’Rubbish! Of course you meant it.
You have thought it every day, and you’ll say
it again, behind my back, if not to my face. Stand
up, and don’t make yourself sillier than you
are.’
’You can’t call me anything too bad—but
don’t drive me away. I can’t bear
it. You are the only friend I have in the world—the
only, only friend. No one was ever kind and good
to me but you, and this is how I have repaid you.
Oh, I hate myself! I could tear my tongue out
for saying such things. Only say that you’ll
try to forgive me—dear Nancy—dear—’
She fell with face upon the carpet, and grovelled
there in anguish of conflicting passions, a lamentable
object. Unable to bear the sight of her, Nancy
moved away, and stood with back turned, perforce hearing
the moans and sobs and half-articulate words which
lasted until the fit of hysteria left its victim in
mute exhaustion. Then, contemptuously pitiful,
she drew near again to the prostrate figure.
’Stand up at once, and let us have an end of
this vulgar folly. Stand up, or I’ll leave
you here, and never speak to you again.’
‘Nancy—can you forgive me?’
’I believe you have never got over your illness.
If I were you, I should see the doctor again, and
try to be cured. You’ll end in an asylum,
if you don’t mind.’
’I often feel almost mad—I do really.
Will you forget those dreadful words I spoke?
I know you can’t forgive me at once—’
’Only stand up, and try to behave like a reasonable
being. What do I care for your words?’
The girl raised herself, threw her arms over a chair,
and wept miserably.
On an afternoon at the end of October, Samuel Barmby,
returned from business, found Miss. Morgan having
tea with his sisters. For a month or two after
Midsummer the Barmbys had scarcely seen her; now their
friendly intercourse was renewed, and Jessica came
at least once a week. She had an engagement at
a girls’ school in this neighbourhood, and,
though her health threatened another collapse, she
talked of resuming study for the Matriculation of next
year.
Samuel, perfectly aware of the slavish homage which
Miss. Morgan paid him, took pleasure in posing
before her. It never entered his mind to make
any return beyond genial patronage, but the incense
of a female devotee was always grateful to him, and
he had come to look upon Jessica as a young person
peculiarly appreciative of intellectual distinction.
A week ago, walking with her to the omnibus after
an evening she had spent in Dagmar Road, he had indulged
a spirit of confidence, and led her to speak of Nancy
Lord. The upshot of five minutes’ conversation
was a frank inquiry, which he could hardly have permitted
himself but for the shadow of night and the isolating
noises around them. As an intimate friend, did
she feel able to tell him whether or not Miss.
Lord was engaged to be married? Jessica, after
a brief silence, answered that she did not
feel at liberty to disclose what she knew on the subject;
but the words she used, and her voice in uttering
them, left no doubt as to her meaning. Samuel
said no more. At parting, he pressed the girl’s
hand warmly.
