"There is no explanation except that by what I did in Sannet Wood that afternoon I put myself out of touch with human society until I had done something _for_ human society. G.o.d has been telling me for many days that I owe a debt. I have tried to avoid paying that debt. I tried to escape Him because I knew that he demanded that I must pay my debt before I could come to you. I see this as clearly as I saw yesterday the high white clouds above the football field. G.o.d now is as real to me as you are. It is as though for the rest of my life I must live in a house with two persons. We cannot all live together until certain conditions are granted. I go to make those conditions possible. Because I have broken the law I am an outlaw. I am impelled to win my way back to citizenship again. G.o.d will show me."
"But this is air--all nerves. G.o.d is nothing. G.o.d does not exist."
"G.o.d _does_ exist. I must work out His order and then I will come back to you."
She began to be frightened. She caught his coat in her hands, and desperately pleaded. Then she saw his white set face, and the way that his hands gripped the chair, and it was as though she had suddenly found herself alone in the room.
"Olva, don"t leave me, don"t leave me, Olva. I can"t live without you.
I don"t care what you"ve done. I"ll bear everything with you. I"ll come away with you. I"ll do anything if only you will let me be with you."
"No, I must go alone."
"But it can"t matter--it can"t matter. I"m so unimportant. You shall do what you feel is your duty--only let me be there."
"No, I must go alone."
She began to cry, bitter, miserable, sobbing, sitting on the floor, away from him. Her crying was the only sound in the room.
He bent and touched her--"Margaret dear--you make it so hard."
At last, in that strange beautiful way that she had, control seemed suddenly to come to her; she stood up and looked as though she had, in that brief moment, lived a thousand years of sorrow.
"You will come back?"
"I swear that I will come back to you."
"I--I--will--wait for you."
There, in the dim, unreal room, as they had stood once before, now, standing, they were wrapt together. They were very young to feel such depths of tragedy, to touch such heights of beauty. They were a long time there together.
"Margaret darling, you know that I will come back."
"I know that you will come back."
"Olva!"
"Margaret!"
He left her.
Then, standing with outstretched arms, alone there, she who had but now denied the Pursuer, cried to the dark room--
"G.o.d, G.o.d--send him back to me!"
Some one promised her.
CHAPTER XVII
FIRST CHAPTER
The sun was rising, hard and red, over Sannet Wood and the white frozen flats, when Olva Dune set out. . . .