Stephens voice gave way a little here,in defiance of his firmest will to the contrary.Indian affairs had not yet lowered those emotions down to the point of control.
It was broken off,came quickly from Knight.Engagements to marry often end like that--for better or for worse.
Yes;so they do.And what have you been doing lately?
Doing?Nothing.
Where have you been?
I can hardly tell you.In the main,going about Europe;and it may perhaps interest you to know that I have been attempting the serious study of Continental art of the Middle Ages.My notes on each example I visited are at your service.They are of no use to me.
I shall be glad with them.Oh,travelling far and near!
Not far,said Knight,with moody carelessness.You know,I daresay,that sheep occasionally become giddy--hydatids in the head,tis called,in which their brains become eaten up,and the animal exhibits the strange peculiarity of walking round and round in a circle continually.I have travelled just in the same way--
round and round like a giddy ram.
The reckless,bitter,and rambling style in which Knight talked,as if rather to vent his images than to convey any ideas to Stephen,struck the young man painfully.His former friends days had become cankered in some way:Knight was a changed man.He himself had changed much,but not as Knight had changed.
Yesterday I came home,continued Knight,without having,to the best of my belief,imbibed half-a-dozen ideas worth retaining.
You out-Hamlet Hamlet in morbidness of mood,said Stephen,with regretful frankness.
Knight made no reply.
Do you know,Stephen continued,I could almost have sworn that you would be married before this time,from what I saw?
Knights face grew harder.Could you?he said.
Stephen was powerless to forsake the depressing,luring subject.
Yes;and I simply wonder at it.
Whom did you expect me to marry?
Her I saw you with.
Thank you for that wonder.
Did she jilt you?
Smith,now one word to you,Knight returned steadily.Dont you ever question me on that subject.I have a reason for ****** this request,mind.And if you do question me,you will not get an answer.
Oh,I dont for a moment wish to ask what is unpleasant to you--not I.I had a momentary feeling that I should like to explain something on my side,and hear a similar explanation on yours.
But let it go,let it go,by all means.
What would you explain?
I lost the woman I was going to marry:you have not married as you intended.We might have compared notes.
I have never asked you a word about your case.
I know that.
And the inference is obvious.
Quite so.
The truth is,Stephen,I have doggedly resolved never to allude to the matter--for which I have a very good reason.
Doubtless.As good a reason as you had for not marrying her.
You talk insidiously.I had a good one--a miserably good one!
Smiths anxiety urged him to venture one more question.
Did she not love you enough?He drew his breath in a slow and attenuated stream,as he waited in timorous hope for the answer.
Stephen,you rather strain ordinary courtesy in pressing questions of that kind after what I have said.I cannot understand you at all.I must go on now.
Why,good God!exclaimed Stephen passionately,you talk as if you hadnt at all taken her away from anybody who had better claims to her than you!
What do you mean by that?said Knight,with a puzzled air.
What have you heard?
Nothing.I too must go on.Good-day.
If you will go,said Knight,reluctantly now,you must,I suppose.I am sure I cannot understand why you behave so.
Nor I why you do.I have always been grateful to you,and as far as I am concerned we need never have become so estranged as we have.
And have I ever been anything but well-disposed towards you,Stephen?Surely you know that I have not!The system of reserve began with you:you know that.
No,no!You altogether mistake our position.You were always from the first reserved to me,though I was confidential to you.
That was,I suppose,the natural issue of our differing positions in life.And when I,the pupil,became reserved like you,the master,you did not like it.However,I was going to ask you to come round and see me.
Where are you staying?
At the Grosvenor Hotel,Pimlico.
So am I.
Thats convenient,not to say odd.Well,I am detained in London for a day or two;then I am going down to see my father and mother,who live at St.Launces now.Will you see me this evening?
I may;but I will not promise.I was wishing to be alone for an hour or two;but I shall know where to find you,at any rate.
Good-bye.
