LEFT to themselves once more, it became William’s task to
comfort June’s distress. Like Sir Arthur, he too, it seemed, could be
tactful. Instead of discussing the question of the Van Roon’s ownership
or the unlucky presence of the Hoodoo, he began gently to discourse of
Mathew Maris.
As far as June was concerned he might as well have discoursed of the
moon. In the first place she had never heard of Mathew Maris; and in
the second she was consumed by a desire to settle forever the question
of the Van Roon which was now tormenting her like a fire. This was
a dynamic moment, when great decisions are reached with startling
abruptness and half a lifetime may be lived in half a minute.
Mathew Maris was not for June just now. Suddenly she broke again into
wild sobs.
“I cheated you, I tricked you over that picture.”
Again, good honest fellow, he tried to change the current of this mind
distraught. But it was not to be.
“You gave it me, didn’t you, because I made you think I had fallen in
love with it? But I hadn’t. It meant nothing to me--not in that way.”
He stood an image of dismay, but he had to listen.
“Why do you suppose I did that? I’ll tell you. I overheard Uncle Si
talking to a dealer. You remember, don’t you, the funny crooked little
man in the knitted comforter and the brown billycock whom I used to
call Foxy Face? One morning when you were out he offered Uncle Si five
pounds for it and Uncle Si said it might be worth a good deal more.
That’s why I decided to get hold of it if I could, before Uncle Si got
it from you. And that’s why I cracked it up and made you think I could
see all sorts of wonders in it, when all the time I saw no more beauty
in it than there is in That.” And she pointed to the Hoodoo.
William gave a little gasp. June heard the gasp. And in the mad
unhappiness of that moment she determined to spare herself nothing. She
would strip herself bare so that the whip might be better laid on.
“Beauty means no more to me than it does to that Thing there. All your
talk about Hobbemas and Marises and Vermeers and Cromes are to me just
sloppy. They bore me stiff every time. I hate the sight of all these
things.” The wave of a wildly tragic hand included all the masterpieces
in the Long Gallery. “I hate them! I hate them! So now you know the
mean and dirty liar that I am.”
No longer able to bear the sound of her strange and terrible words
he turned sickly away. It was almost as if they had opened a vein in
his heart. He remembered again the cry that had haunted him after his
seeing her first at the Hospital. “Am I struck? Am I like Uncle Si? Am
I like the Hoodoo?”
Poor soul! It was not for him to judge her. He could only think of her
sufferings. And it was cruel indeed to realize what they must be now.
“That’s why I don’t want the money. And that’s why I don’t mean to have
it. I burn when I think of it. Now you know how low down I am. I hope
you like the way I’ve cheated you.”
He sought to take her hand, but she withdrew it fiercely. His very
goodness almost made her hate him.