In speaking of his wife Armstrong went into minute detail, even going back to his early attempts to interest her in what had later become his grand passion. He described her personal attributes, her love of the present rather than the past, her protective attitude toward her friend even in the face of such distressing circumstances; her generosity toward him; and finally her unalterable conviction that their separation was imperative.
Cerini listened in breathless silence as Armstrong’s story progressed. He himself had played a part in the drama of which his companion was ignorant, and a sense of his own responsibility came to the old man with subtle force. He recalled his first meeting with Helen at the library, he remembered their later conversations, and in his contemplations he almost forgot, for the moment, the man sitting in front of him in his consideration of the splendid development, which he had witnessed without fully realizing it, in this woman whom he had pronounced unfitted by nature to enter into this side of her husband’s work, as she had longed to do. Now, as a result of his lack of foresight, she proposed to eliminate herself from what she considered to be her husband’s problem. “It has been more far-reaching than even you realize,” she had said to him at the reception at Villa Godilombra, and this was what she had meant.
It was several moments after Armstrong ceased speaking before Cerini raised his eyes, and to Jack’s surprise he saw that they were filled with tears. He naturally attributed it to the librarian’s affection for him and his sympathy for his sorrow.
“I should not have told you this, padre,” he said, sadly, pressing the hand which the old man laid tenderly upon his. “The fault is mine, and I should not try to shirk the full responsibility by sharing it with you.”
“It is mine to share with you, my son,” Cerini replied, firmly. “You have erred, as you state. You have been to blame for not giving out again, as the example of the master-spirits of the past should have taught you, those glorious lessons which impart the joy of living to those who give as well as to those who receive. But my error is even heavier. I have lived all my life in this atmosphere, drinking in the knowledge and the spirit which have come to you only within the past few months; yet I failed to recognize in your wife the natural embodiment of all that the best in humanism teaches. What you and I have endeavored to assimilate she has felt and expressed as naturally as she has breathed. She has shown us humanism in its highest development, purified and strengthened by her own fine nature, even though we have given her no opportunity for expression. Thank God we have recognized it at last!”
“You really believe that?” cried Armstrong, recalling his own earlier and less-defined conviction.
“Beyond a doubt,” Cerini answered. “Let us find her, that we may tell her what a victory she has won.”
Armstrong placed a restraining hand upon the old man’s arm. “Not yet,” he said, gently but firmly. “There is much still to be done to prepare her for this knowledge. At present she would not accept it.”
“We must convince her.”
“First of all I must make my peace with Miss Thayer,” Armstrong replied. “Until that complication is relieved there is no hope.”