Athalie

"As for love," he said, forcing a lighter tone, "there are fifty-seven

different varieties, Athalie; and only one is poisonous,--unless taken

with the other fifty-six, and in small doses."

She smiled faintly and walked to the window. Rain beat there in the

darkness spattering the little iron balcony. Below, the bleared lights

of the city stretched away to the sky-line.

He followed, and slipped his arm through hers; and she bent her wrist,

interlacing her slim fingers with his.

"You know," he said, "that when I often speak with apparent authority

I am wrong. In the final analysis you are the real leader, Athalie.

Your instincts are the right ones; your convictions honest, your

conclusions just. Mine are too often confused with selfishness and

indecision. For mine is an irresolute character;--or it was. I'm

trying to make it firmer."

She pressed his hand lightly, her eyes still fixed on the

light-smeared darkness.

He went on more gravely: "Candour and the intuition born of common

sense,--that is where you are so admirable, dear. Add to that the

tenderest heart that ever beat, and a proud ignorance of the lesser,

baser emotions--and, who am I to interfere,--to come into the sweet

order of your life with demands that confuse you--with complaints

against the very destiny I brought upon us both--with the clamour of

a selfish and ignoble philosophy which your every instinct rejects,

and which your heart entertains only because it is your heart, and

its heavenly sympathy has never failed me yet.... Oh, Athalie,

Athalie, it would be a shameful day for me and a bitter day for you if

my selfishness and irresolution ever swerved you. What I have lost--if

I have indeed lost it--is lost irrevocably. And I've got to learn to

face it."

She said, still gazing absently into the darkness: "Yes. But I am just

beginning to wonder what it is that I may have lost,--what it is

that I have never known."

"Don't think of it! Don't permit anything I have said or done to

trouble you or stir you toward such an awakening.... I don't want to

stand charged with that. You are tranquil, now--"

"I--was."

"You are still!" he said in quick concern. "Listen, Athalie--the

majority of men lose their grip at moments; men as irresolute as I

lose it oftener. Don't waste sympathy on me; it was nothing but a

whine born of a lesser impulse--born of emotions less decent than you

could comprehend--"

"Maybe I am beginning to comprehend."