Gheena showed no surprise. It seemed to her natural that her reasons should be so plain.
"But you like me, Darby, and if you won't, I'll ask the Professor, or someone."
He looked for one glimpse of love in her eyes, for anything except the complete trust and the weariness of the overstrained face, as she explained that she would not endure for four years, and that she wanted a friend.
"Four years, or for ever?" he said. "Gheena, it hurts just a bit." Then he dropped her hands, putting his on her head. It came to him that he was strong enough to bear an engagement, to see her through her troubles, until he stepped back with just a little more pain to bear, and left her happy. And--perhaps--the strongest of men dream--cripple as he was.
So Darby said "Right." He said it quite cheerfully. "And here's coffee. You are just worn out, dear, from that ride."
"It was Maria's legs," said Gheena. "Darby, you'll drive me back, and how tired you look! But aren't you glad?"
He got up, limping, to look for matches. A cripple, a maimed, scarred thing, to whom this light offering of what never could be love had hurt worse than his injuries. Gheena would never care for him. He was just old Darby to her. She came to him to help her as she had done all her life. She could probably even marry him just as old Darby, and drag out her life cheerily, hurting him, never knowing happiness herself.
"I couldn't do much walking with you, Gheena," he said.
"But you're so much better," she answered. "And I shouldn't know you if you could walk fast now, Darby. And you can let your sister have this house; she always wants it and it's splendid!"
The awful presence of Dearest George, enduring the night air, was on the doorstep when they drove up to Castle Freyne.
He said icily that old friend as Darby was, he could not have his stepdaughter disappearing in this fashion, and that some change in discipline must be made.
"And all my muscles are stiff from the length of Maria's legs," said Gheena cheerily. "And you'd better see about the Dower House, Dearest, because I am going to be married."
"You've persuaded her," gasped Dearest George.
"To Darby," said Gheena, lifting Crabbit. "To Darby Dillon, Dearest, so don't buy the Prussic acid now. Let me alone."