"It happened to me: as birth happened to me once—and death will happen. It was a sort of death, too: or a sort of birth. But as undeniable as either. And without any more grounds."
The old, tremulous man, and the young man were watching one another.
"A natural event," said Sir William.
"A natural event," said Aaron.
"Not that you loved any other woman?"
"God save me from it."
"You just left off loving?"
"Not even that. I went away."
"What from?"
"From it all."
"From the woman in particular?"
"Oh, yes. Yes. Yes, that."
"And you couldn't go back?"
Aaron shook his head.
"Yet you can give no reasons?"
"Not any reasons that would be any good. It wasn't a question of reasons. It was a question of her and me and what must be. What makes a child be born out of its mother, to the pain and trouble of both of them? I don't know."
"But that is a natural process."
"So is this—or nothing."
"No," interposed the Major. "Because birth is a universal process—and yours is a specific, almost unique event."
"Well, unique or not, it so came about. I didn't even leave off loving her—not as far as I know. I left her as I shall leave the earth when I die—because it has to be."
"Do you know what I think it is, Mr. Sisson?" put in Lady Franks. "I think you are just in a wicked state of mind: just that. Mr. Lilly, too. And you must be very careful, or some great misfortune will happen to you."
"It may," said Aaron.
"And it will, mark my word, it will."
"You almost wish it might, as a judgment on me," smiled Aaron.
