He started at that, and his hands relaxed their hold. The dull red flush mounted once more to his forehead, his lips twitched, and twitched again. The man was suffering, and the marks of his pain were plain to read.
“Why ... should you say that? Pixie, what is it? I explained about that extra six months. ... You said you understood. It was part of the agreement that we were not to write except on occasions. Were my letters wrong? Didn’t they please you? I was never a good hand at letter-writing. Was that it? What was it? What have I done, Pixie, to make you doubt me?”
“I don’t think,” said Pixie dreamily, “you have done anything.” It seemed for a moment as if she had nothing more to say, then suddenly she asked another question: “Stanor! That day in Liverpool, on the landing-stage, did you notice a girl standing near me—a girl with a fur cap?”
“No, Pixie. I noticed only one girl—yourself!”
“She was parting from a man—her lover or husband—who was leaning over the rail and looking down at her. Stanor ... they ... cared! They loved each other. ... All these years I have had their faces in my heart. I looked at them, and I looked at you, and I understood the difference!”
“I was miserable enough, Pixie. All men do not show their feelings in the same way.”
“I knew you were sorry. I was sorry, too. ... I’m not blaming you. I’ve no right to blame you. I have waited for you, and you’ve come back. You have asked me to marry you. Stanor!” She clasped his arms with her hands, her eyes intently gazing into his. “I’ll tell you the truth about myself.—I was a child when you went away. I didn’t know how to love. Now I do! If you love me, Stanor, with your whole heart and soul, more than any one in the world, more than anything in the world, then marry me, dear, and I’ll make you happy! If you don’t ... if there is any doubt in your mind, if there is some one else who has grown nearer to you while you’ve been away—I shouldn’t be angry, Stanor, only,” her voice shook, a quiver passed over the upturned face, “please tell me now! Be honest! It’s for all our lives, remember. ... We’ve no right to spoil our lives. God gave them to us; we’re responsible to Him. It will spoil them, Stanor, if there’s not real, real love between us. Now tell me ... look in my eyes and tell me, Stanor ... do you want me?”
But he could not face her. He wrenched himself free of her grasp, turned towards the mantelpiece, and with a groan buried his face in his hands.
“Pixie, you ... you shame me ... you cover me with shame! I ought to have known that I could not deceive you. ... You are not the sort to be deceived. ... It’s worse than you think. ... When the temptation came, I could have kept out of the way ... she wanted me to keep away, but I wouldn’t do it. I followed her wherever she went—I— you’d better know the whole truth, and then you’ll understand the kind of fellow I am. It’s not my fault that I wasn’t married months ago, that you didn’t read it in the papers without a word of preparation! That’s what I wanted ... what I proposed. It was she who refused. It is her doing that I am here to-day. She would have nothing to say to me till I had asked you first.—I wanted to stay on in America, settle down there, and keep out of the way—”
He had spoken with his face hidden; now, as he finished speaking, he remained in the same position, and not a sound came to his ears but the ticking of the clock in the corner. He might have been alone in the room; a miserable conviction seized him that he was alone, that between himself and the girl by his side there had arisen an impenetrable wall.