ago I saw you and spoke to you for the first time at the Institute. I had sunk so low that decent women avoided me; I sought to begin a flirtation with you with no good thought in my heart—I was as low as that, Jean. You flung my own name at me—it was a weapon in your hands, and it struck fire on my pride. But I had gone too far to be stopped by a word. I had resolved upon evil things; I hated my father—I meant to humiliate him—to make him suffer. But believe me, Jean, that is all past now, a closed and sealed book. You told me I must not try to change my ways for you; and I made the mistake of expressing gratitude when I wrote, for all you have meant to me and done for me. I am not making that mistake now. You said a great thing to me that morning at my father’s house when you pointed out the nobility of labour; and I shall remember to my last hour the way you held out your hands as you opened to me your own life and heart. Then those fine fellows I met at Stoddard’s house in Virginia helped me—more than I realized at the time. It wasn’t much I did there at Denbeigh, and I couldn’t have done it at all if it had not been for Joe—Joe who really gave his life for me—I can’t forget that. But I came to myself up there. I have no illusions about myself; I am only a weak man, but I am trying to live a clean life. There is no woman anywhere that I can’t look in the face, and no man that can say I haven’t been square with him. I have some faith in myself now, and that’s the greatest gain. But I know I ask a great deal when I ask you to give up your work for me—and yet I ask it. Remember, there is no gratitude in this—you are a woman and I am a man—and I love you.”
She raised her eyes to his in a long, searching look, but when he had taken her hands she still held herself away from him.
“Oh, it isn’t my work, it isn’t that; I know how little that is!”