20

His manner was, as always, affectionately nostalgic. He spoke with circumspection of his inability to forget the past and his unhappiness with his marriage. How, she wondered, could he go on forever thinking of her sister? Or was there an element of pretense in his tenacity? Having been so ardent at the outset, he would not have it thought that he had forgotten? But he seemed so open with her that, not being a log or a stone, she had presently to recognize the genuineness of his sorrow. She sighed. Then, perhaps hoping to wash away* part of the pain, she mentioned the “image” of which they had spoken. An image had come in secret to this very house, she let it be known.

This was exciting news. He longed to be shown to the girl's presence, but feared that he might seem capricious.

“It would indeed be a comfort if an idol were to come at my command. But a bad conscience would only muddy the waters.”

“It is not easy to be a saint.” She laughed a soft laugh which the governor's wife found charming.

“But you might at least describe my feelings to them. I am reminded of an earlier case of evasion and it does not bode well for the future.” There were tears in his voice, which he sought to cover with a playful poem.

“The permanent loan, if you please, of a useful image,

A handy memento, to take away the gloom.” *

“To float downstream afresh at each atonement,

And yet to have forever at your side? No, there are too many hands tugging at you.+ I would fear for the poor girl.”

“You know very well which shoal I shall come upon in the end. Please do not pretend that you do not. I am like the foam that sinks and rises again,# and I find your talk of being floated downstream very much to the point. Where will the foam come to rest?”

It was growing dark, and she had her guests to think about. “I do seem to have some people with me at the moment, and must have a thought or two for appearances. Suppose you go home early, this one time.”