"The start is really only a matter of judicious advertising. There's no
difficulty. And here you go and . . . "
He turned his face away. "After all I am still de Barral, the de
Barral. Didn't you remember that?"
"Papa," said Flora; "listen. It's you who must remember that there is no
longer a de Barral . . . " He looked at her sideways anxiously. "There
is Mr. Smith, whom no harm, no trouble, no wicked lies of evil people can
ever touch."
"Mr. Smith," he breathed out slowly. "Where does he belong to? There's
not even a Miss Smith."
"There is your Flora."
"My Flora! You went and . . . I can't bear to think of it. It's
horrible."
"Yes. It was horrible enough at times," she said with feeling, because
somehow, obscurely, what this man said appealed to her as if it were her
own thought clothed in an enigmatic emotion. "I think with shame
sometimes how I . . . No not yet. I shall not tell you. At least not
now."
The cab turned into the gateway of the dock. Flora handed the tall hat
to her father. "Here, papa. And please be good. I suppose you love me.
If you don't, then I wonder who--"
He put the hat on, and stiffened hard in his corner, kept a sidelong
glance on his girl. "Try to be nice for my sake. Think of the years I
have been waiting for you. I do indeed want support--and peace. A
little peace."
She clasped his arm suddenly with both hands pressing with all her might
as if to crush the resistance she felt in him. "I could not have peace
if I did not have you with me. I won't let you go. Not after all I went
through. I won't." The nervous force of her grip frightened him a
little. She laughed suddenly. "It's absurd. It's as if I were asking
you for a sacrifice. What am I afraid of? Where could you go? I mean
now, to-day, to-night? You can't tell me. Have you thought of it? Well
I have been thinking of it for the last year. Longer. I nearly went mad
trying to find out. I believe I was mad for a time or else I should
never have thought . . . "
* * * * *
"This was as near as she came to a confession," remarked Marlow in a
changed tone. "The confession I mean of that walk to the top of the
quarry which she reproached herself with so bitterly. And he made of it
what his fancy suggested. It could not possibly be a just notion. The
cab stopped alongside the ship and they got out in the manner described
by the sensitive Franklin. I don't know if they suspected each other's
sanity at the end of that drive. But that is possible. We all seem a
little mad to each other; an excellent arrangement for the bulk of
humanity which finds in it an easy motive of forgiveness. Flora crossed
the quarter-deck with a rapidity born of apprehension. It had grown
unbearable. She wanted this business over. She was thankful on looking
back to see he was following her. "If he bolts away," she thought, "then
I shall know that I am of no account indeed! That no one loves me, that
words and actions and protestations and everything in the world is
false--and I shall jump into the dock. That at least won't lie."