She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, while she talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me either; it wasn’t. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; she even, in tender thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite beautiful beginning.
‘It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I slept? I assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me... Yes, of course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner... As the day went on it changed--it turned into a clear pool, into a flower. And I--think of my not understanding! I was pleased with it! For a long time, for days, I never dreamed that it could be anything but a little secret joy. Then, suddenly--oh, I had not been perceiving enough!--it was in all my veins, a tide, an efflorescence, a thing of my very life.
‘Then--it was a little late--I understood, and since--
‘I began by hating it--being furious, furious--and afraid, too. Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always with me, sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off and sat looking at me....
‘I have--done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to abolish. How can I say, “I will not let you in,” when it is already there? How can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed upon every moment of my day? And it has grown so sweet--the longing--that--isn’t it strange?--I could more willingly give him up than the desire of him. That seems as impossible to part with as life itself.’
She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill.
Don’t--don’t CRY, Judy,’ I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself.
‘Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.’
‘God help you,’ I said. What else was there to say?
‘There is no such person,’ she replied, gaily. ‘There is only a blessed devil.’
‘Then you go all the way--to the logical conclusion?’
She hardly hesitated. ‘To the logical conclusion. What poor words!’
‘I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. The English mail leaves tonight.’
‘We have arranged nothing. Do you know’--she smiled as if at the fresh colours of an idyll--‘we have not even come to the admission? There has been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in bonds, and dumb! Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, but never a moment of the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to give--that moment, and he has waited--I know--wondering whether perhaps it would ever come. And today--we are going for a ride today, and I do not think we shall come back.’