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The Business of Life

Год написания книги
2017
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But had any bride ever before faced that hearth so silent, so motionless, so pale as was this young girl whose fingers rested so limply in his and whose cold palm grew no warmer against his cheek?

What had he done to her? What had he done to himself – that the joy of things had died out in her eyes – that speech had died on her lips – that nothing in her seemed alive, nothing responded, nothing stirred.

Now, all the bitterness that life and its unwisdom had stored up for him through the swift and reckless years, he tasted. For that cup may not pass. Somewhere, sooner or later, the same lips that have so lightly emptied sweeter draughts must drain this one. None may refuse it, none wave it away until the cup be empty.

"Jacqueline?"

She moved slightly in her chair.

"Tell me," he said, "what is it that can make amends?"

"They – are made."

"But the hurt is still there. What can heal it, dear?"

"I – don't know."

"Time?"

"Perhaps."

"Love?"

"Yes – in time."

"How long?"

"I do not know, Jim."

"Then – what is there for me to do?"

She was silent.

"Could you tell me, Jacqueline?"

"Yes. Have patience – with me."

"With you?"

"It will be necessary."

"How do you mean, dear?"

"I mean you must have patience with me – in many ways. And still be in love with me. And still be loyal to me – and – faithful. I don't know whether a man can do these things. I don't know men. But I know myself – and what I require of men – and of you."

"What you require of me I can be if you love me."

"Then never doubt it. And when I know that you have become what I require you to be, you could not doubt my loving you even if you wished to. Then you will know; until then – you must believe."

He sat thinking before the hearth, the slow flush rising to his temples and remaining.

"What is it you mean to do, Jacqueline?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Nothing, except what I have always done. The business of life remains unchanged; it is always there to be done."

"I mean – are you going to – change – toward me?"

"I have not changed."

"Your confidence in me has gone."

"I have recovered it."

"You believe in me still?"

"Oh, yes – yes!" Her little hand inside his clenched convulsively and her voice broke.

Kneeling beside her, he drew her into his arms and felt her breath suddenly hot and feverish against his shoulder. But if there had been tears in her eyes they dried unshed, for he saw no traces of them when he kissed her.

"In God's name," he whispered, "let the past bury its accursed dead and give me a chance. I love you, worship you, adore you. Give me my chance in life again, Jacqueline!"

"I – I give it to you – as far as in me lies. But it rests with you, Jim, what you will be."

His own philosophy returned to mock him out of the stainless mouth of this young girl! But he said passionately:

"How can I be arbiter of my own fate unless I have all you can give me of love and faith and unswerving loyalty?"

"I give you these."

"Then – as a sign – return the kiss I give you – now."

There was no response.

"Can you not, Jacqueline?"

"Not – yet."

"You – you can not respond!"

"Not – that way – yet."

"Is – have I – has what you know of me killed all feeling, all tenderness in you?"

"No."

"Then – why can you not respond – "

"I can not, Jim – I can not."
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