enefit,
but I doubt it, I doubt it. My faults of melancholy and unrestfulness
had not appeared, I think, in my intercourse with Mrs. Oldcastle, so
cheery and enlivening was her influence. No, I think these really were
her views, and that she aired them purely conversationally, and
without design or afterthought, however kindly. Her own youth she had
most admirably conserved, and in a manner which showed real force of
character and self-control; for, as I now know, she had had some
trying and wearing experiences, though her air and manner were those
of a woman young and high-spirited, who had never known a care. As a
fact she had known what it was, for three years, to fight against the
horrid advance of what was practically a disease, and a terrible one,
in her late husband, the chief cause of whose death was alcoholic
poisoning.
But, though I am almost sure that this particular conversation was in
no sense part of a design or meant to influence me in my relations
with her, yet it did, as a matter of fact, serve to put a period to my
musings, and bring me to a definite decision, which it may be had
considerable importance for both of us. Within forty-eight hours Mrs.
Oldcastle was to leave the _Oronta_, her destination being the South
Australian capital. That I had become none too sure of myself in her
company is proved by the fact that when I left her that evening, it
was with mention of a pretended headache and chill. I kept my cabin
next day, and before noon on the day following that we were due at
Port Adelaide. Mrs. Oldcastle expressed kindly sympathy in the matter
of my supposed indisposition, and that rather upset me. I could see
that my non-appearance during her last full day on board puzzled her,
and I was not prepared to part from her upon a pretence.
'Why, the fact is,' I said, 'I don't think I can accept your sympathy,
because I had no headache or chill. I was a little moody--somewhat
middle-aged, you know; and wanted to be alone, and think.'
'I see,' she said thoughtfully, and rather wonderingly.
'I don't very much think you do,' I told her, not very politely. 'And
I'm not sure that I can explain--even if it were wise to try. I think,
if you don't mind, I'll just say this much: that I greatly value your
friendship, and want to retain it, if I can. It seemed to me better to
have a headache yesterday, in case--in case I might have done anything
to risk losing your friendship.'
'Oh! Well, I do not th
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