The Splendid Outcast. Gibbs George

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СКАЧАТЬ you seemed most happy." And then quickly, "Is it me that you're worrying about?"

      "About you?" he asked to gain time, and then, grasping at the straw she threw him, "about – you – yes – Moira," he said quietly.

      It was the first definite return to the topic of the morning, which they had both banished as though by an understanding. But Moira was persistent.

      "Why?" she asked.

      "Because – because I don't deserve – all this – from you."

      She smiled softly from her chair nearby.

      "Don't you think I'm the best judge of that?"

      "No," he said miserably. "No."

      "You can't deny a woman the faith of her intuitions."

      "And if I proved your intuitions false – "

      "Sure and I'd never speak to you again," she put in quaintly.

      "It might be better if you didn't," he muttered, half aloud.

      She heard him, or seemed to, for she turned quickly and laid her hand over his.

      "Don't be spoiling our day, dear," she said earnestly. "God has been good in bringing you back to me. Whatever happens I won't be regretting it."

      His fingers caught and pressed hers and then quickly relinquished them as he rose, struggling for his composure.

      "You will regret it," he said fiercely. "I tell you you can't thank God for me, because I'm not what you want to think me. I'm what the Harry you knew in America was, only worse – a liar, a cheat – "

      He paused as she rose, saving himself the revelation on the tip of his tongue by the sight of her face in the firelight as she turned. It was transfigured by her new faith in him, and in her joy in the possession. She came to him quickly, and put her soft fingers over his lips, while the other arm went around his shoulders.

      "Hush, alanah," she said.

      "No – you mustn't, Moira," he muttered, taking her hands down and clasping them both in his. "You mustn't." And then, at the look of disappointment that came into her eyes, caught both her hands to his lips and covered them with kisses. Against the sweet allure of her he struggled, sure that never mortal man had been so tried before, but surer still that the love he bore for her was greater than all temptation.

      She looked at him, flushed at the warmth of this formal caress, which left no doubt of him, but marveling at his renunciation of her lips, which had been so near.

      "I can't be listening when you call yourself such names."

      "You don't understand – and I can't tell you – anything more just now. I haven't – the will."

      He noted the look of alarm which was a token of the suffering he must cause her and he led her to his chair and made her sit.

      "I can't make you unhappy – not to-night. I – I'm sorry you read my thoughts. I shouldn't have let you see."

      He had turned to the fire and leaned against the chimney piece. And after a moment, clear and very tender, he heard her voice.

      "You must tell me everything, alanah. I've got the right to it now."

      He shook his head in silent misery.

      "But you must."

      "No. I can't."

      "Yes. You see, things are different with us two. You've made me know to-day how different. Last night I called to your mind the mockery we'd been through, calling it marriage. But it was a marriage, and the dear God has willed that my heart should beat for you as gently as that of any mother for its babe. It softened in the hospital, dear, when I saw you lying there so pale and weak against the pillows, and I knew that if God spared you for me I would make amends – "

      "You– make amends – " he gasped.

      "By giving you all that I had of faith, hope and charity. Whatever you were, whatever you are, dear, you're mine, for better or for worse, and I believe in you. And your troubles, whatever they are – I'll take my half of them."

      "You can't – " he groaned.

      "Not if they concern me," she continued simply, "for they're mine already."

      He took a pace or two away from her.

      "You mustn't speak to me like this."

      "And why not? You're mine to speak to as I please. Is it that you don't love me enough, alanah?"

      He knew that she wouldn't have asked that question, if she hadn't already seen the answer in his eyes.

      "Love you – ?" he began, his eyes shining like stars. And then suddenly, as though their very glow had burned them out, they turned away, dull and lusterless. She watched him anxiously for a moment and then rose and faced him.

      "Well – " she said softly, "I'm waiting for your answer."

      "I – I can't give you an answer," he said in a colorless voice.

      "Then I'll be giving the answer for you, my dear, for I'm not without eyes in my head. I know you love me and I've been knowing it for many days. And it's the kind of love that a woman wants, the love that gives and asks nothing." She paused, breathing with difficulty, the warm color rising to her temples, and then went on gently, proudly, as though in joy of her confession. "And I – it is the same with me. I've tried to make you understand… It is not for you to give only…" She halted in her speech a moment and then came close to him, her clear gaze seeking his. "I love you, not for what you have suffered, dear – " she whispered, "but for what you are to me – not because you are my husband, but because you are you– the only one in all the world for me."

      "Moira," he whispered, tensely, as his arms went about her. "God forgive me – I worship you."

      "God will forgive you that, alanah," he heard her say happily, "since I do."

      He touched his lips to her brow tenderly … then her lips.

      "You love me," he muttered. "Me? You're sure that it's me that you love?"

      Her eyes opened, startled at his tone.

      "If it isn't you that I love, then I'm sure that I can't be loving any one at all."

      "And you'll believe in me – whatever happens?"

      "I will – " she repeated proudly. "Whatever happens – since this has happened to us both."

      "Some day – you'll know," he muttered painfully, "that I – I'm not what I seem to be. And then I want you to remember this hour, this moment, Moira, as it is to me… I want you to remember how you came into my arms when I hadn't the strength to repel you, remember the touch of my lips in tenderness – and in reverence – Moira … that love was too strong for me … for it has made me false to myself … false to you…"

      She drew away from him a little, deeply perturbed. "You frighten me, alanah."

      "I – I don't want to. To-morrow – " he paused, searching for strength to speak. But it did not come.

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