Dan did not speak. He turned his head and looked Darsie full in the eyes, and there was in his look a puzzled, questioning air, which she found it difficult to understand. When he spoke again, it was not to reply in any direct way to her accusation, but to ask a question on his own account.
“Darsie, do you mind telling me—is your position entirely disinterested? Do you look upon the fellow merely as a man to be helped, or do you care for him for his own personal sake?”
Darsie deliberated. The firelight played on her downcast face, on the long white throat rising from the low collar of her white blouse, on the little hands clenched round the steel poker. Before her mind’s eye arose the memory of handsome, melancholy eyes; imagination conjured back the sound of impassioned appeals. Her expression softened, her voice took a deeper note.
“He needs me, Dan!”
That was her answer. Dan nodded in silence, accepting it as sufficient. He rose from his chair, and paced up and down the room, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets, head held back with the characteristic forward tilt of the chin. Darsie, watching him, thought involuntarily of a caged animal striving restlessly against the bars. Her heart gave a little throb of relief when he spoke again in his own natural voice.
“All right, Darsie. Good luck to your efforts! I appreciate your intentions, and am only sorry that I can’t agree. According to my belief no one can help a man who refuses to help himself. We’ve got to fight our own battles, and to bear our own burdens! If some one steps forward and offers to undertake for us, we may imagine for a time that we are set free, but it’s a mistake! Sooner or later the time comes when we’re bound to fight it out alone, and it doesn’t get easier for being deferred. Everything that is worth learning in life we have to worry out for ourselves!”
Darsie drew a long, trembling sigh. How puzzling life was, when the two people on whose judgment you most relied delivered themselves of directly opposing verdicts! Mrs Reeves believed that her help was all-important to Ralph’s progress; Dan insisted that her efforts were in vain.
Was he right? Was he wrong? Could she honestly assure herself that Ralph was stronger, more self-reliant, more able to stand alone without the stimulus of constant support and encouragement? Instinctively Darsie’s hand went up to touch the little golden brooch which fastened the lace collar of her blouse. If the anchor were withdrawn, would Ralph drift once more towards the rocks? The answer was difficult. She pondered it aloud, speaking in low, anxious tones, with lengthened pauses between the words.
“We’re both right, Dan. We’ve both got hold of bits of the truth! In the end we must win through for ourselves, but surely, in preparation for the battle, we can give each other some help. Some natures seem made to stand, and others to lean. A prop is not of much account, but it may serve to keep a plant straight while it is gathering strength. The big oaks need no props; they are so strong that they can’t understand; they have no pity for weakness.”
Dan stopped short in his pacings.