Cerini was at a loss to understand his manner or his words.
“What has happened?” he asked, sympathetically. “Is there some complication of which I know not?”
Armstrong bowed his head, overcome for the moment by an overwhelming sense of his own impotency.
“What is it?” urged the old man, himself affected by his companion’s attitude. “I have missed you sadly at the library these weeks, and I am impatient for your return.”
“I shall never return!” cried Armstrong, fiercely. “I have proved myself utterly unworthy of the work I undertook with you.”
“My son! my son!” Cerini was aghast at what he heard. Then his voice softened as he thought he divined the explanation.
“Slowly, slowly,” he said, soothingly. “It is too soon to put so heavy a burden upon your brain after the shock it has sustained. There is no haste. Your friends at the library will be patient, as you must be.”
Armstrong easily read what was passing through the librarian’s mind, and it increased his bitterness against himself. Cerini’s calmness, however, quieted him, and he was more contained as he replied.
“I wish that the facts were as you think,” he said, decisively. “It would be a positive relief to me if I could believe that my mind was still unbalanced as a result of the accident, but it is so nearly recovered that I must consider myself practically well. But I am glad of this chance to tell you how we have both been deceived. It will be a comfort to have you act as my confessor, and if your affection still holds after my recital I know that you will advise me as to what future course I must pursue.”
In tense, clear-cut sentences Armstrong poured out to Cerini the story of the past months as he looked back upon them. He was frank in speaking of what he believed to be his accomplishments, as he was pitiless in his arraignment of himself in his failures. He showed how he had assimilated the lessons of the past only in his capacity of scribe; he explained how self-centred, selfish, and neglectful of his duty toward others he had been in his personal life. He spoke freely of his companionship with Miss Thayer, of her unquestioned affection for him, and of the impressions which had been made upon Helen and the Contessa Morelli. He insisted simply yet forcefully upon his own loyalty to Helen, not from a sense of duty, as she firmly believed, but because his devotion had never wavered.