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Summer | Edith Wharton | |
Chapter XVII |
Page 5 of 5 |
After a while Mr. Royall pushed back his chair. "Now, then," he said, "if you're a mind to go along----" She did not move, and he continued: "We can pick up the noon train for Nettleton if you say so." The words sent the blood rushing to her face, and she raised her startled eyes to his. He was standing on the other side of the table looking at her kindly and gravely; and suddenly she understood what he was going to say. She continued to sit motionless, a leaden weight upon her lips. "You and me have spoke some hard things to each other in our time, Charity; and there's no good that I can see in any more talking now. But I'll never feel any way but one about you; and if you say so we'll drive down in time to catch that train, and go straight to the minister's house; and when you come back home you'll come as Mrs. Royall." His voice had the grave persuasive accent that had moved his hearers at the Home Week festival; she had a sense of depths of mournful tolerance under that easy tone. Her whole body began to tremble with the dread of her own weakness. "Oh, I can't----" she burst out desperately. "Can't what?" She herself did not know: she was not sure if she was rejecting what he offered, or already struggling against the temptation of taking what she no longer had a right to. She stood up, shaking and bewildered, and began to speak: "I know I ain't been fair to you always; but I want to be now....I want you to know...I want..." Her voice failed her and she stopped. Mr. Royall leaned against the wall. He was paler than usual, but his face was composed and kindly and her agitation did not appear to perturb him. |
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