'Effie,' said Armorel, presently, 'I cannot tell you what all this means.'
'It means a man who has fallen,' said the girl, wise with poetic instinct. 'Anyone could see failure and shame written on his face. It ought to be a noble face, but something has gone out of it. You knew him long ago—when he was different—and you tried to bring him to his old self. Oh! Armorel—you are wonderful—you were his better spirit—you were his muse—calling him back.'
She laid her hand in Armorel's. They stood together in silence. Then Armorel spoke.
'I feared it was quite another man—a new man—a stranger that I had found. But it was not. It was the same man after all.'
Effie stooped and picked up a fragment of paper lying on the hearth. 'Mr. Feilding's signature,' she said, unthinking. At times, when one is moved, trifles sometimes seem to acquire importance.
'That? It is a part of a cheque which he tore up. Effie, dear—it was good of you to go away and leave us when you did. Perhaps he would not have spoken so freely if you had been here. Oh! he is the same man, after all. He has come back to me. Effie, tell me; but you know no more than I. If you once loved a man, and if you suffered the thought of him to lie in your heart for years, and if you filled him with all the virtues that there are, and if he grew in your heart to be a knight perfect at all points——'
'Well, Armorel?' For she stopped, and Effie took her hand.
'Oh! Effie,' she replied, with glowing cheeks; 'could you ever afterwards love another man? Could you ever cease to love that man of your imagination? Could any meaner man content you? For my part—never!—never!—never!'