Roberts drew a long breath. His big eloquent hands hung free. “Shall I put in words the exact reason you won’t answer, to prove I know?” he asked.
“Yes.” The voice was just audible.
A moment Roberts paused. “It’s because you are afraid, not of me, but of Steve Armstrong: afraid of the way the Lord fashioned him. Elice, come out into the light, please. We must face this thing. You’re not his mother, and you don’t love him otherwise. Tell me, is a sentiment dead greater than one living? Will you, must you, sacrifice the happiness of two for the happiness of one? Answer me, please.”
An instant the girl hesitated; obediently she came out into the light, stood there so, her hand on the pillar of the porch. She did not glance at her companion, did not dare to do so.
“I repeat, I can’t answer you yet,” she said simply. “It’s bitter, cruel to you, I know, and to myself; but it would be infinitely worse if—if I made a mistake.” She paused, while a restless 297 hand swept across her face. “I can’t help feeling that I’m to blame a good deal already, that if I hadn’t changed, and shown the change—” She sat down helplessly, the sentence incomplete. “Oh, I can’t bear to think of it. It drives me mad. To feel you have the responsibility of another’s very soul on your hands, and to have failed in that trust—”
“Elice!”
“Don’t stop me. It’s true. If I had married him years ago when he first wished me to do so he’d never have gone down. I cared for him then, or fancied I did so; and I could have held him up. But instead—”
“Elice! I won’t listen. You’re morbid and see ghosts where nothing exists. You’re no more to blame for being human and awakening than lightning is to blame when it strikes.” He stood up, suddenly. “Besides, the past is dead. To attempt to revive it is useless. The future alone matters; and it’s that I wish to talk about. I can’t bear to think of going away and leaving you as you are now. It’s preposterous. If you cared for Steve I shouldn’t insist for a moment, or trouble you again so long as I lived; but you don’t care for him.” He took a step forward, and stopped where she must look him in the face. 298 “You don’t care for him, that way, do you, Elice?” he asked.
Straight in the eyes the girl answered his look. But the lips spoke nothing.
“And you do love me, love me, don’t you, girl?”