"Ah, no," she said, "you must not say that. You don't understand....
Even that would mean misery for you--and I--I could not bear. Don't you
see? Even now, before you have done your allotted part, I am
wanting--oh, wanting--to let you go.... But I must not; I must not. You
must go on ... and bear it for a little while more--and then...."
There was a tension somewhere, a string somewhere that was stretched
tight and vibrating. I was tremulous with an excitement that
overmastered my powers of speech, that surpassed my understanding.
"Don't you see ..." she asked again, "you are the past--the passing. We
could never meet. You are ... for me ... only the portrait of a man--of
a man who has been dead--oh, a long time; and I, for you, only a
possibility ... a conception.... You work to bring me on--to make me
possible."
"But--" I said. The idea was so difficult to grasp. "I will--there must
be a way--"
"No," she answered, "there is no way--you must go back; must try. There
will be Churchill and what he stands for--He won't die, he won't even
care much for losing this game ... not much.... And you will have to
forget me. There is no other way--no bridge. We can't meet, you and
I...."
The words goaded me to fury. I began to pace furiously up and down. I
wanted to tell her that I would throw away everything for her, would
crush myself out, would be a lifeless tool, would do anything. But I
could tear no words out of the stone that seemed to surround me.
"You may even tell him, if you like, what I and Gurnard are going to do.
It will make no difference; he will fall. But you would like him to--to
make a good fight for it, wouldn't you? That is all I can do ... for
your sake."
I began to speak--as if I had not spoken for years. The house seemed to
be coming to life; there were noises of opening doors, of voices
outside.
"I believe you care enough," I said "to give it all up for me. I believe
you do, and I want you." I continued to pace up and down. The noises of
returning day grew loud; frightfully loud. It was as if I must hasten,
must get said what I had to say, as if I must raise my voice to make it
heard amid the clamour of a world awakening to life.
"I believe you do ... I believe you do...." I said again and again, "and
I want you." My voice rose higher and higher. She stood motionless, an
inscrutable white figure, like some silent Greek statue, a harmony of
falling folds of heavy drapery perfectly motionless.
"I want you," I said--"I want you, I want you, I want you." It was
unbearable to myself.
"Oh, be quiet," she said at last. "Be quiet! If you had wanted me I have
been here. It is too late. All these days; all these--"
"But ..." I said.
From without someone opened the great shutters of the windows, and the
light from the outside world burst in upon us.