“No, dear,” Inez replied, softly, gently smoothing Helen’s hair as she rested her tired head upon her shoulder. “No—there can be nothing but happiness, now that all is understood.”
“But you—you love Jack, Inez.”
The girl colored as Helen spoke thus freely in the presence of others, but her voice was firm as she replied.
“Helen, dear,” she said, “here in the presence of Mr. Cartwright and Monsignor Cerini I ask your permission to keep in my heart the image of the man I learned to love while we both were beneath the spell. That man no longer exists in the flesh, but I still worship his memory. He can never exist again except as a part of an experience which could never be repeated. Is this asking too much, dear?”
“What does it all mean?” cried Helen, gazing at her helplessly—“what does it all mean?”
“It means that there have been two Jacks, Helen—one of whom became transformed for a time into a veritable master-spirit of the past. To this man, I admit, I gave a devotion which I shall never—could never—give to any other; but he died, Helen, when the spell broke against that wall at the foot of the hill of Settignano. This man, even during his existence, gave me no devotion in return, and knew not the passion which he inspired in me. He had no heart, but it was not his heart I worshipped. To me his mind—broad, comprehensive, and understanding—stood for all that life could give. The other Jack—the man you married—has never wavered in the love he gave you from the first. He has suffered from the influence of the second personality in that he was forced into the background by the greater strength of this sub-conscious self; but he has also gained from its influence in the development which we all have seen. My Jack is dead, but yours still lives. He needs you, and he longs for the return to him of the wife he has always loved.”
Inez paused after her long appeal, eager to read a favorable response in the pale face still gazing at her, but no change came over the set features. Once or twice Helen started to speak, but no words came. Uncle Peabody and Cerini had followed Inez intently, realizing that she was pleading the cause far better than they could. Affected by the scene before them, they found themselves unable to break the silence. At last Helen’s voice came back to her.
“He longs for the return to him of the wife he has always loved?”
She repeated Inez’ words slowly, in the form of a question.
“Yes, dear,” her friend replied; “he is waiting for you now.”