It was true that she herself helped him little to definite conclusions, and that he remained in puzzled doubt as to whether these happy touches were still a matter of the heart, or had become simply a matter of the conscience.He watched for signs that she rejoiced in Roderick's renewed acceptance of her society; but it seemed to him that she was on her guard against interpreting it too largely.
It was now her turn--he fancied that he sometimes gathered from certain nameless indications of glance and tone and gesture--it was now her turn to be indifferent, to care for other things.
Again and again Rowland asked himself what these things were that Miss Garland might be supposed to care for, to the injury of ideal constancy;and again, having designated them, he divided them into two portions.
One was that larger experience, in general, which had come to her with her arrival in Europe; the vague sense, borne in upon her imagination, that there were more things one might do with one's life than youth and ignorance and Northampton had dreamt of;the revision of old pledges in the light of new emotions.
The other was the experience, in especial, of Rowland's--what?
Here Rowland always paused, in perfect sincerity, to measure afresh his possible claim to the young girl's regard.What might he call it?
It had been more than civility and yet it had been less than devotion.
It had spoken of a desire to serve, but it had said nothing of a hope of reward.Nevertheless, Rowland's fancy hovered about the idea that it was recompensable, and his reflections ended in a reverie which perhaps did not define it, but at least, on each occasion, added a little to its volume.Since Miss Garland had asked him as a sort of favor to herself to come also to Switzerland, he thought it possible she might let him know whether he seemed to have effectively served her.The days passed without her doing so, and at last Rowland walked away to an isolated eminence some five miles from the inn and murmured to the silent rocks that she was ungrateful.
Listening nature seemed not to contradict him, so that, on the morrow, he asked the young girl, with an infinitesimal touch of irony, whether it struck her that his deflection from his Florentine plan had been attended with brilliant results.
"Why, we are delighted that you are with us!" she answered.
He was anything but satisfied with this; it seemed to imply that she had forgotten that she had solemnly asked him to come.
He reminded her of her request, and recalled the place and time.
"That evening on the terrace, late, after Mrs.Hudson had gone to bed, and Roderick being absent."She perfectly remembered, but the memory seemed to trouble her.
"I am afraid your kindness has been a great charge upon you," she said.
"You wanted very much to do something else.""I wanted above all things to oblige you, and I made no sacrifice.
But if I had made an immense one, it would be more than made up to me by any assurance that I have helped Roderick into a better mood."She was silent a moment, and then, "Why do you ask me?" she said.
"You are able to judge quite as well as I."Rowland blushed; he desired to justify himself in the most veracious manner.
"The truth is," he said, "that I am afraid I care only in the second place for Roderick's holding up his head.What I care for in the first place is your happiness.""I don't know why that should be," she answered.
"I have certainly done nothing to make you so much my friend.
If you were to tell me you intended to leave us to-morrow, I am afraid that I should not venture to ask you to stay.
But whether you go or stay, let us not talk of Roderick!""But that," said Rowland, "does n't answer my question.
Is he better?"
"No!" she said, and turned away.
He was careful not to tell her that he intended to leave them.
One day, shortly after this, as the two young men sat at the inn-door watching the sunset, which on that evening was very striking and lurid, Rowland made an attempt to sound his companion's present sentiment touching Christina Light.
"I wonder where she is," he said, "and what sort of a life she is leading her prince."Roderick at first made no response.He was watching a figure on the summit of some distant rocks, opposite to them.
The figure was apparently descending into the valley, and in relief against the crimson screen of the western sky, it looked gigantic."Christina Light?" Roderick at last repeated, as if arousing himself from a reverie."Where she is?
It 's extraordinary how little I care!"
"Have you, then, completely got over it?"To this Roderick made no direct reply; he sat brooding a while.
"She 's a humbug!" he presently exclaimed.
"Possibly!" said Rowland."But I have known worse ones.""She disappointed me!" Roderick continued in the same tone.
"Had she, then, really given you hopes?"
"Oh, don't recall it!" Roderick cried."Why the devil should I think of it? It was only three months ago, but it seems like ten years."His friend said nothing more, and after a while he went on of his own accord."I believed there was a future in it all!
She pleased me--pleased me; and when an artist--such as I was--is pleased, you know!" And he paused again."You never saw her as I did; you never heard her in her great moments.
But there is no use talking about that! At first she would n't regard me seriously; she chaffed me and made light of me.
But at last I forced her to admit I was a great man.
Think of that, sir! Christina Light called me a great man.
A great man was what she was looking for, and we agreed to find our happiness for life in each other.
To please me she promised not to marry till I gave her leave.
I was not in a marrying way myself, but it was damnation to think of another man possessing her.To spare my sensibilities, she promised to turn off her prince, and the idea of her doing so made me as happy as to see a perfect statue shaping itself in the block.
You have seen how she kept her promise! When I learned it, it was as if the statue had suddenly cracked and turned hideous.
