He did not say a word. What word was there for him to say? He had no thought of the clever, cynical things he had meant to say to her on the subject of marriage. He did not at that moment even remember that it had been his intention to say such words to her, so that he did not loathe himself until he had gone home and remembered what his intentions had been the previous day.
He stood silent in the middle of the room. Quite a long space of time had elapsed before she turned to him, and now he could see the smile that was upon her face.
"I knew you would come to see me, Dick," she said; "for I know that there is no one in the world who would be gladder to see me happy than you, Dick. And you--you will be happy too--you will give me a chance some day of seeing you happy, will you not? It would make me so happy, Dick."
He shook his head--that was his first impulse; but immediately afterwards he said:
"Oh yes; why should not I be happy--one day, Betsy? Oh, don't take any thought for me, dear; I dare say that I shall be able to--to---- What is it that makes people happy, Betsy? Is it love--is it loving--is it being loved?"
"Oh, Dick, there are surely plenty of things in the world besides love!" said she.
"There are, but none of them is worth working for," said he. "There is fame; you have that--you have enjoyed it for years----"
"Enjoyed it? Enjoyed---- Ah, Dick, I have promised to marry Mr. Long in order to escape from it. Now you know why I have given him my promise. It is because I cannot live the life that is imposed on me--because I feel that if I were to continue leading this life I must one day throw myself into the Avon, seeking for rest. I hate the fame which has put my name into the mouth of every one. Oh, Dick, if you could know how all these years my heart has been singing that one anthem, 'Oh for the wings of a dove--the wings of a dove, to fly away and be at rest!' I have heard the boys in the Abbey sing it, but they did not know what the words meant. I know what they mean, and my heart has been singing them all these years. My soul has been so filled with that longing that there has been no room in it for any other thought--any other aspiration. You can understand me, Dick--I know that you can understand me. My father cannot. He loses patience with me; and Tom, from whom I hoped so much, he is worse than my father. He has no thought in life apart from his violin, and he is happy only when people are applauding him."