"Will you care?" he said.
"Perhaps I ought to hate you, but it is only because you are blind that
you can not understand. On Ophir I was not happy, but at least it was
home. Out there they may laugh at me. It is exciting and wonderful, but
terrifying."
"They will not laugh at you. You will be allowed to live on any
approved planet that you wish, and choose your own profession. You will
be trained at the expense of the Empire. And in a few years you may
be allowed to visit your father and brother on Ophir. Only _visit_, I
mean. Does that sound so bad?"
"But if they laugh--"
"_I_ am not laughing," said Wellesley, with a strange lump in his
throat.
"You might if you could see me. I'm too dark. My eyes are too big. My
ears are too small."
"I _can_ see you," he said.
"Is it true!" She clasped his shoulders. "But when--how long?"
"Since this morning, a little. The effect of the venom is passing.
Now I can see you perfectly, and you are beautiful. Strange, and--and
beautiful."
And she was.
"Do not go to Rigel Twelve. Stay with me," he said. (It was Wellesley's
misfortune that he always sounded like a policeman making an arrest,
but she kissed him anyway.)
And he thought what a fool Amos Sealilly had been.
* * * * *
But Amos Sealilly had had troubles of his own. It was the evening after
Wellesley had taken leave of Ophir forever. Sealilly dreaded the coming
night, as he always did, and had fortified himself against it. He was
drunk, but not drunk enough.
The warehouse was locked for the day. He was walking toward the house,
lurching a little, and mumbling curses as he did so. Then he spied
Joseph.
Joseph, a small figure in the dusk, had just climbed out of the rusty
old peak-tank at the edge of the swamp. He had furnished it with a
bunk, as befit a well-found spaceship, and often slept there.
The fact was that he had been sleeping there all day, having been up
all night. Joseph did not go to school. He yawned and stretched.
Amos Sealilly went on to the house, and started to shut the door behind
him, but Joseph, coming up behind him, pushed it open and came in. He
was breathing hard, having hurried to catch up with his father. He
asked:
"What about the spaceman?"
"What about him?"
"Was he lost in the swamp?"
"Where did you get that idea?" Sealilly said. "He made it. Took off
before you were up this morning, just before dawn."
"I _was_ up," Joseph said. "I thought it was a meteorite. Damn!" He
stamped his small foot.