"
"I do."
"But," she argued, "that with which I began failed me. I was entirely
certain, at the time; I could not possibly have hesitated. And then--it
died." Her eyes loomed large. "It is quite dead now, and I feel that I
have betrayed myself--broken faith with myself."
He shook his head. "You could not break faith; you are the soul of truth."
This praise she accepted. "I don't tell lies, I hope--and I don't shirk
things. But you see that I can stultify my own acts. I believed, and acted
on my belief; and then I ceased to believe, and acted on that. I cannot
trust myself--I ought to be ashamed to say so, and I hope I am."
Morosine met her eyes again, and held them. "I can never believe that you
would fail. I tell you that you have not failed. It is that you have been
failed. You cannot give if what you give is not taken. Failed--you! Ah,
no, you have succeeded, I think."
She bent her brows as she faced resolutely forward. "I must take the
consequences of what I have done. I see that."
"Ah," said Morosine, "that is a question of courage. Courage you have."
"I need it," she said in a hush, and stopped dead. Ingram stood before
her, and took off his hat.
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