great; Roderick colored as he
had never done. "Mary Garland? Heaven forgive us!"

Rowland observed the "us;" Roderick threw himself back on the turf. The
latter lay for some time staring at the sky. At last he sprang to his
feet, and Rowland rose also, rejoicing keenly, it must be confessed, in
his companion's confusion.

"For how long has this been?" Roderick demanded.

"Since I first knew her."

"Two years! And you have never told her?"

"Never."

"You have told no one?"

"You are the first person."

"Why have you been silent?"

"Because of your engagement."

"But you have done your best to keep that up."

"That 's another matter!"

"It 's very strange!" said Roderick, presently. "It 's like something in
a novel."

"We need n't expatiate on it," said Rowland. "All I wished to do was to
rebut your charge that I am an abnormal being."

But still Roderick pondered. "All these months, while I was going on! I
wish you had mentioned it."

"I acted as was necessary, and that 's the end of it."

"You have a very high opinion of her?"

"The highest."

"I remember now your occasionally expressing it and my being struck with
it. But I never dreamed you were in love with her. It 's a pity she does
n't care for you!"

Rowland had made his point and he had no wish to prolong the
conversation; but he had a desire to hear more of this, and he remained
silent.

"You hope, I suppose, that some day she may?"

"I should n't have offered to say so; but since you ask me, I do."

"I don't believe it. She idolizes me, and if she never were to see me
again she would idolize my memory."

This might be profound insight, and it might be profound fatuity.
Rowland turned away; he could not trust himself to speak.

"My indifference, my neglect of her, must have seemed to you horrible.
Altogether, I must have appeared simply hideous."

"Do you really care," Rowland asked, "what you appeared?"

"Certainly. I have been damnably stupid. Is n't an artist supposed to be
a man of perceptions? I am hugely disgusted."

"Well, you understand now, and we can start afresh."

"And yet," said Roderick, "though you have suffered, in a degree, I
don't believe you have suffered so much as some other men would have
done."

"Very likely not. In such matters quantitative analysis is difficult."

Roderick picked up his stick and stood looking at the ground.
"Nevertheless, I must have seemed hideous," he repeated--"hideous." He