Біла пташка
The Dedication
“Yousee,”shesaidradiantlyandwithagesturethatdisclosedherselftome,“Icanforgiveeventhat.Youlongagoearnedtherighttohurtmeifyouwantto.”
ItweanedmeofallfurtherdesiretorailatMary,andIfeltanuncommondrawingtoher.
“AndifIdidthinkthatforalittlewhile—,”shewenton,withanunsteadysmile.
“Thinkwhat?”Iasked,butwithoutthenecessarysnap.
“Whatweweretalkingof,”sherepliedwincing,butforgivingmeagain.“IfIoncethoughtthat,itwasprettytomewhileitlastedanditlastedbutalittletime.Ihavelongbeensurethatyourkindnesstomewasduetosomeotherreason.”
“Ma’am,”saidIveryhonestly,“Iknownotwhatwasthereason.Myconcernforyouwasinthebeginningaveryfragileandevenaselfishthing,yetnotaltogetherselfish,forIthinkthatwhatfirststirreditwasthejoyousswayofthelittlenurserygovernessasshewalkeddownPallMalltomeetherlover.ItseemedsuchamightyfinethingtoyoutobelovedthatIthoughtyouhadbettercontinuetobelovedforalittlelonger.AndperhapshavinghelpedyouoncebydroppingaletterIwascharmedbytheeasewithwhichyoucouldbehelped,foryoumustknowthatIamonewhohaschosentheeasywayformorethantwentyyears.”
Sheshookherheadandsmiled.“Onmysoul,”Iassuredher,“Icanthinkofnootherreason.”
“Akindheart,”saidshe.
“Morelikelyawhim,”saidI.
“Oranotherwoman,”saidshe.
Iwasverymuchtakenaback.
