things better … for a great many people … as no one but yourself could do it?”
It was a strange way of putting his case: he was aware of it before he ended. But it had not occurred to him to tell her that she was lovely and desirable—in his humility he thought that what he had to give would plead for him better than what he was.
The effect produced on her by his question, though undecipherable, was extraordinary. She stiffened a little, remaining quite motionless, her eyes on the street.
“You!” she just breathed; and he saw that she was beginning to tremble.
His wooing had been harsh and clumsy—he was afraid it had offended her, and his hand trembled too as it sought hers.
“I only thought—it would be a dull business to most women—and I’m tied to it for life … but I thought … I’ve seen so often how you pity suffering … how you long to relieve it.…”
She turned away from him with a shuddering sigh. “Oh, I hate suffering!” she broke out, raising her hands to her face.
Amherst was frightened. How senseless of him to go on reiterating the old plea! He ought to have pleaded for himself—to have let the man in him seek her and take his defeat, instead of beating about the flimsy bush of philanthropy.
[ 465 ]
