Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune.
The others hurried to the window. And Anna was conscious of a few
moments of exquisite emotion. After all, life had still its
pulsations. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before
had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at
that moment of regret or even pity.
She called them back very soon.
The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have
stolen into her face. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new
timidity in her manner.
"My friends," she said, "my dear friends, I am going to make the same
answer to all of you--and that is perhaps you will say no answer at
all. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any
one. It would be very hard perhaps to make you understand just how I
feel about it. I won't try. Only I feel that you all want to make life
too easy for me, and I am determined to fight my own battles a little
longer. If any of you--or all of you feel the same in six months' time
from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?"
There was a brief silence. Ennison spoke at last.
"You will sign the contract?"
"I shall sign the contract. I think that I am very fortunate to have
it to sign."
"Do you mean," Courtlaw asked, "that from now to the end of the six
months you do not wish to see us--any of us?"
Her eyes were a little dim again.
"I do mean that," she declared. "I want to have no distractions. My
work will be all sufficient. I have an aunt who is coming to live with
me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all. It will be a
little lonely sometimes," she said, looking around at them, "and I
shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself--and I think for
you. Do not avoid me if we meet by accident, but I trust to you all
not to let the accident happen if you can help it."
Brendon rose and came towards her with outstretched hand.
"Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you," he said. "May you
have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you
forget us."
Courtlaw rose too.
"You are of the genus obstinate," he said. "I do not know whether to
wish you success or not. I will wish you success or failure, whichever
is the better for you."
"And I," Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to
look into his eyes, "I will tell you what I have wished for you when
we meet six months from to-day."