XXVII
I rose in a distress which I could not hide. "Oh, Eveleth, Eveleth!" Icried. "You are like all the rest, poor child! You are the creature ofyour environment, as we all are. You cannot escape what you have been.It may be that I was wrong to wish or expect you to cast your lot with mein Altruria, at once and forever. It may be that it is my duty to returnhere with you after a time, not only to let you see that Altruria isbest, but to end my days in this unhappy land, preaching and teachingAltrurianism; but we must not come as prophets to the comfortable people,and entertain nicely. If we are to renew the evangel, it must be in thelife and the spirit of the First Altrurian: we must come poor to thepoor; we must not try to win any one, save through his heart andconscience; we must be as simple and humble as the least of those thatChrist bade follow Him. Eveleth, perhaps you have made a mistake. I loveyou too much to wish you to suffer even for your good. Yes, I am so weakas that. I did not think that this would be the sacrifice for you that itseems, and I will not ask it of you. I am sorry that we have notunderstood each other, as I supposed we had. I could never become anAmerican; perhaps you could never become an Altrurian. Think of it,dearest. Think well of it, before you take the step which you cannotrecede from. I hold you to no promise; I love you so dearly that I cannotlet you hold yourself. But you must choose between me and your money--no,not me--but between love and your money. You cannot keep both."
She had stood listening to me; now she cast herself on my heart andstopped my words with an impassioned kiss. "Then there is no choice forme. My choice is made, once for all." She set her hands against my breastand pushed me from her. "Go now; but come again to-morrow. I want tothink it all over again. Not that I have any doubt, but because you wishit--you wish it, don't you?--and because I will not let you ever think Iacted upon an impulse, and that I regretted it."
"That is right, Eveleth. That is like _you_" I said, and I took herinto my arms for good-night.
The next day I came for her decision, or rather for her confirmation ofit. The man who opened the door to me met me with a look of concern andembarrassment. He said Mrs. Strange was not at all well, and had told himhe was to give me the letter he handed me. I asked, in taking it, if Icould see Mrs. Gray, and he answered that Mrs. Gray had not been downyet, but he would go and see. I was impatient to read my letter, and Imade I know not what vague reply, and I found myself, I know not how, onthe pavement, with the letter open in my hand. It began abruptly withoutdate or address:
_"You will believe that I have not slept, when you read this.
"I have thought it all over again, as you wished, and it is all overbetween us.
"I am what you said, the creature of my environment. I cannot detachmyself from it; I cannot escape from what I have been.
"I am writing this with a strange coldness, like the chill of death, inmy very soul. I do not ask you to forgive me; I have your forgivenessalready. Do not forget me; that is what I ask. Remember me as theunhappy woman who was not equal to her chance when heaven was opened toher, who could not choose the best when the best came to her.
"There is no use writing; if I kept on forever, it would always be thesame cry of shame, of love.
"Eveleth Strange."_
I reeled as I read the lines. The street seemed to weave itself into acircle around me. But I knew that I was not dreaming, that this was nodelirium of my sleep.
It was three days ago, and I have not tried to see her again. I havewritten her a line, to say that I shall not forget her, and to take theblame upon myself. I expected the impossible of her.
I have yet two days before me until the steamer sails; we were to havesailed together, and now I shall sail alone.
I will try to leave it all behind me forever; but while I linger outthese last long hours here I must think and I must doubt.
Was she, then, the _poseuse_ that they said? Had she really no hearin our love? Was it only a pretty drama she was playing, and were thosegenerous motives, those lofty principles which seemed to actuate her, thepoetical qualities of the play, the graces of her pose? I cannot believeit. I believe that she was truly what she seemed, for she had been thateven before she met me. I believe that she was pure and lofty in soul asshe appeared; but that her life was warped to such a form by the falseconditions of this sad world that, when she came to look at herselfagain, after she had been confronted with the sacrifice before her, shefeared that she could not make it without in a manner ceasing to be.
She--
But I shall soon see you again; and, until then, farewell.
END OF PART I
PART SECOND