Beth halted. The parable faltered here. She foresaw a dangerous question, and finished it true to Clarendon.
"Until——" Bedient repeated.
"Until now—and you have seen him to-day," she said hastily. "Always he seems to be aiming at improvement with eager, unabated energy. In many ways, it was hard for me to realize that a horse could be so noble…. And yet I gave to the first something that I didn't have for the second. Something that belonged to the second, was gone from me——"
A moment passed. Beth glanced into Bedient's face, but the darkness was too deep for her to see. When he spoke, it was as steadily as ever:
"I understand clearly, Beth. I should say, don't do the first an injustice. It was those very uncertainties of his, those coltish frights and tempers, that made you so perfect a mistress of the second, for you invariably bring forth the best from the second."
Something big came to her from the utterance. But nothing of the truth—that his heart had just received a death-thrust to its love-giving…. He had left his gloves in the house. He asked for a cup of water…. It was strange—his asking for anything. She could remember only, besides this, his wish expressed that she might ride with him. He had asked nothing this day. And it was a cup of water now…. They were in the lamplight, and he had drunk…. She was standing by the table, and he at the door waiting for her to lift her eyes…. Suddenly she felt, through the silence, his great strength pouring over her.
She looked up at last. There was a dazzling light in his eyes, as if some wonderful good to do had formed in his mind.
"Beth, was he the Other Man—who rested for one day on the mantel in the studio?"
"Yes."… The question shocked her. She could not have believed that it was harder for him to ask, than for her to answer….
He came nearer. Like a spirit he came…. He seemed very tall and tired and white…. Her hand was lifted to his lips, but when she turned, he was gone.