“I am sorry to leave you,” said the older man, as he lifted his hat in farewell, “but—considering everything, primarily of course your own wishes—it cannot be helped.”
“And it will only be for a very few minutes that you will be alone,” added the younger one.
“I do not mind in the least,” I replied. “I only wish, O Mr Grey,”—involuntarily almost the name escaped me, and at its sound he stopped and half moved—“will you not allow us to apologise to you—we shall probably not have another opportunity of doing so—for our unwarrantable, our impertinent—” (at this word I felt, rather than saw, that Moore grew red) “intrusion? I do not know how to express what I feel, nor how to thank you for your kindness.”
“My dear young lady,” replied the hermit, “pray do not take the matter so much to heart. Mr—my friend here, has explained it to me. I cannot see that you personally have anything whatever to reproach yourself with, and as for your brother—why,” and for the first time the cold, almost hard, voice softened, “I know well the love of adventure and—and—” he seemed at a loss to find a word, evidently unwilling to supply so hurting a one as “curiosity”—“and all that sort of thing of young folk. You may rely on us to keep this affair to ourselves, and I trust the doctor’s report will relieve your anxiety.”
Then, for the second time, he lifted his hat, and in another moment both he and his companion had disappeared.
“Moore,” I said, as soon as I was sure that the two were well out of hearing, “Moore, they—he—that poor man has been very, very good about it.”
“Yes,” he agreed, meekly enough at first, “he has. All the same, Reggie, I don’t see that you need have spoken of what I did—it was only a bit of a lark after all—as ‘impertinent’.”
“I did not apply it only to you,” I replied. “I said our. And you needn’t suppose I don’t blame myself. I do, bitterly, and I shall do so as long as I live, for having tried to pry into these poor people’s secret—above all, for having put it into your head to do so.” Here Moore grunted, but he did not attempt any further defence. “You don’t know how I hated being told I was not to blame at all, and not being able to confess that I was.”
“Why weren’t you able?” Moore asked.
“Because of course it would only have made it far worse for the Greys to hear how, after all these years, they are still talked over. And besides that, I should have had to bring in poor Isabel! But for her, I shouldn’t have so much minded telling the other man how inquisitive I had been—only after all, there was really no time to explain.”