The Ambassadors by Henry James (read people like a book .TXT) 📕

not where you were. And the thing,” she smiled, “was for me not to be there either. You can go of yourself.”

“Oh but I feel today,” he comfortably declared, “that I shall want you yet.”

She took him all in again. “Well, I promise you not again to leave you, but it will only be to follow you. You’ve got your momentum and can toddle alone.”

He intelligently accepted it. “Yes⁠—I suppose I can toddle. It’s the sight of that in fact that has upset Waymarsh. He can bear it⁠—the way I strike him as going⁠—no longer. That’s only the climax of his original feeling. He wants me to quit; and he must have written to Woollett that I’m in peril of perdition.”

“Ah good!” she murmured. “But is it only your supposition?”

“I make it out⁠—it explains.”

“Then he denies?⁠—or you haven’t asked him?”

“I’ve not had time,” Strether said; “I made it out but last night, putting various things together, and I’ve not been since then face to face with him.”

She wondered. “Because you’re too disgusted? You can’t trust yourself?”

He settled his glasses on his nose. “Do I look in a great rage?”

“You look divine!”

“There’s nothing,” he went on, “to be angry about. He has done me on the contrary a service.”

She made it out. “By bringing things to a head?”

“How well you understand!” he almost groaned. “Waymarsh won’t in the least, at any rate, when I have it out with him, deny or extenuate. He has acted from the deepest conviction, with the best conscience and after wakeful nights. He’ll recognise that he’s fully responsible, and will consider that he has been highly successful; so that any discussion we may have will bring us quite together again⁠—bridge the dark stream that has kept us so thoroughly apart. We shall have at last, in the consequences of his act, something we can definitely talk about.”

She was silent a little. “How wonderfully you take it! But you’re always wonderful.”

He had a pause that matched her own; then he had, with an adequate spirit, a complete admission. “It’s quite true. I’m extremely wonderful just now. I dare say in fact I’m quite fantastic, and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if I were mad.”

“Then tell me!” she earnestly pressed. As he, however, for the time answered nothing, only returning the look with which she watched him, she presented herself where it was easier to meet her. “What will Mr. Waymarsh exactly have done?”

“Simply have written a letter. One will have been quite enough. He has told them I want looking after.”

“And do you?”⁠—she was all interest.

“Immensely. And I shall get it.”

“By which you mean you don’t budge?”

“I don’t budge.”

“You’ve cabled?”

“No⁠—I’ve made Chad do it.”

“That you decline to come?”

“That he declines. We had it out this morning and I brought him round. He had come in, before I was down, to tell me he was ready⁠—ready, I mean, to return. And he went off, after ten minutes with me, to say he wouldn’t.”

Miss Gostrey followed with intensity. “Then you’ve stopped him?”

Strether settled himself afresh in his chair. “I’ve stopped him. That is for the time. That”⁠—he gave it to her more vividly⁠—“is where I am.”

“I see, I see. But where’s Mr. Newsome? He was ready,” she asked, “to go?”

“All ready.”

“And sincerely⁠—believing you’d be?”

“Perfectly, I think; so that he was amazed to find the hand I had laid on him to pull him over suddenly converted into an engine for keeping him still.”

It was an account of the matter Miss Gostrey could weigh. “Does he think the conversion sudden?”

“Well,” said Strether, “I’m not altogether sure what he thinks. I’m not sure of anything that concerns him, except that the more I’ve seen of him the less I’ve found him what I originally expected. He’s obscure, and that’s why I’m waiting.”

She wondered. “But for what in particular?”

“For the answer to his cable.”

“And what was his cable?”

“I don’t know,” Strether replied; “it was to be, when he left me, according to his own taste. I simply said to him: ‘I want to stay, and the only way for me to do so is for you to.’ That I wanted to stay seemed to interest him, and he acted on that.”

Miss Gostrey turned it over. “He wants then himself to stay.”

“He half wants it. That is he half wants to go. My original appeal has to that extent worked in him. Nevertheless,” Strether pursued, “he won’t go. Not, at least, so long as I’m here.”

“But you can’t,” his companion suggested, “stay here always. I wish you could.”

“By no means. Still, I want to see him a little further. He’s not in the least the case I supposed, he’s quite another case. And it’s as such that he interests me.” It was almost as if for his own intelligence that, deliberate and lucid, our friend thus expressed the matter. “I don’t want to give him up.”

Miss Gostrey but desired to help his lucidity. She had however to be light and tactful. “Up, you mean⁠—a⁠—to his mother?”

“Well, I’m not thinking of his mother now. I’m thinking of the plan of which I was the mouthpiece, which, as soon as we met, I put before him as persuasively as I knew how, and which was drawn up, as it were, in complete ignorance of all that, in this last long period, has been happening to him. It took no account whatever of the impression I was here on the spot immediately to begin to receive from him⁠—impressions of which I feel sure I’m far from having had the last.”

Miss Gostrey had a smile of the most genial criticism. “So your idea is⁠—more or less⁠—to stay out of curiosity?”

“Call it what you like! I don’t care what it’s called⁠—”

“So long as you do stay? Certainly not then. I call it, all the same, immense fun,” Maria Gostrey declared; “and to see you work it out will be one of the sensations of my life. It is clear you can toddle alone!”

He received this tribute without elation. “I