Loving not, hating not, just choosing so....”
Robert Browning: “Caliban Upon Setebos.”
When Eric came back to the hall, he was startled to find O’Rane still sitting there.
“I’d entirely forgotten about you,” he exclaimed. “Have I been a frightful time? You must forgive me. I’m becoming appallingly absent-minded.”
“You haven’t been very long,” answered O’Rane; then he added inconsequently, “I was beginning to fear she might not be so well.”
“A bit unstrung. I just want to scribble a note to Gaisford; then I shall be ready for dinner.”
He hurried into the library, tripped over an unseen obstacle and had almost overbalanced before he discovered that the lights were not turned on.
“I have told Ivy that you say I shall never be well enough to marry,” he wrote. “This may surprise you, but you must back me up. I’m going away as soon as I can get packed and tidied up; I shall be away for at least your two years. I want you to tell people that it’s not serious, but I also want you to convince Ivy that it’s all over. I’ll give you the whole story if you want it; perhaps it’s enough for the present to say that I want above all things to give her a free hand. After all, if she’s still unmarried in two years’ time and if I’m a whole man by then, we can revise our decision. She’s too young to be tied for two years. You might burn this letter and keep the contents to yourself.”
Ivy had been crying as though her heart would break; and Eric had only left her room because his presence seemed to excite her to fresh outbursts, and she was reacting on him. While he wrote his letter, the long-drawn breathless sobs seemed to fill the library—as they had filled it once before on the night when he debated with Gaisford whether he should come to her rescue—; it was imagination, of course, but he wanted to get away as soon as possible, as far as possible. And assuredly there must be no question of seeing her again....
He walked to the door and clutched at the handle as he listened. The sobbing continued, and he wondered how long he would have to hear it. It was almost too clear to be imaginary; O’Rane must be hearing it, too... So might a man go on hearing that one accusing sound until he went mad. He filled his lungs and walked erect into the hall.