The Fighting Chance

"Is there no chance?" he asked.

Perplexed with her own emotion, the meaning of his low-voiced question at first escaped her; then, like its own echo, came ringing back in her ears, re-echoed again as he repeated it: "Is there no chance for me, Miss Landis?"

The very revulsion of self-possession returning chilled her; then anger came, quick and hot; then pride. She deliberated, choosing her words coolly enough: "What chance do you mean, Mr. Siward?"

"A fighting chance. Can you give it to me?"

"A fighting chance? For what?"--very low, very dangerous.

"For you."

Then, in spite of her, her senses became unsteady; a sudden ringing confusion seemed to deafen her, through which his voice, as if very far away, sounded again: "Men who are worth a fighting chance ask for it sometimes--but take it always. I take it."

Her pallor faded under the flood of bright colour; the blue of her eyes darkened ominously to velvet.

"Mr. Siward," she said, very distinctly and slowly, "I am not--even--sorry--for you."

"Then my chance is desperate indeed," he retorted coolly.

"Chance! Do you imagine--" Her anger choked her.

"Are you not a little hard?" he said, paling under his tan. "I supposed women dismissed men more gently--even such a man as I am."

For a full minute she strove to comprehend.

"Such a man as you!" she repeated vaguely; "you mean--" a crimson wave dyed her skin to the temples and she leaned toward him in horror-stricken contrition; "I didn't mean that, Mr. Siward! I--I never thought of that! It had no weight, it was not in my thoughts. I meant only that you had assumed what is unwarranted--that you--your question humiliated me, knowing that I am engaged--knowing me so little--so--"

"Yes, I knew everything. Ask yourself why I risk everything to say this to you? There can be only one answer."

Then after a long silence: "Have I ever--" she began tremblingly--"ever by word or look--"

"No."

"Have I even--"

"No. I've simply discovered how I feel. That's what I was dreaming about when you asked me. I was afraid I might do this too soon; but I meant to do it anyway before it became too late."

"It was too late from the very moment we met, Mr. Siward." And, as he reddened painfully again, she added quickly: "I mean that I had already decided. Why will you take what I say so dreadfully different from the way I intend it? Listen to me. I--I believe I am not very experienced yet; I was a--astonished--quite stunned for a moment. Then it hurt me--and I said that I was not sorry for you … I am sorry, now."