“It is extraordinary—the capacity for suffering of the human heart! Physically we are so easily destroyed. An invisible germ will do it, the prick of a finger, a draught of cold air; but a man can live on, suffering mental torture, month after month, year after year, and his weight will hardly decrease by a pound. You read of broken hearts, but there are no such things! Hearts are invulnerable, torture-proof, guaranteed to endure all shocks!”
It occurred to me that it was time that Miss Harding exerted her vitality and stopped this flow of repining. The poor man had evidently had some tragedy in his life which had warped his outlook. He needed cheering—we all needed cheering; proverbially the surest way of cheering yourself is to cheer other people; therefore the sane and obvious way of spending his money was in providing cheer for the company. I said as much, and he said, “Certainly; but how? It was winter time. A winter’s day in London holds an insuperable barrier against any possibility of enjoyment.” I said, “Not at all! There were heaps of things—heaps of ways.” He said, “Would I kindly specify one or two of the ‘heaps’?” I said, “Certainly not! The essence of a treat lay in its quality of surprise. It was for him to think.” He smiled at me with whimsical amusement, and cried, “You said that just like a girl. You are a girl at heart, Miss Harding, in spite of your grey hairs. What a pity you did not marry, you would have given some man and some kiddies such a thundering good time. I know, of course, that it was your own doing. There must have been—”
“Oh, there were!” I cried glibly. “Several!”
“But you couldn’t—You were never tempted?”
“No, never. At least—” Suddenly I found that it was necessary to qualify that denial. “There are two things which are always tempting to a woman, Mr Hallett—love and strength! Every woman would be glad to have a strong, loving man to take care of her—if he were the right man!”
“Well!” he sighed, and rose heavily from his seat. “No doubt you knew best, but—I hope you gave him his chance! We men have many sides, but the best side is apt to remain hidden until some woman brings it out. If he loved you, you owed him something. I hope you played fair and gave him his chance!”
He turned towards the door; we shook hands, and he left without another word. I turned back to the fire, sat me down, and thought.
Ralph Maplestone had demanded his chance, and I had thought myself noble and brave in refusing to give it. He was strong and he was loving; he had asked nothing better than to take care of me. Would the time ever come, when I was really old, when I should sit by a lonely hearth and look back and regret? I thought of Mr Hallett’s voice as he spoke those last words, and saw a vision of his face. It is a beautiful face, and I dearly love beauty. What a satisfaction it would be to go through life looking at the curve of that nose and the modelling of that chin and jaw! I thought of the Squire’s stern voice, and his blunt, plain-featured face. Always, always, so long as I lived, I should long to take a pair of pincers and tweak that nose into shape, and nip little pieces of flesh from the neck, and pad them on the hollows beneath the cheek-bones. Suddenly I began to laugh. I imagined myself doing it—saw the expression in the blue, startled eyes.
Strange how plain faces can fascinate more than beautiful ones! My laughter died away. It is difficult to keep on laughing by oneself. I was tired, and had been giving out sympathy all day; depression clutched me, and a restless irritability. At this auspicious moment the orphan knocked at the door and announced that Number 19 would be glad to speak a few words.
“Show her in!” I said, and in she came—a pretty, thin, little woman, with a tempery eye.