Recalled to Life by Grant Allen
page 149 of 198 (75%)
page 149 of 198 (75%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
He pushed me gently into a chair.
"I gave you but one false name," he said slowly--"the name of Cheriton. To be sure I, was never christened John, but I'm Jack to my intimates. It was my nickname from a baby. Jack's what I've always been called at home--Jack's what, in the dear old days at Torquay, you always called me. But I saw if I let you know who I was at once, there'd be no chance of recalling the past, and so saving you from yourself. To save you, I consented to that one mild deception. It succeeded in bringing you here, and in keeping you here till Elsie and I were once more what we'd always been to you. I meant to tell you all in the end, when the right time came. Now, you've forced my hand, and I don't know how I can any longer refrain from telling you." "Telling me WHAT?" I said icily. "What do you mean by your words? Why all these dark hints? If you've anything to say, why not say it like a man?" For I loved him so much that in my heart of hearts, I half hoped there might still be some excuse, some explanation. He looked at me solemnly. Then he leant back in his chair and drew his hand across his brow. I could see now why I hadn't recognised that delicate hand before: white as it was by nature, hard work on the farm had long bronzed and distorted it. But I saw also, for the first time, that the palm was scarred with cuts and rents--exactly like Minnie Moore's, exactly like Aunt Emma's. "Una," he began slowly, in a very puzzled tone, "if I could, I'd |
|