'Swithin, you don't love me,' she said simply.
'O Viviette!' 'You don't love me,' she repeated.
'Don't say it!' 'Yes, but I will! you have a right not to love me. You did once. But
now I am an old woman, and you are still a young man; so how can you love
me? I do not expect it. It is kind and charitable of you to come and
see me here.' 'I have come all the way from the Cape,' he faltered, for her insistence
took all power out of him to deny in mere politeness what she said.
'Yes; you have come from the Cape; but not for me,' she answered. 'It
would be absurd if you had come for me. You have come because your work
there is finished. . . . I like to sit here with my little boy--it is a
pleasant spot. It was once something to us, was it not? but that was
long ago. You scarcely knew me for the same woman, did you?' 'Knew you--yes, of course I knew you!' 'You looked as if you did not. But you must not be surprised at me. I
belong to an earlier generation than you, remember.' Thus, in sheer bitterness of spirit did she inflict wounds on herself by exaggerating the difference in their years. But she had nevertheless
spoken truly. Sympathize with her as he might, and as he unquestionably
did, he loved her no longer. But why had she expected otherwise? 'O
woman,' might a prophet have said to her, 'great is thy faith if thou
believest a junior lover's love will last five years!' 'I shall be glad to know through your grandmother how you are getting on,' she said meekly. 'But now I would much rather that we part. Yes;
do not question me. I would rather that we part. Good-bye.' Hardly knowing what he did he touched her hand, and obeyed. He was a scientist, and took words literally. There is something in the
inexorably simple logic of such men which partakes of the cruelty of the
natural laws that are their study. He entered the tower-steps, and
mechanically descended; and it was not till he got half-way down that he
thought she could not mean what she had said.
Before leaving Cape Town he had made up his mind on this one point; that
if she were willing to marry him, marry her he would without let or
hindrance. That much he morally owed her, and was not the man to demur.
And though the Swithin who had returned was not quite the Swithin who had
gone away, though he could not now love her with the sort of love he had
once bestowed; he believed that all her conduct had been dictated by the
purest benevolence to him, by that charity which 'seeketh not her own.'
Hence he did not flinch from a wish to deal with loving-kindness towards
her--a sentiment perhaps in the long-run more to be prized than lover's
love.