It's not to be suffered. I'll not suffer it for
one."
At this she lifted her head and reproved him by a look. It was mild,
queenly mild, but not weak. Remote from him and his world, it said, "I
can't hear you."
He understood it so. "Who says I may not speak to you? Who else is to
speak to you if I don't? How can you bear yourself and speak nothing? Is
it natural?" He seemed on the point of angry tears; with a gesture
infinitely kind she bore with him. Her hand just touched his arm.
"Dear Struan," she said, "I know how nice you mean to be to me; I am very
grateful to you. Of course I am going away. I have brought everything on
myself, and must bear the consequences by myself. But I have been happy
here, lately, and shall be most unhappy to go. I have so many friends
here." Then, after looking at him, reflecting, she added, "Of course I
know that you care."
"Care!" he cried out, scornfully. "Do you think that I've watched you, in
and out, for three years without caring? Do you think that I have schooled
myself to put up with--with him--without caring? And when I thought that
he was coming back here to--to prove himself an honourable man--I thanked
the Lord. Yes, I did that.
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