Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

VII

           

           “Butareyouunhappytoo?Oh,Ineverunderstood—Ineverdreamedit!Ithoughtyou’dalwayshadeverythingintheworldyouwanted!”

           Darrowbrokeintoalaughatthisingenuouspictureofhisstate.Hewasashamedoftryingtobetterhiscasebyanappealtoherpity,andannoyedwithhimselfforalludingtoasubjecthewouldratherhavekeptoutofhisthoughts.Butherlookofsympathyhaddisarmedhim;hisheartwasbitteranddistracted;shewasnearhim,hereyeswereshiningwithcompassion—hebentoverherandkissedherhand.

           “Forgiveme—doforgiveme,”hesaid.

           Shestoodupwithasmilinghead-shake.“Oh,it’snotsooftenthatpeopletrytogivemeanypleasure—muchlesstwowholedaysofit!Isha’n’tforgethowkindyou’vebeen.Ishallhaveplentyoftimetoremember.Butthisisgood-bye,youknow.ImusttelegraphatoncetosayI’mcoming.”

           “Tosayyou’recoming?ThenI’mnotforgiven?”

           “Oh,you’reforgiven—ifthat’sanycomfort.”

           “It’snot,theveryleast,ifyourwayofprovingitistogoaway!”

           Shehungherheadinmeditation.“ButIcan’tstay.—HowcanIstay?”shebrokeout,asifarguingwithsomeunseenmonitor.

           “Whycan’tyou?Nooneknowsyou’rehere....Nooneneedeverknow.”

           Shelookedup,andtheireyesexchangedmeaningsforarapidminute.Hergazewasasclearasaboy’s.“Oh,it’snotthat,”sheexclaimed,almostimpatiently;“it’snotpeopleI’mafraidof!They’veneverputthemselvesoutforme—whyonearthshouldIcareaboutthem?”

           Helikedherdirectnessashehadneverlikeditbefore.

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