English
Aswewalkedroundtothefrontofthehouseaflyfromtherailwayapproachedusalongthedrive.
MissHalcombewaitedonthedoor-stepsuntiltheflydrewup,andthenadvancedtoshakehandswithanoldgentleman,whogotoutbrisklythemomentthestepswereletdown.Mr.Gilmorehadarrived.
Ilookedathim,whenwewereintroducedtoeachother,withaninterestandacuriositywhichIcouldhardlyconceal.
ThisoldmanwastoremainatLimmeridgeHouseafterIhadleftit,hewastohearSirPercivalGlyde’sexplanation,andwastogiveMissHalcombetheassistanceofhisexperienceinformingherjudgment;hewastowaituntilthequestionofthemarriagewassetatrest;andhishand,ifthatquestionweredecidedintheaffirmative,wastodrawthesettlementwhichboundMissFairlieirrevocablytoherengagement.
Eventhen,whenIknewnothingbycomparisonwithwhatIknownow,IlookedatthefamilylawyerwithaninterestwhichIhadneverfeltbeforeinthepresenceofanymanbreathingwhowasatotalstrangertome.
InexternalappearanceMr.Gilmorewastheexactoppositeoftheconventionalideaofanoldlawyer.
Hiscomplexionwasflorid—hiswhitehairwaswornratherlongandkeptcarefullybrushed—hisblackcoat,waistcoat,andtrousersfittedhimwithperfectneatness—hiswhitecravatwascarefullytied,andhislavender-colouredkidglovesmighthaveadornedthehandsofafashionableclergyman,withoutfearandwithoutreproach.
Hismannerswerepleasantlymarkedbytheformalgraceandrefinementoftheoldschoolofpoliteness,quickenedbytheinvigoratingsharpnessandreadinessofamanwhosebusinessinlifeobligeshimalwaystokeephisfacultiesingoodworkingorder.
Asanguineconstitutionandfairprospectstobeginwith—alongsubsequentcareerofcreditableandcomfortableprosperity—acheerful,diligent,widely-respectedoldage—suchwerethegeneralimpressionsIderivedfrommyintroductiontoMr.Gilmore,anditisbutfairtohimtoadd,thattheknowledgeIgainedbylaterandbetterexperienceonlytendedtoconfirmthem.
IlefttheoldgentlemanandMissHalcombetoenterthehousetogether,andtotalkoffamilymattersundisturbedbytherestraintofastranger’spresence.
Theycrossedthehallontheirwaytothedrawing-room,andIdescendedthestepsagaintowanderaboutthegardenalone.
MyhourswerenumberedatLimmeridgeHouse—mydeparturethenextmorningwasirrevocablysettled—myshareintheinvestigationwhichtheanonymousletterhadrenderednecessarywasatanend.
NoharmcouldbedonetoanyonebutmyselfifIletmyheartlooseagain,forthelittletimethatwasleftme,fromthecoldcrueltyofrestraintwhichnecessityhadforcedmetoinflictuponit,andtookmyfarewellofthesceneswhichwereassociatedwiththebriefdream-timeofmyhappinessandmylove.
Iturnedinstinctivelytothewalkbeneathmystudy-window,whereIhadseenhertheeveningbeforewithherlittledog,andfollowedthepathwhichherdearfeethadtroddensooften,tillIcametothewicketgatethatledintoherrosegarden.
Thewinterbarenessspreaddrearilyoveritnow.
Theflowersthatshehadtaughtmetodistinguishbytheirnames,theflowersthatIhadtaughthertopaintfrom,weregone,andthetinywhitepathsthatledbetweenthebedsweredampandgreenalready.
Iwentontotheavenueoftrees,wherewehadbreathedtogetherthewarmfragranceofAugustevenings,wherewehadadmiredtogetherthemyriadcombinationsofshadeandsunlightthatdappledthegroundatourfeet.
Theleavesfellaboutmefromthegroaningbranches,andtheearthydecayintheatmospherechilledmetothebones.
Alittlefartheron,andIwasoutofthegrounds,andfollowingthelanethatwoundgentlyupwardtothenearesthills.
Theoldfelledtreebythewayside,onwhichwehadsattorest,wassoddenwithrain,andthetuftoffernsandgrasseswhichIhaddrawnforher,nestlingundertheroughstonewallinfrontofus,hadturnedtoapoolofwater,stagnatingroundanislandofdraggledweeds.
Igainedthesummitofthehill,andlookedattheviewwhichwehadsooftenadmiredinthehappiertime.
Itwascoldandbarren—itwasnolongertheviewthatIremembered.
Thesunshineofherpresencewasfarfromme-thecharmofhervoicenolongermurmuredinmyear.
Shehadtalkedtome,onthespotfromwhichInowlookeddown,ofherfather,whowasherlastsurvivingparent—hadtoldmehowfondofeachothertheyhadbeen,andhowsadlyshemissedhimstillwhensheenteredcertainroomsinthehouse,andwhenshetookupforgottenoccupationsandamusementswithwhichhehadbeenassociated.
WastheviewthatIhadseen,whilelisteningtothosewords,theviewthatIsawnow,standingonthehill-topbymyself?
Iturnedandleftit—Iwoundmywaybackagain,overthemoor,androundthesandhills,downtothebeach.
Therewasthewhiterageofthesurf,andthemultitudinousgloryoftheleapingwaves—butwherewastheplaceonwhichshehadoncedrawnidlefigureswithherparasolinthesand—theplacewherewehadsattogether,whileshetalkedtomeaboutmyselfandmyhome,whilesheaskedmeawoman’sminutelyobservantquestionsaboutmymotherandmysister,andinnocentlywonderedwhetherIshouldeverleavemylonelychambersandhaveawifeandahouseofmyown?
Windandwavehadlongsincesmoothedoutthetraceofherwhichshehadleftinthosemarksonthesand,Ilookedoverthewidemonotonyoftheseasideprospect,andtheplaceinwhichwetwohadidledawaythesunnyhourswasaslosttomeasifIhadneverknownit,asstrangetomeasifIstoodalreadyonaforeignshore.
Theemptysilenceofthebeachstruckcoldtomyheart.Ireturnedtothehouseandthegarden,wheretraceswerelefttospeakofherateveryturn.
OnthewestterracewalkImetMr.Gilmore.
Hewasevidentlyinsearchofme,forhequickenedhispacewhenwecaughtsightofeachother.
Thestateofmyspiritslittlefittedmeforthesocietyofastranger;butthemeetingwasinevitable,andIresignedmyselftomakethebestofit.
“YouaretheverypersonIwantedtosee,”saidtheoldgentleman.
“Ihadtwowordstosaytoyou,mydearsir;andIfyouhavenoobjectionIwillavailmyselfofthepresentopportunity.
Toputitplainly,MissHalcombeandIhavebeentalkingoverfamilyaffairs—affairswhicharethecauseofmybeinghere—andinthecourseofourconversationshewasnaturallyledtotellmeofthisunpleasantmatterconnectedwiththeanonymousletter,andofthesharewhichyouhavemostcreditablyandproperlytakenintheproceedingssofar.
Thatshare,Iquiteunderstand,givesyouaninterestwhichyoumightnototherwisehavefelt,inknowingthatthefuturemanagementoftheinvestigationwhichyouhavebegunwillbeplacedinsafehands.
Mydearsir,makeyourselfquiteeasyonthatpoint—itwillbeplacedinMYhands.”
“Youare,ineveryway,Mr.Gilmore,muchfittertoadviseandtoactinthematterthanIam.Isitanindiscretiononmyparttoaskifyouhavedecidedyetonacourseofproceeding?
“Sofarasitispossibletodecide,Mr.Hartright,Ihavedecided.
Imeantosendacopyoftheletter,accompaniedbyastatementofthecircumstances,toSirPercivalGlyde’ssolicitorinLondon,withwhomIhavesomeacquaintance.
TheletteritselfIshallkeepheretoshowtoSirPercivalassoonashearrives.
ThetracingofthetwowomenIhavealreadyprovidedfor,bysendingoneofMr.Fairlie’sservants—aconfidentialperson—tothestationtomakeinquiries.
Themanhashismoneyandhisdirections,andhewillfollowthewomenintheeventofhisfindinganyclue.
ThisisallthatcanbedoneuntilSirPercivalcomesonMonday.
Ihavenodoubtmyselfthateveryexplanationwhichcanbeexpectedfromagentlemanandamanofhonour,hewillreadilygive.
SirPercivalstandsveryhigh,sir—aneminentposition,areputationabovesuspicion—Ifeelquiteeasyaboutresults—quiteeasy,Iamrejoicedtoassureyou.
Thingsofthissorthappenconstantlyinmyexperience.
Anonymousletters—unfortunatewoman—sadstateofsociety.
Idon’tdenythattherearepeculiarcomplicationsinthiscase;butthecaseitselfis,mostunhappily,common—common.”
“Iamafraid,Mr.Gilmore,IhavethemisfortunetodifferfromyouintheviewItakeofthecase.”
“Justso,mydearsir—justso.Iamanoldman,andItakethepracticalview.
Youareayoungman,andyoutaketheromanticview.Letusnotdisputeaboutourviews.
Iliveprofessionallyinanatmosphereofdisputation,Mr.Hartright,andIamonlytoogladtoescapefromit,asIamescapinghere.
Wewillwaitforevents—yes,yes,yes—wewillwaitforevents.Charmingplacethis.Goodshooting?
Probablynot,noneofMr.Fairlie’slandispreserved,Ithink.
Charmingplace,though,anddelightfulpeople.
Youdrawandpaint,Ihear,Mr.Hartright?Enviableaccomplishment.Whatstyle?”
Wedroppedintogeneralconversation,orrather,Mr.GilmoretalkedandIlistened.
Myattentionwasfarfromhim,andfromthetopicsonwhichhediscoursedsofluently.
Thesolitarywalkofthelasttwohourshadwroughtitseffectonme—ithadsettheideainmymindofhasteningmydeparturefromLimmeridgeHouse.
WhyshouldIprolongthehardtrialofsayingfarewellbyoneunnecessaryminute?
Whatfurtherservicewasrequiredofmebyanyone?
TherewasnousefulpurposetobeservedbymystayinCumberland—therewasnorestrictionoftimeinthepermissiontoleavewhichmyemployerhadgrantedtome.Whynotenditthereandthen?
Ideterminedtoendit.Thereweresomehoursofdaylightstillleft—therewasnoreasonwhymyjourneybacktoLondonshouldnotbeginonthatafternoon.
ImadethefirstcivilexcusethatoccurredtomeforleavingMr.Gilmore,andreturnedatoncetothehouse.
OnmywayuptomyownroomImetMissHalcombeonthestairs.Shesaw,bythehurryofmymovementsandthechangeinmymanner,thatIhadsomenewpurposeinview,andaskedwhathadhappened.
Itoldherthereasonswhichinducedmetothinkofhasteningmydeparture,exactlyasIhavetoldthemhere.
“No,no,”shesaid,earnestlyandkindly,“leaveuslikeafriend—breakbreadwithusoncemore.
Stayhereanddine,stayhereandhelpustospendourlasteveningwithyouashappily,aslikeourfirstevenings,aswecan.
Itismyinvitation—Mrs.Vesey’sinvitation——”shehesitatedalittle,andthenadded,“Laura’sinvitationaswell.”
Ipromisedtoremain.GodknowsIhadnowishtoleaveeventheshadowofasorrowfulimpressionwithanyoneofthem.
Myownroomwasthebestplaceformetillthedinnerbellrang.Iwaitedtheretillitwastimetogodownstairs.
IhadnotspokentoMissFairlie—Ihadnotevenseenher—allthatday.
Thefirstmeetingwithher,whenIenteredthedrawing-room,wasahardtrialtoherself-controlandtomine.
She,too,haddoneherbesttomakeourlasteveningrenewthegoldenbygonetime—thetimethatcouldnevercomeagain.
ShehadputonthedresswhichIusedtoadmiremorethananyotherthatshepossessed—adarkbluesilk,trimmedquaintlyandprettilywithold-fashionedlace;shecameforwardtomeetmewithherformerreadiness—shegavemeherhandwiththefrank,innocentgood-willofhappierdays.
Thecoldfingersthattrembledroundmine—thepalecheekswithabrightredspotburninginthemidstofthem—thefaintsmilethatstruggledtoliveonherlipsanddiedawayfromthemwhileIlookedatit,toldmeatwhatsacrificeofherselfheroutwardcomposurewasmaintained.
Myheartcouldtakehernoclosertome,orIshouldhavelovedherthenasIhadneverlovedheryet.
Mr.Gilmorewasagreatassistancetous.
Hewasinhighgood-humour,andheledtheconversationwithunflaggingspirit.
MissHalcombesecondedhimresolutely,andIdidallIcouldtofollowherexample.
Thekindblueeyes,whoseslightestchangesofexpressionIhadlearnttointerpretsowell,lookedatmeappealinglywhenwefirstsatdowntotable.
Helpmysister—thesweetanxiousfaceseemedtosay—helpmysister,andyouwillhelpme.
Wegotthroughthedinner,toalloutwardappearanceatleast,happilyenough.
Whentheladieshadrisenfromtable,andMr.GilmoreandIwereleftaloneinthedining-room,anewinterestpresenteditselftooccupyourattention,andtogivemeanopportunityofquietingmyselfbyafewminutesofneedfulandwelcomesilence.
TheservantwhohadbeendespatchedtotraceAnneCatherickandMrs.Clementsreturnedwithhisreport,andwasshownintothedining-roomimmediately.
“Well,”saidMr.Gilmore,“whathaveyoufoundout?”
“Ihavefoundout,sir,”answeredtheman,“thatboththewomentookticketsatourstationhereforCarlisle.”
“YouwenttoCarlisle,ofcourse,whenyouheardthat?”
“Idid,sir,butIamsorrytosayIcouldfindnofurthertraceofthem.”
“Youinquiredattherailway?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Andatthedifferentinns?”
“Yes,sir.”
“AndyouleftthestatementIwroteforyouatthepolicestation?”
“Idid,sir.”
“Well,myfriend,youhavedoneallyoucould,andIhavedoneallIcould,andtherethemattermustresttillfurthernotice.
Wehaveplayedourtrumpcards,Mr.Hartright,”continuedtheoldgentlemanwhentheservanthadwithdrawn.
“Forthepresent,atleast,thewomenhaveoutmanoeuvredus,andouronlyresourcenowistowaittillSirPercivalGlydecomeshereonMondaynext.Won’tyoufillyourglassagain?
Goodbottleofport,that—sound,substantial,oldwine.
Ihavegotbetterinmyowncellar,though.”
Wereturnedtothedrawing-room—theroominwhichthehappiesteveningsofmylifehadbeenpassed—theroomwhich,afterthislastnight,Iwasnevertoseeagain.
Itsaspectwasalteredsincethedayshadshortenedandtheweatherhadgrowncold.
Theglassdoorsontheterracesidewereclosed,andhiddenbythickcurtains.
Insteadofthesofttwilightobscurity,inwhichweusedtosit,thebrightradiantglowoflamplightnowdazzledmyeyes.
Allwaschanged—in-doorsandoutallwaschanged.
MissHalcombeandMr.Gilmoresatdowntogetheratthecard-table—Mrs.Veseytookhercustomarychair.
TherewasnorestraintonthedisposalofTHEIRevening,andIfelttherestraintonthedisposalofmineallthemorepainfullyfromobservingit.
IsawMissFairlielingeringnearthemusic-stand.
ThetimehadbeenwhenImighthavejoinedherthere.
Iwaitedirresolutely—Iknewneitherwheretogonorwhattodonext.
Shecastonequickglanceatme,tookapieceofmusicsuddenlyfromthestand,andcametowardsmeofherownaccord.
“ShallIplaysomeofthoselittlemelodiesofMozart’swhichyouusedtolikesomuch?”sheasked,openingthemusicnervously,andlookingdownatitwhileshespoke.
BeforeIcouldthankhershehastenedtothepiano.
Thechairnearit,whichIhadalwaysbeenaccustomedtooccupy,stoodempty.
Shestruckafewchords—thenglancedroundatme—thenlookedbackagainathermusic.
“Won’tyoutakeyouroldplace?”shesaid,speakingveryabruptlyandinverylowtones.
“Imaytakeitonthelastnight,”Ianswered.
Shedidnotreply—shekeptherattentionrivetedonthemusic—musicwhichsheknewbymemory,whichshehadplayedoverandoveragain,informertimes,withoutthebook.
Ionlyknewthatshehadheardme,Ionlyknewthatshewasawareofmybeingclosetoher,byseeingtheredspotonthecheekthatwasnearesttomefadeout,andthefacegrowpaleallover.
“Iamverysorryyouaregoing,”shesaid,hervoicealmostsinkingtoawhisper,hereyeslookingmoreandmoreintentlyatthemusic,herfingersflyingoverthekeysofthepianowithastrangefeverishenergywhichIhadnevernoticedinherbefore.
“Ishallrememberthosekindwords,MissFairlie,longafterto-morrowhascomeandgone.”
Thepalenessgrewwhiteronherface,andsheturneditfartherawayfromme.
“Don’tspeakofto-morrow,”shesaid.“Letthemusicspeaktousofto-night,inahappierlanguagethanours.”
Herlipstrembled—afaintsighflutteredfromthem,whichshetriedvainlytosuppress.
Herfingerswaveredonthepiano—shestruckafalsenote,confusedherselfintryingtosetitright,anddroppedherhandsangrilyonherlap.
MissHalcombeandMr.Gilmorelookedupinastonishmentfromthecard-tableatwhichtheywereplaying.
EvenMrs.Vesey,dozinginherchair,wokeatthesuddencessationofthemusic,andinquiredwhathadhappened.
“Youplayatwhist,Mr.Hartright?”askedMissHalcombe,withhereyesdirectedsignificantlyattheplaceIoccupied.
Iknewwhatshemeant—Iknewshewasright,andIroseatoncetogotothecard-table.AsIleftthepianoMissFairlieturnedapageofthemusic,andtouchedthekeysagainwithasurerhand.
“IWILLplayit,”shesaid,strikingthenotesalmostpassionately.“IWILLplayitonthelastnight.”
“Come,Mrs.Vesey,”saidMissHalcombe,“Mr.GilmoreandIaretiredofecarte—comeandbeMr.Hartright’spartneratwhist.”
Theoldlawyersmiledsatirically.Hishadbeenthewinninghand,andhehadjustturnedupaking.
HeevidentlyattributedMissHalcombe’sabruptchangeinthecard-tablearrangementstoalady’sinabilitytoplaythelosinggame.
Therestoftheeveningpassedwithoutawordoralookfromher.
Shekeptherplaceatthepiano,andIkeptmineatthecard-table.
Sheplayedunintermittingly—playedasifthemusicwasheronlyrefugefromherself.
Sometimesherfingerstouchedthenoteswithalingeringfondness—asoft,plaintive,dyingtenderness,unutterablybeautifulandmournfultohear;sometimestheyfalteredandfailedher,orhurriedovertheinstrumentmechanically,asiftheirtaskwasaburdentothem.
Butstill,changeandwaverastheymightintheexpressiontheyimpartedtothemusic,theirresolutiontoplayneverfaltered.
SheonlyrosefromthepianowhenweallrosetosayGood-night.
Mrs.Veseywasthenearesttothedoor,andthefirsttoshakehandswithme.
“Ishallnotseeyouagain,Mr.Hartright,”saidtheoldlady.“Iamtrulysorryyouaregoingaway.
Youhavebeenverykindandattentive,andanoldwomanlikemefeelskindnessandattention.
Iwishyouhappy,sir—Iwishyouakindgood-bye.”
Mr.Gilmorecamenext.
“Ihopeweshallhaveafutureopportunityofbetteringouracquaintance,Mr.Hartright.
Youquiteunderstandaboutthatlittlematterofbusinessbeingsafeinmyhands?Yes,yes,ofcourse.Blessme,howcolditis!Don’tletmekeepyouatthedoor.
Bonvoyage,mydearsir—bonvoyage,astheFrenchsay.”
MissHalcombefollowed.
“Half-pastsevento-morrowmorning,”shesaid—thenaddedinawhisper,“Ihaveheardandseenmorethanyouthink.Yourconductto-nighthasmademeyourfriendforlife.”
MissFairliecamelast.IcouldnottrustmyselftolookatherwhenItookherhand,andwhenIthoughtofthenextmorning.
“Mydeparturemustbeaveryearlyone,”Isaid.“Ishallbegone,MissFairlie,beforeyou——”
“No,no,”sheinterposedhastily,“notbeforeIamoutofmyroom.IshallbedowntobreakfastwithMarian.Iamnotsoungrateful,notsoforgetfulofthepastthreemonths——”
Hervoicefailedher,herhandclosedgentlyroundmine—thendroppeditsuddenly.BeforeIcouldsay“Good-night”shewasgone.
Theendcomesfasttomeetme—comesinevitably,asthelightofthelastmorningcameatLimmeridgeHouse.
Itwasbarelyhalf-pastsevenwhenIwentdownstairs,butIfoundthembothatthebreakfast-tablewaitingforme.
Inthechillair,inthedimlight,inthegloomymorningsilenceofthehouse,wethreesatdowntogether,andtriedtoeat,triedtotalk.
Thestruggletopreserveappearanceswashopelessanduseless,andIrosetoendit.
AsIheldoutmyhand,asMissHalcombe,whowasnearesttome,tookit,MissFairlieturnedawaysuddenlyandhurriedfromtheroom.
“Betterso,”saidMissHalcombe,whenthedoorhadclosed—“betterso,foryouandforher.”
IwaitedamomentbeforeIcouldspeak—itwashardtoloseher,withoutapartingwordorapartinglook.
Icontrolledmyself—ItriedtotakeleaveofMissHalcombeinfittingterms;butallthefarewellwordsIwouldfainhavespokendwindledtoonesentence.
“HaveIdeservedthatyoushouldwritetome?”wasallIcouldsay.
“YouhavenoblydeservedeverythingthatIcandoforyou,aslongaswebothlive.Whatevertheendisyoushallknowit.”
“AndifIcaneverbeofhelpagain,atanyfuturetime,longafterthememoryofmypresumptionandmyfollyisforgotten”
Icouldaddnomore.Myvoicefaltered,myeyesmoistenedinspiteofme.
Shecaughtmebybothhands—shepressedthemwiththestrong,steadygraspofaman—herdarkeyesglittered—herbrowncomplexionflusheddeep—theforceandenergyofherfaceglowedandgrewbeautifulwiththepureinnerlightofhergenerosityandherpity.
“Iwilltrustyou—ifeverthetimecomesIwilltrustyouasmyfriendandHERfriend,asmybrotherandHERbrother.”
Shestopped,drewmenearertoher—thefearless,noblecreature—touchedmyforehead,sister-like,withherlips,andcalledmebymyChristianname.“Godblessyou,Walter!”shesaid.
“Waitherealoneandcomposeyourself—Ihadbetternotstayforbothoursakes—Ihadbetterseeyougofromthebalconyupstairs.”
Shelefttheroom.Iturnedawaytowardsthewindow,wherenothingfacedmebutthelonelyautumnlandscape—Iturnedawaytomastermyself,beforeItoolefttheroominmyturn,andleftitforever.
Aminutepassed—itcouldhardlyhavebeenmore—whenIheardthedooropenagainsoftly,andtherustlingofawoman’sdressonthecarpetmovedtowardsme.
MyheartbeatviolentlyasIturnedround.
MissFairliewasapproachingmefromthefartherendoftheroom.
Shestoppedandhesitatedwhenoureyesmet,andwhenshesawthatwewerealone.
Then,withthatcouragewhichwomenlosesoofteninthesmallemergency,andsoseldominthegreat,shecameonnearertome,strangelypaleandstrangelyquiet,drawingonehandafterheralongthetablebywhichshewalked,andholdingsomethingathersideintheother,whichwashiddenbythefoldsofherdress.
“Ionlywentintothedrawing-room,”shesaid,“tolookforthis.
Itmayremindyouofyourvisithere,andofthefriendsyouleavebehindyou.
YoutoldmeIhadimprovedverymuchwhenIdidit,andIthoughtyoumightlike——”
Sheturnedherheadaway,andofferedmealittlesketch,drawnthroughoutbyherownpencil,ofthesummer-houseinwhichwehadfirstmet.
Thepapertrembledinherhandasshehelditouttome—trembledinmineasItookitfromher.
IwasafraidtosaywhatIfelt—Ionlyanswered,“Itshallneverleaveme—allmylifelongitshallbethetreasurethatIprizemost.
Iamverygratefulforit—verygratefultoyou,fornotlettingmegoawaywithoutbiddingyougood-bye.”
“Oh!”shesaidinnocently,“howcouldIletyougo,afterwehavepassedsomanyhappydaystogether!”
“Thosedaysmayneverreturn,MissFairlie—mywayoflifeandyoursareveryfarapart.
Butifatimeshouldcome,whenthedevotionofmywholeheartandsoulandstrengthwillgiveyouamoment’shappiness,orspareyouamoment’ssorrow,willyoutrytorememberthepoordrawing-masterwhohastaughtyou?
MissHalcombehaspromisedtotrustme—willyoupromisetoo?”
Thefarewellsadnessinthekindblueeyesshonedimlythroughhergatheringtears.
“Ipromiseit,”shesaidinbrokentones.“Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat!Ipromiseitwithallmyheart.”
Iventuredalittlenearertoher,andheldoutmyhand.
“Youhavemanyfriendswholoveyou,MissFairlie.Yourhappyfutureisthedearobjectofmanyhopes.MayIsay,atparting,thatitisthedearobjectofMYhopestoo?”
Thetearsflowedfastdownhercheeks.Sherestedonetremblinghandonthetabletosteadyherselfwhileshegavemetheother.Itookitinmine—Ihelditfast.
Myheaddroopedoverit,mytearsfellonit,mylipspressedit—notinlove;oh,notinlove,atthatlastmoment,butintheagonyandtheself-abandonmentofdespair.
“ForGod’ssake,leaveme!”shesaidfaintly.
Theconfessionofherheart’ssecretburstfromherinthosepleadingwords.
Ihadnorighttohearthem,norighttoanswerthem—theywerethewordsthatbanishedme,inthenameofhersacredweakness,fromtheroom.Itwasallover.Idroppedherhand,Isaidnomore.
Theblindingtearsshutheroutfrommyeyes,andIdashedthemawaytolookatherforthelasttime.
Onelookasshesankintoachair,asherarmsfellonthetable,asherfairheaddroppedonthemwearily.
Onefarewelllook,andthedoorhadcloseduponher—thegreatgulfofseparationhadopenedbetweenus—theimageofLauraFairliewasamemoryofthepastalready.
TheEndofHartright’sNarrative.
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