Confidence [93]
and let it pass. And then, it is n't only my feelings; it 's the right; it 's the justice. I must say to her that you have no right to marry her; and beg of her to listen to me and let you go."
"My dear Gordon, are you crazy?" Bernard demanded, with an energy which, this time at least, was sufficiently real.
"Very likely I am crazy. I am crazy with disappointment and the bitterness of what I have lost. Add to that the wretchedness of what I have found!"
"Ah, don't say that, Mr. Wright," Angela begged.
He stood for an instant looking at her, but not heeding her words. "Will you listen to me again? Will you forget the wrong I did you?-- my stupidity and folly and unworthiness? Will you blot out the past and let me begin again. I see you as clearly now as the light of that window. Will you give me another chance?"
Angela turned away her eyes and covered her face with her hands. "You do pain me!" she murmured.
"You go too far," said Bernard. "To what position does your extraordinary proposal relegate your wife?"
Gordon turned his pleading eyes on his old friend without a ray of concession; but for a moment he hesitated. "Don't speak to me of my wife. I have no wife."
"Ah, poor girl!" said Angela, springing up from the sofa.
"I am perfectly serious," Gordon went on, addressing himself again to her. "No, after all, I am not crazy; I see only too clearly--I see what should be; when people see that, you call them crazy. Bernard has no right-- he must give you up. If you really care for him, you should help him. He is in a very false position; you should n't wish to see him in such a position. I can't explain to you--if it were even for my own sake. But Bernard must have told you; it is not possible that he has not told you?"
"I have told Angela everything, Gordon," said Bernard.
"I don't know what you mean by your having done me a wrong!" the girl exclaimed.
"If he has told you, then--I may say it! In listening to him, in believing him."
"But you did n't believe me," Bernard exclaimed, "since you immediately went and offered yourself to Miss Vivian!"
"I believed you all the same! When did I ever not believe you?"
"The last words I ever heard from Mr. Wright were words of the deepest kindness," said Angela.
She spoke with such a serious, tender grace, that Gordon seemed stirred to his depths again.
"Ah, give me another chance!" he moaned.
The poor girl could not help her tone, and it was in the same tone that she continued--
"If you think so well of me, try and be reasonable."
Gordon looked at her, slowly shaking his head.
"Reasonable--reasonable? Yes, you have a right to say that, for you are full of reason. But so am I. What I ask is within reasonable limits. "
"Granting your happiness were lost," said Bernard--"I say that only for the argument--is that a ground for your wishing to deprive me of mine?"
"It is not yours--it is mine, that you have taken! You put me off my guard, and then you took it! Yours is elsewhere, and you are welcome to it!"
"Ah," murmured Bernard, giving him a long look and turning away, "it is well for you that I am willing still to regard you as my best friend!"
Gordon went on, more passionately, to Angela.
"He put me off my guard--I can't call it anything else. I know I gave him a great chance--I encouraged him, urged him, tempted him. But when once he had spoken, he should have stood to it. He should n't have had two opinions--one for me, and one for himself! He put me off my guard. It was because I still resisted him that I went to you again, that last time. But I was still afraid of you, and in my heart I believed him. As I say, I always believed him; it was his great influence upon me. He is the cleverest, the most intelligent, the most brilliant of men. I don't think that a grain less than I ever thought it," he continued, turning again to Bernard. "I think it only the more, and I don't wonder that you find a woman to believe it. But what have you done but deceive me? It was just my belief in your
"My dear Gordon, are you crazy?" Bernard demanded, with an energy which, this time at least, was sufficiently real.
"Very likely I am crazy. I am crazy with disappointment and the bitterness of what I have lost. Add to that the wretchedness of what I have found!"
"Ah, don't say that, Mr. Wright," Angela begged.
He stood for an instant looking at her, but not heeding her words. "Will you listen to me again? Will you forget the wrong I did you?-- my stupidity and folly and unworthiness? Will you blot out the past and let me begin again. I see you as clearly now as the light of that window. Will you give me another chance?"
Angela turned away her eyes and covered her face with her hands. "You do pain me!" she murmured.
"You go too far," said Bernard. "To what position does your extraordinary proposal relegate your wife?"
Gordon turned his pleading eyes on his old friend without a ray of concession; but for a moment he hesitated. "Don't speak to me of my wife. I have no wife."
"Ah, poor girl!" said Angela, springing up from the sofa.
"I am perfectly serious," Gordon went on, addressing himself again to her. "No, after all, I am not crazy; I see only too clearly--I see what should be; when people see that, you call them crazy. Bernard has no right-- he must give you up. If you really care for him, you should help him. He is in a very false position; you should n't wish to see him in such a position. I can't explain to you--if it were even for my own sake. But Bernard must have told you; it is not possible that he has not told you?"
"I have told Angela everything, Gordon," said Bernard.
"I don't know what you mean by your having done me a wrong!" the girl exclaimed.
"If he has told you, then--I may say it! In listening to him, in believing him."
"But you did n't believe me," Bernard exclaimed, "since you immediately went and offered yourself to Miss Vivian!"
"I believed you all the same! When did I ever not believe you?"
"The last words I ever heard from Mr. Wright were words of the deepest kindness," said Angela.
She spoke with such a serious, tender grace, that Gordon seemed stirred to his depths again.
"Ah, give me another chance!" he moaned.
The poor girl could not help her tone, and it was in the same tone that she continued--
"If you think so well of me, try and be reasonable."
Gordon looked at her, slowly shaking his head.
"Reasonable--reasonable? Yes, you have a right to say that, for you are full of reason. But so am I. What I ask is within reasonable limits. "
"Granting your happiness were lost," said Bernard--"I say that only for the argument--is that a ground for your wishing to deprive me of mine?"
"It is not yours--it is mine, that you have taken! You put me off my guard, and then you took it! Yours is elsewhere, and you are welcome to it!"
"Ah," murmured Bernard, giving him a long look and turning away, "it is well for you that I am willing still to regard you as my best friend!"
Gordon went on, more passionately, to Angela.
"He put me off my guard--I can't call it anything else. I know I gave him a great chance--I encouraged him, urged him, tempted him. But when once he had spoken, he should have stood to it. He should n't have had two opinions--one for me, and one for himself! He put me off my guard. It was because I still resisted him that I went to you again, that last time. But I was still afraid of you, and in my heart I believed him. As I say, I always believed him; it was his great influence upon me. He is the cleverest, the most intelligent, the most brilliant of men. I don't think that a grain less than I ever thought it," he continued, turning again to Bernard. "I think it only the more, and I don't wonder that you find a woman to believe it. But what have you done but deceive me? It was just my belief in your