‘Charity!’
He had scarcely ever called her by that formal name before, and Miss Cherry was frightened. ‘Oh!’ she cried, once more clasping her hands. ‘Do not punish me for it! It is not my fault. I know better, for I know you both; but people will say so; and you should deny yourself for her sake.’
‘Does she wish it?’ he said hoarsely. It took him a strenuous effort to keep down his fury; but indeed there was no one to assail.
‘She would not wish anything for herself; it would be her nature to think of you first,’ said Miss Cherry. ‘It is not what she wishes, but what you, me, everybody, ought to wish for her, James.’
He looked round the room with a cloud upon his face. ‘Do you know what I see here?’ he said;—‘my past life, which I cannot recall. Am I to come here disturbing the new life that is beginning in it—filling the place with gloom. That does not matter, does it? Better to think of a few malicious words, and make them the rule of one’s conduct, than strive to follow nature and common sense.’
‘James!’ said Miss Cherry, ‘all the malicious words in the world will do no harm to you!’
‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘You are free, so far as that is concerned,’ said his timid sister, rising from her seat. She looked at him with a mild contempt, strange to be seen in the eyes of so gentle a woman. ‘You can do what you like, James; it is not you who will suffer. Good-night,’ she said.
And though Miss Cherry’s heart beat loudly, she had the courage to go away and leave him there, transfixed with that bold dart thrown by her most timid, faltering hand. He stood still for some time after she had left him, unable to move with pain and astonishment. The ass of Balaam was nothing to this tremendous coup from Miss Cherry. He was struck prostrate. Almost he forgot to think of the room and its recollections, so entirely was he slain by this blow.