'Last night I thought the time was close at hand. I thought in a few
days I could come to you, and ask you for your love. Success of a
certain kind was about to crown an effort of a despicable kind. Of that
I must tell you. To-night I am confessing a wrong I have done you.
That's what it is. O, Becky, the explosion last night took away my
sight, made me a useless blind man, but it opened my eyes too! It is as
if a scroll were outspread before me, on which is a record of all my
tendencies and crucial acts. I can see my failures at the crises of my
life, and I can trace them back to causes, can see wherein a lightly
taken determination has later borne bitter fruit. Last night I thought I
had reached the pinnacle of attainment; in reality I had fallen lower
than ever before. The success which was to be the beginning of all good
things was stolen. I robbed Maxineff of it. He gave me an idea to work
out. I followed his instructions to a point where I knew a different
treatment might bring about a fine result. I saw great possibilities in
the experiment and determined to keep for myself the benefits of it.
From that point I followed my own ideas, and called the thing mine. I
opened correspondence with the representatives of a foreign government.
They agreed to buy the secret in case of a successful test. It was an
excellent bargain I made--I put a high price on the betrayal of my
benefactor! The experiment was successful. I was forced to destroy the
result, why it is needless to say. Last night, when I left you, I went
back to repeat the experiment, intending to make a small quantity to be
used in the test which would have taken place to-morrow. Something went
wrong with the unstable stuff,--and you know the rest.'
In relief from the tension of his confession, his voice dropped lower as
he said, 'Now you know me!'
He shifted his position, stretching out his hands toward her. He touched
her face, started, and drew back.
'And Becky, do you realize that it was after I left you last night that
I went back? After what you told me? O Becky, I am glad I cannot see you
now!'
His voice quivered off to a whisper.
'It is poor consolation that I know myself for what you judge me. I know
bitterly well; I see much now. I could not come to the weakest agreement
with the self I want to be, until I had told you of the wrong I have
done you. And let me think my love is not distasteful to you. I know I
am past your caring for, and I'll never ask it of you, but let me keep
on loving you. Won't you, Becky?'
He paused and listened. He heard Becky's uneven breathing.
'I don't offer any excuse; there is none to offer. I want only the
comparative peace of the assurance that those I have wronged understand
now. I have talked with Mr. Maxineff. He was with me afterwards, when
the pain--He hushed me far too gently, but he will not forget. You will
not forget either, Becky, and you will not excuse. If, though, you
should ask me why, I would say again, I love you. It is the only reason.
I was thinking of you while I was making myself unfit for you to think
of me.'
'Do you care so much?' Becky asked softly.
'Yes. May I keep on caring?'
'To what good?'
'For the sake of the little good in me, which love of you will keep
alive and growing.'
'You ask nothing of me. What will you find in caring for me?'
'There will be a constant joy in knowing that you permit me to care.'
Becky was silent.
'If you won't let me, I am afraid it will make no difference, because I
cannot help it, you know. I don't want to help it; you don't mind my
saying so?'
For a moment neither of them spoke. Noakes rose.
'I--Becky, I thank you for hearing me out.'
He went a step away from her.
'I'm going.'
She did not rise.
'I am glad you have not spoken of my--my mistake; and somehow I am
sorry. I know what you--'
'How do you know what I think?'
'I know; that's all.'
'Don't go, please,' Becky said.
'Hadn't I better? I'm tired, and the doctor--A last acknowledgment: I am
afraid to hear you.'
'But I don't want you to go,' she said softly.
Something in her tone made Noakes turn sharply.
'Becky!'
'Yes, Noakes?'
'You don't--'
'Yes!'
'You love me, and blind?'
'You are brave!'
Her hands were in his when he sat by her side.
'I talked with the doctor this morning,' she said.
'As I did.'
'No. He gave me a message for you.'
'A message from the doctor?'
'It was Mr. Max's notion that I should tell you.'
'What is it?' Noakes asked quickly.
'Your eyes--they will be well in time, if you are very careful.'
As Noakes breathed deep in relief and gratitude, one of his hands
engaged two of Becky's, and he found a different use for the other.
'Noakes,' Becky said, 'I'll take care of the eyes.'