It began with a good many excuses for not having written before, and went on with a pretty expression of interest in Alice's letters and gratitude for them; Mrs. Mavering assured the girl that she could not imagine what a pleasure they had been to her. She promised herself that they should be great friends, and she said that she looked forward eagerly to the time, now drawing near, when Dan should bring her home to them. She said she knew Alice would find it dull at the Falls except for him, but they would all do their best, and she would find the place very different from what she had seen it in the winter. Alice could make believe that she was there just for the summer, and Mrs. Mavering hoped that before the summer was gone she would be so sorry for a sick old woman that she would not even wish to go with it. This part of the letter, which gave Dan away so hopelessly, as he felt, was phrased so touchingly, that he looked up from it with moist eyes to the hard cold judgment in the eyes of Alice.
"Will you please explain it?" she repeated.
He tried to temporise. "Explain what?"
Alice was prompt to say, "Had you promised your mother to take me home to live?"Dan did not answer.
"You promised my mother to go abroad. What else have you promised?" He continued silent, and she added, "You are a faithless man." They were the words of Romola, in the romance, to Tito; she had often admired them; and they seemed to her equally the measure of Dan's offence.
"Alice--"
"Here are your letters and remembrances, Mr. Mavering." Dan mechanically received the packet she had been holding behind her; with a perverse freak of intelligence he observed that, though much larger now, it was tied up with the same ribbon which had fastened it when Alice returned his letters and gifts before. "Good-bye. I wish you every happiness consistent with your nature."She bowed coldly, and was about to leave him, as she had planned; but she had not arranged that he should be standing in front of the door, and he was there, with no apparent intention of moving.
"Will you allow me to pass?" she was forced to ask, however, haughtily.
"No!" he retorted, with a violence that surprised him. "I will not let you pass till you have listened to me--till you tell me why you treat me so. I won't stand it--I've had enough of this kind of thing."It surprised Alice too a little, and after a moment's hesitation she said, "I will listen to you," so much more gently than she had spoken before that Dan relaxed his imperative tone, and began to laugh. "But," she added, and her face clouded again, "it will be of no use. My mind is made up this time. Why should we talk?"Why, because mine isn't," said Dan. "What is the matter, Alice? Do you think I would force you, or even ask you, to go home with me to live unless you were entirely willing? It could only be a temporary arrangement anyway.""That isn't the question," she retorted. "The question is whether you've promised your mother one thing and me another.""Well, I don't know about promising," said Dan, laughing a little more uneasily, but still laughing. "As nearly as I can remember, I wasn't consulted about the matter. Your mother proposed one thing, and my mother proposed another.""And you agreed to both. That is quite enough--quite characteristic!"Dan flushed, and stopped laughing. "I don't know what you mean by characteristic. The thing didn't have to be decided at once, and I didn't suppose it would be difficult for either side to give way, if it was judged best. I was sure my mother wouldn't insist.""It seems very easy for your family to make sacrifices that are not likely to be required of them.""You mustn't criticise my mother!" cried Dan.
"I have not criticised her. You insinuate that we would be too selfish to give up, if it were for the best.""I do nothing of the kind, and unless you are determined to quarrel with me you wouldn't say so.""I don't wish a quarrel; none is necessary," said Alice coldly.
"You accuse me of being treacherous--"
"I didn't say treacherous!"
"Faithless, then. It's a mere quibble about words. I want you to take that back.""I can't take it back; it's the truth. Aren't you faithless, if you let us go on thinking that you're going to Europe, and let your mother think that we're coming home to live after we're married?""No! I'm simply leaving the question open!""Yes," said the girl--sadly, "you like to leave questions open. That's your way.""Well, I suppose I do till it's necessary to decide them. It saves the needless effusion of talk," said Dan, with a laugh; and then, as people do in a quarrel, he went back to his angry mood, and said "Besides, Isupposed you would be glad of the chance to make some sacrifice for me.
You're always asking for it."
"Thank you, Mr. Mavering," said Alice, "for reminding me of it; nothing is sacred to you, it seems. I can't say that you have ever sought any opportunities of self-sacrifice.""I wasn't allowed time to do so; they were always presented.""Thank you again, Mr. Mavering. All this is quite a revelation. I'm glad to know how you really felt about things that you seemed so eager for.""Alice, you know that I would do anything for you!" cried Dan, rueing his precipitate words.
"Yes; that's what you've repeatedly told me. I used to believe it.""And I always believed what you said. You said at the picnic that day that you thought I would like to live at Ponkwasset Falls if my business was there--""That is not the point!"
"And now you quarrel with me because my mother wishes me to do so."Alice merely said: "I don't know why I stand here allowing you to intimidate me in my father's house. I demand that you shall stand aside and let me pass.""I'll not oblige you to leave the room," said Dan. "I will go. But if Igo, you will understand that I don't come back.""I hope that," said the girl.
"Very well. Good morning, Miss Pasmer."
