"If I agreed with your conclusions, I should not try to persuade you,
Darsie; but I do not, and my opportunities of judging are better than
yours."
"You are unfair, Dan. It is a pity to allow yourself to be so
prejudiced that you can't give a fair judgment. I should have imagined
that even you would be forced to admit that Ralph had done better this
term."
Dan did not speak. He turned his head and looked Darsie full in the
eyes, and there was in his look a puzzled, questioning air, which she
found it difficult to understand. When he spoke again, it was not to
reply in any direct way to her accusation, but to ask a question on his
own account.
"Darsie, do you mind telling me--is your position entirely
disinterested? Do you look upon the fellow merely as a man to be
helped, or do you care for him for his own personal sake?"
Darsie deliberated. The firelight played on her downcast face, on the
long white throat rising from the low collar of her white blouse, on the
little hands clenched round the steel poker. Before her mind's eye
arose the memory of handsome, melancholy eyes; imagination conjured back
the sound of impassioned appeals. Her expression softened, her voice
took a deeper note.
"He needs me, Dan!"
That was her answer. Dan nodded in silence, accepting it as sufficient.
He rose from his chair, and paced up and down the room, hands thrust
deep into his trouser pockets, head held back with the characteristic
forward tilt of the chin. Darsie, watching him, thought involuntarily
of a caged animal striving restlessly against the bars. Her heart gave
a little throb of relief when he spoke again in his own natural voice.
"All right, Darsie. Good luck to your efforts! I appreciate your
intentions, and am only sorry that I can't agree. According to my
belief no one can help a man who refuses to help himself. We've got to
fight our own battles, and to bear our own burdens! If some one steps
forward and offers to undertake for us, we may imagine for a time that
we are set free, but it's a mistake! Sooner or later the time comes
when we're bound to fight it out alone, and it doesn't get easier for
being deferred. Everything that is worth learning in life we have to
worry out for ourselves!"
Darsie drew a long, trembling sigh. How puzzling life was, when the two
people on whose judgment you most relied delivered themselves of
directly opposing verdicts! Mrs Reeves believed that her help was all-
important to Ralph's progress; Dan insisted that her efforts were in
vain.
Was he right? Was he wrong? Could she honestly assure herself that
Ralph was stronger, more self-reliant, more able to stand alone without
the stimulus of constant support and encouragement? Instinctively
Darsie's hand went up to touch the little golden brooch which fastened
the lace collar of her blouse. If the anchor were withdrawn, would
Ralph drift once more towards the rocks? The answer was difficult. She
pondered it aloud, speaking in low, anxious tones, with lengthened
pauses between the words.
"We're both right, Dan. We've both got hold of _bits_ of the truth! In
the end we must win through for ourselves, but surely, in preparation
for the battle, we can give each other _some_ help. Some natures seem
made to stand, and others to lean. A prop is not of much account, but
it may serve to keep a plant straight while it is gathering strength.
The big oaks need no props; they are so strong that they can't
understand; they have no pity for weakness."
Dan stopped short in his pacings.
"That meant for me, Darsie?"
"Humph! Just as you please! Oaks are nice things--big, and strong, and
restful, but just a little bit inclined to grow--_gnarled_!"
Dan vouchsafed no reply, and Darsie sat, hands clasped round knees,
staring into the fire for five long, silent minutes. She was hoping
that Dan would never grow "gnarled" towards herself, longing for him to
speak and promise that he would not, but he still remained silent, and
presently the door burst open, the rinking party appeared on the
threshold, and the opportunity for quiet conclave was over.