第20章 V(2)

They sobbed. "Ah, look at his marks! Ah, little he thought--little he thought!" In the brown holland strip by the front door a heavy football boot had left its impress. They had not liked Gerald, but he was a man, they were women, he had died. Their mistress ordered them to leave her.

For many minutes she sat at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her eyes. An obscure spiritual crisis was going on.

Should she weep like the servants? Or should she bear up and trust in the consoler Time? Was the death of a man so terrible after all? As she invited herself to apathy there were steps on the gravel, and Rickie Elliot burst in. He was splashed with mud, his breath was gone, and his hair fell wildly over his meagre face. She thought, "These are the people who are left alive!">From the bottom of her soul she hated him.

"I came to see what you're doing," he cried.

"Resting."

He knelt beside her, and she said, "Would you please go away?""Yes, dear Agnes, of course; but I must see first that you mind."Her breath caught. Her eves moved to the treads, going outwards, so firmly, so irretrievably.

He panted, "It's the worst thing that can ever happen to you in all your life, and you've got to mind it you've got to mind it.

They'll come saying, 'Bear up trust to time.' No, no; they're wrong. Mind it."Through all her misery she knew that this boy was greater than they supposed. He rose to his feet, and with intense conviction cried: "But I know--I understand. It's your death as well as his.

He's gone, Agnes, and his arms will never hold you again. In God's name, mind such a thing, and don't sit fencing with your soul. Don't stop being great; that's the one crime he'll never forgive you."She faltered, "Who--who forgives?"

"Gerald."

At the sound of his name she slid forward, and all her dishonesty left her. She acknowledged that life's meaning had vanished.

Bending down, she kissed the footprint. "How can he forgive me?"she sobbed. "Where has he gone to? You could never dream such an awful thing. He couldn't see me though I opened the door--wide--plenty of light; and then he could not remember the things that should comfort him. He wasn't a--he wasn't ever a great reader, and he couldn't remember the things. The rector tried, and he couldn't--I came, and I couldn't--" She could not speak for tears. Rickie did not check her. He let her accuse herself, and fate, and Herbert, who had postponed their marriage. She might have been a wife six months; but Herbert had spoken of self-control and of all life before them. He let her kiss the footprints till their marks gave way to the marks of her lips.

She moaned. "He is gone--where is he?" and then he replied quite quietly, "He is in heaven."She begged him not to comfort her; she could not bear it.

"I did not come to comfort you. I came to see that you mind. He is in heaven, Agnes. The greatest thing is over."Her hatred was lulled. She murmured, "Dear Rickie!" and held up her hand to him. Through her tears his meagre face showed as a seraph's who spoke the truth and forbade her to juggle with her soul. "Dear Rickie--but for the rest of my life what am I to do?""Anything--if you remember that the greatest thing is over.""I don't know you," she said tremulously. "You have grown up in a moment. You never talked to us, and yet you understand it all.

Tell me again--I can only trust you--where he is.""He is in heaven."

"You are sure?"

It puzzled her that Rickie, who could scarcely tell you the time without a saving clause, should be so certain about immortality.