Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 1 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/537

 not elapsed before he reappeared, heated with rapid walking and wiping his forehead. He flung himself down, and the difference between his perversity and his sincerity was somehow vivid in his eyes.

"I 've done my best!" he said. "My mother 's out of money; she 's expecting next week some circular notes from London. She had only ten francs in her pocket. Mary Garland gave me every sou she possessed in the world. It makes exactly thirty-four francs. That 's not enough."

"You asked Mary Garland?" Rowland cried.

"Yes, I asked her."

"And told her your purpose?"

"I named no names. But she knew."

"What then did she say?"

"Not a syllable. She simply emptied her purse."

Rowland turned over and buried his face in his arms. He felt a movement of irrepressible elation and barely stifled a cry of joy. Now, surely, Roderick had shattered the last link in the chain that bound Mary to him, and after this she would be free—! When he recovered his posture Roderick was still sitting there and had not touched the keys that lay on the grass.

"I don't know what 's the matter with me," said this young man, "but I 've an insurmountable aversion to taking your money."

"The matter, I suppose, is that you 've a grain of reason left."

"No, it 's not that. It 's a kind of brute instinct. I find it extremely provoking!" He sat there for some time with his head in his hands and his eyes on the ground. His expression had turned hard—his 503