"That weird forest--I shall never forget it.""No; it was something to remember," she said.
"And the blueberry patch? We mustn't forget the blueberry patch.""There were a great many blueberries."
She walked on, and he said, "And that bridge--you don't have that feeling of having been here before?""No."
"Am I walking too fast for you, Miss Pasmer?""No; I like to walk fast."
"But wouldn't you like to sit down? On this wayside log, for example?"He pointed it out with his stick. "It seems to invite repose, and I know you must be tired.""I'm not tired."
"Ah, that shows that you didn't lie awake grieving over your follies all night. I hope you rested well, Miss Pasmer." She said nothing. "If Ithought--if I could hope that you hadn't, it would be a bond of sympathy, and I would give almost anything for a bond of sympathy just now, Miss Pasmer. Alice!" he said, with sudden seriousness. "I know that I'm not worthy even to think of you, and that you're whole worlds above me in every way. It's that that takes all heart out of me, and leaves me without a word to say when I'd like to say so much. I would like to speak--tell you--"She interrupted him. "I wish to speak to you, Mr. Mavering, and tell you that--I'm very tired, and I'm going back to the hotel. I must ask you to let me go back alone.""Alice, I love you."
"I'm sorry you said it--sorry, sorry."
"Why?" he asked, with hopeless futility.
"Because there can be no love between us--not friendship even--not acquaintance.""I shouldn't have asked for your acquaintance, your friendship, if--"His words conveyed a delicate reproach, and they stung her, because they put her in the wrong.
"No matter," she began wildly. "I didn't mean to wound you. But we must part, and we must never see each other again:"He stood confused, as if he could not make it out or believe it. "But yesterday--""It's to-day now."
"Ah, no! It's last night. And I can explain.""No!" she cried. "You shall not make me out so mean and vindictive. Idon't care for last night, nor for anything that happened." This was not true, but it seemed so to her at the moment; she thought that she really no longer resented his association with Miss Anderson and his separation from herself in all that had taken place.
"Then what is it?"
"I can't tell you. But everything is over between us--that's all.""But yesterday--and all these days past--you seemed--""It's unfair of you to insist--it's ungenerous, ungentlemanly."That word, which from a woman's tongue always strikes a man like a blow in the face, silenced Mavering. He set his lips and bowed, and they parted. She turned upon her way, and he kept the path which she had been going.
It was not the hour when the piazzas were very full, and she slipped into the dim hotel corridor undetected, or at least undetained. She flung into her room, and confronted her mother.
Mrs. Pasmer was there looking into a trunk that had overflowed from her own chamber. "What is the matter?" she said to her daughter's excited face.
"Mr. Mavering--"
"Well?"
"And I refused him."
Mrs. Pasmer was one of those ladies who in any finality have a keen retrovision of all the advantages of a different conclusion. She had been thinking, since she told Dan Mavering which way Alice had gone to walk, that if he were to speak to her now, and she were to accept him, it would involve a great many embarrassing consequences; but she had consoled herself with the probability that he would not speak so soon after the effects of last night, but would only try at the furthest to make his peace with Alice. Since he had spoken, though, and she had refused him, Mrs. Pasmer instantly saw all the pleasant things that would have followed in another event. "Refused him?" she repeated provisionally, while she gathered herself for a full exploration of all the facts.
"Yes, mamma; and I can't talk about it. I wish never to hear his name again, or to see him, or to speak to him.""Why, of course not," said Mrs. Pasmer, with a fine smile, from the vantage-ground of her superior years, "if you've refused him." She left the trunk which she had been standing over, and sat down, while Alice swept to and fro before her excitedly. "But why did you refuse him, my dear?""Why? Because he's detestable--perfectly ignoble."Her mother probably knew how to translate these exalted expressions into the more accurate language of maturer life. "Do you mean last night?""Last night?" cried Alice tragically. "No. Why should I care for last night?""Then I don't understand what you mean," retorted Mrs. Pasmer. "What did he say?" she demanded, with authority.
"Mamma, I can't talk about it--I won't."
"But you must, Alice. It's your duty. Of course I must know about it.
What did he say?"
Alice walked up and down the room with her lips firmly closed--like Mavering's lips, it occurred to her; and then she opened them, but without speaking.
"What did he say?" persisted her mother, and her persistence had its effect.
"Say?" exclaimed the girl indignantly. "He tried to make me say.""I see," said Mrs. Pasmer. "Well?"
"But I forced him to speak, and then--I rejected him. That's all.""Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Pasmer. "He was afraid of you.""And that's what made it the more odious. Do you think I wished him to be afraid of me? Would that be any pleasure? I should hate myself if Ihad to quell anybody into being unlike themselves." She sat down for a moment, and then jumped up again, and went to the window, for no reason, and came back.
"Yes," said her mother impartially, "he's light, and he's roundabout. He couldn't come straight at anything.""And would you have me accept such a--being?"Mrs. Pasmer smiled a little at the literary word, and continued: "But he's very sweet, and he's as good as the day's long, and he's very fond of you, and--I thought you liked him."The girl threw up her arms across her eyes. "Oh, how can you say such a thing, mamma?"She dropped into a chair at the bedside, and let her face fall into her hands, and cried.
