cast off completely; he would have to trust to his own resources. He could never mention Cassandra to Katharine again; for months, and doubtless years, he would never see Katharine again; anything might happen to her in his absence.
Katharine was almost as well aware of his perplexities as he was. She knew in what direction complete generosity pointed the way; but pride—for to remain engaged to Rodney and to cover his experiments hurt what was nobler in her than mere vanity—fought for its life.
‘I’m to give up my freedom for an indefinite time,’ she thought, ‘in order that William may see Cassandra here at his ease. He’s not the courage to manage it without my help—he’s too much of a coward to tell me openly what he wants. He hates the notion of a public breach. He wants to keep us both.’
When she reached this point, Rodney pocketed the letter and elaborately looked at his watch. Although the action meant that he resigned Cassandra, for he knew his own incompetence and distrusted himself entirely, and lost Katharine, for whom his feeling was profound though unsatisfactory, still it appeared to him that there was nothing else left for him to do. He was forced to go, leaving Katharine free, as he had said, to tell her mother that the engagement was at an end. But to do what plain duty required of an honourable man, cost an effort which only a day or two ago would have been inconceivable to him. That a relationship such as he had glanced at with desire could be possible between him and Katharine, he would have been the first, two days ago, to deny with indignation. But now his life had changed; his attitude had changed; his feelings were different; new aims and possibilities had been shown him, and they had an almost irresistible fascination and force. The training of a life of thirty-five years had not left him defenceless; he was still master of his dignity; he rose, with a mind made up to an irrevocable farewell.
‘I leave you, then,’ he said, standing up and holding out his hand with an effort that left him pale, but lent him dignity, ‘to tell your mother that our engagement is ended by your desire.’
She took his hand and held it.
‘You don’t trust me?’ she said.
‘I do, absolutely,’ he replied.
‘No. You don’t trust me to help you ... I could help you?’
‘I’m hopeless without your help!’ he exclaimed passionately, but withdrew his hand and turned his back. When he faced her, she thought that she saw him for the first time without disguise.
‘It’s useless to pretend that I don’t understand what you’re offering, Katharine. I admit what you say. Speaking to you perfectly frankly, I believe at this moment that I
‘Sit beside me. Let’s consider sensibly—’
‘Your sense has been our undoing—’ he groaned.
‘I accept the responsibility.’
‘Ah, but can I allow that?’ he exclaimed. ‘It would mean—for we must face it, Katharine—that we let our engagement stand for the time nominally; in fact, of course, your freedom would be absolute.’
‘And yours too.’
‘Yes, we should both be free. Let us say that I saw Cassandra once, twice, perhaps, under these conditions; and then if, as I think certain, the whole thing proves a dream, we tell your mother instantly. Why not tell her now, indeed, under pledge of secrecy?’
‘Why not? It would be over London in ten minutes, besides, she would never even remotely understand.’
‘Your father, then? This secrecy is detestable—it’s dishonourable.’
‘My father would understand even less than my mother.’
‘Ah, who could be expected to understand?’ Rodney groaned; ‘but it’s from your point of view that we must look at it. It’s not only asking too much, it’s putting you into a position—a position in which I could not endure to see my own sister.’
‘We’re not brothers and sisters,’ she said impatiently, ‘and if we can’t decide, who can? I’m not talking nonsense,’ she proceeded. ‘I’ve done my best to think this out from every point of view, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there are risks which have to be taken, though I don’t deny that they hurt horribly.’
‘Katharine, you mind? You’ll mind too much.’
‘No I shan’t,’ she said stoutly. ‘I shall mind a good deal, but I’m prepared for that; I shall get through it, because you will help me. You’ll both help me. In fact, we’ll help each other. That’s a Christian doctrine, isn’t it?’
‘It sounds more like Paganism to me,’ Rodney groaned, as he reviewed the situation into which her Christian doctrine was plunging them.
And yet he could not deny that a divine relief possessed him, and that the future, instead of wearing a lead- coloured mask, now blossomed with a thousand varied gaieties and excitements. He was actually to see Cassandra within a week or perhaps less, and he was more anxious to know the date of her arrival than he could own even to himself. It seemed base to be so anxious to pluck this fruit of Katharine’s unexampled generosity and of his own contemptible baseness. And yet, though he used these words automatically, they had now no meaning. He was not debased in his own eyes by what he had done, and as for praising Katharine, were they not partners, conspirators, people bent upon the same quest together, so that to praise the pursuit of a common end as an act of generosity was meaningless. He took her hand and pressed it, not in thanks so much as in an ecstasy of comradeship.
‘We will help each other,’ he said, repeating her words, seeking her eyes in an enthusiasm of friendship.
Her eyes were grave but dark with sadness as they rested on him. ‘He’s already gone,’ she thought, ‘far away —he thinks of me no more.’ And the fancy came to her that, as they sat side by side, hand in hand, she could hear the earth pouring from above to make a barrier between them, so that, as they sat, they were separated second by second by an impenetrable wall. The process, which affected her as that of being sealed away and for ever from all companionship with the person she cared for most, came to an end at last, and by common consent they unclasped their fingers, Rodney touching hers with his lips, as the curtain parted, and Mrs Hilbery peered through the opening with her benevolent and sarcastic expression to ask whether Katharine could remember was it Tuesday or
