Page:The Golden Bowl (Scribner, New York, 1909), Volume 2.djvu/182

THE GOLDEN BOWL "Dearest Maggie," the poor woman broke out on this, "you are divine!"

"They pretended to love me," the Princess went on. "And they pretended to love him."

"And pray what was there that I didn't pretend?"

"Not at any rate to care for me as you cared for Amerigo and for Charlotte. They were much more interesting—it was perfectly natural. How couldn't you like Amerigo?" Maggie continued.

Mrs. Assingham gave it up. "How couldn't I, how couldn't I?" Then with a fine freedom she went all her way. "How can't I, how can't I?"

It fixed afresh Maggie's wide eyes on her. "I see—I see. Well, it's beautiful for you to be able to. And of course," she added, "you wanted to help Charlotte."

"Yes"—Fanny considered it—"I wanted to help Charlotte. But I wanted also, you see, to help you—by not digging up a past that I believed, with so much on top of it, solidly buried. I wanted, as I still want," she richly declared, "to help every one."

It set Maggie once more in movement—movement which however spent itself again with a quick emphasis. "Then it's a good deal my fault—if everything really began so well?"

Fanny Assingham met it as she could. "You've been only too perfect. You've thought only too much—"

But the Princess had already caught at the words. "Yes—I've thought only too much!" Yet she appeared to continue for the minute full of that fault. 172