The Conflict [88]
glad to see me,'' said she. ``But I'm only stopping a very little minute.''
His eyes had softened--softened under the influence of the emotion no man can ever fail to feel at least in some degree at sight of a lovely woman. ``Won't you sit?'' said he, with a glance at the wooden chair near the other side of the table.
She seated herself, resting one gloved hand on the prettily carved end of her white-sunshade. She was wearing a big hat of rough black straw, with a few very gorgeous white plumes. ``What a delightful place to work,'' exclaimed she, looking round, admiring the flowers, the slow ripening grapes, the delicious shade. ``And you--how WELL you look!''
``I've forgotten I was ever anything but well,'' said he.
``You're impatient for me to go,'' she cried laughing. ``It's very rude to show it so plainly.''
``No,'' replied he. ``I am not impatient for you to go. But I ought to be, for I'm very busy.''
``Well, I shall be gone in a moment. I came only to tell you that you are suspecting me wrongly.''
``Suspecting you?--of what?''
``Of having broken my word. I know you must think I got father to set Davy Hull on to upsetting your plans.''
``The idea never entered my head,'' said he. ``You had promised--and I know you are honest.''
Jane colored violently and lowered her eyes. ``I'm not--not up to what you say,'' she protested. ``But at least I didn't break my promise. Davy thought of that himself.''
``I have been assuming so.''
``And you didn't suspect me?''
``Not for an instant,'' Victor assured her. ``Davy simply made the move that was obviously best for him.''
``And now he will be elected,'' said Jane regretfully.
``It looks that way,'' replied Victor. And he had the air of one who has nothing more to say.
Suddenly Jane looked at him with eyes shining and full of appeal.
``Don't send me away so quickly,'' she pleaded. ``I've not been telling the exact truth. I came only partly because I feared you were suspecting me. The real reason was that--that I couldn't stay away any longer. I know you're not in the least interested in me----''
She was watching him narrowly for signs of contradiction. She hoped she had not watched in vain.
``Why should you be?'' she went on. ``But ever since you opened my eyes and set me to thinking, I can do nothing but think about the things you have said to me, and long to come to you and ask you questions and hear more.''
Victor was staring hard into the wall of foliage. His face was set. She thought she had never seen anything so resolute, so repelling as the curve of his long jaw bone.
``I'll go now,'' she said, making a pretended move toward rising.
``I've no right to annoy you.''
He stood up abruptly, without looking at her. ``Yes, you'd better go,'' he said curtly.
She quivered--and it was with a pang of genuine pain.
His gaze was not so far from her as it seemed. For he must have noted her expression, since he said hurriedly: ``I beg your pardon. It isn't that I mean to be rude. I--I--it is best that I do not see you.''
She sank back in the chair with a sigh. ``And I--I know that I ought to keep away from you. But--I can't. It's too strong for me.''
He looked at her slowly. ``I have made up my mind to put you out of my head,'' he said. ``And I shall.''
``Don't!'' she cried. ``Victor--don't!''
He sat again, rested his forearms upon the table, leaned toward her. ``Look at me,'' he said.
She slowly lifted her gaze to his, met it steadily. ``I thought so, Victor,'' she said tenderly. ``I knew I couldn't care so much unless you cared at least a little .''
``Do I?'' said he. ``I don't know. I doubt if either of us is in love with the other. Certainly, you are not the sort of woman I could love--deeply love. What I feel for you is the sort of thing that passes. It is violent while it lasts, but it passes.''
``I don't care!'' cried she recklessly. ``Whatever it is I want it!''
He shook his head resolutely. ``No,'' he said. ``You don't want it, and I don't
His eyes had softened--softened under the influence of the emotion no man can ever fail to feel at least in some degree at sight of a lovely woman. ``Won't you sit?'' said he, with a glance at the wooden chair near the other side of the table.
She seated herself, resting one gloved hand on the prettily carved end of her white-sunshade. She was wearing a big hat of rough black straw, with a few very gorgeous white plumes. ``What a delightful place to work,'' exclaimed she, looking round, admiring the flowers, the slow ripening grapes, the delicious shade. ``And you--how WELL you look!''
``I've forgotten I was ever anything but well,'' said he.
``You're impatient for me to go,'' she cried laughing. ``It's very rude to show it so plainly.''
``No,'' replied he. ``I am not impatient for you to go. But I ought to be, for I'm very busy.''
``Well, I shall be gone in a moment. I came only to tell you that you are suspecting me wrongly.''
``Suspecting you?--of what?''
``Of having broken my word. I know you must think I got father to set Davy Hull on to upsetting your plans.''
``The idea never entered my head,'' said he. ``You had promised--and I know you are honest.''
Jane colored violently and lowered her eyes. ``I'm not--not up to what you say,'' she protested. ``But at least I didn't break my promise. Davy thought of that himself.''
``I have been assuming so.''
``And you didn't suspect me?''
``Not for an instant,'' Victor assured her. ``Davy simply made the move that was obviously best for him.''
``And now he will be elected,'' said Jane regretfully.
``It looks that way,'' replied Victor. And he had the air of one who has nothing more to say.
Suddenly Jane looked at him with eyes shining and full of appeal.
``Don't send me away so quickly,'' she pleaded. ``I've not been telling the exact truth. I came only partly because I feared you were suspecting me. The real reason was that--that I couldn't stay away any longer. I know you're not in the least interested in me----''
She was watching him narrowly for signs of contradiction. She hoped she had not watched in vain.
``Why should you be?'' she went on. ``But ever since you opened my eyes and set me to thinking, I can do nothing but think about the things you have said to me, and long to come to you and ask you questions and hear more.''
Victor was staring hard into the wall of foliage. His face was set. She thought she had never seen anything so resolute, so repelling as the curve of his long jaw bone.
``I'll go now,'' she said, making a pretended move toward rising.
``I've no right to annoy you.''
He stood up abruptly, without looking at her. ``Yes, you'd better go,'' he said curtly.
She quivered--and it was with a pang of genuine pain.
His gaze was not so far from her as it seemed. For he must have noted her expression, since he said hurriedly: ``I beg your pardon. It isn't that I mean to be rude. I--I--it is best that I do not see you.''
She sank back in the chair with a sigh. ``And I--I know that I ought to keep away from you. But--I can't. It's too strong for me.''
He looked at her slowly. ``I have made up my mind to put you out of my head,'' he said. ``And I shall.''
``Don't!'' she cried. ``Victor--don't!''
He sat again, rested his forearms upon the table, leaned toward her. ``Look at me,'' he said.
She slowly lifted her gaze to his, met it steadily. ``I thought so, Victor,'' she said tenderly. ``I knew I couldn't care so much unless you cared at least a little .''
``Do I?'' said he. ``I don't know. I doubt if either of us is in love with the other. Certainly, you are not the sort of woman I could love--deeply love. What I feel for you is the sort of thing that passes. It is violent while it lasts, but it passes.''
``I don't care!'' cried she recklessly. ``Whatever it is I want it!''
He shook his head resolutely. ``No,'' he said. ``You don't want it, and I don't