She will never stand in
my way. I haven't to put her against my duty. She will leave me free to
obey the voice that calls to me. And no man can hear that voice but
himself."
He had been speaking in a clear, self-confident tone, as if at last he
saw his road before him to the end; and felt that nothing else mattered
but that he should go forward hopefully, unfalteringly. Now he paused,
and his eyes wandered. But the lines about his strong mouth deepened.
"Perhaps, I am not of the stuff that conquerors are made," he went on.
"Perhaps, if I were, I should be thinking differently. It comes to me
sometimes that I may be one of those intended only to prepare the
way--that for me there may be only the endless struggle. I may have to
face unpopularity, abuse, failure. She won't mind."
"Nor would you," he added, turning to her suddenly for the first time, "I
know that. But I should be afraid--for you."
She had listened to him without interrupting, and even now she did not
speak for a while.
It was hard not to. She wanted to tell him that he was all wrong--at
least, so far as she was concerned.
Pages:
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350