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Page 78
"I shall never forgive him," sighed Philip.
"Latte! latte freschissima! bianca come neve!"
Perfetta came in with another lamp and a little jug.
Gino spoke for the first time. "Put the milk on the
table," he said. "It will not be wanted in the other
room." The peril was over at last. A great sob shook the
whole body, another followed, and then he gave a piercing
cry of woe, and stumbled towards Miss Abbott like a child
and clung to her.
All through the day Miss Abbott had seemed to Philip
like a goddess, and more than ever did she seem so now.
Many people look younger and more intimate during great
emotion. But some there are who look older, and remote, and
he could not think that there was little difference in
years, and none in composition, between her and the man
whose head was laid upon her breast. Her eyes were open,
full of infinite pity and full of majesty, as if they
discerned the boundaries of sorrow, and saw unimaginable
tracts beyond. Such eyes he had seen in great pictures but
never in a mortal. Her hands were folded round the
sufferer, stroking him lightly, for even a goddess can do no
more than that. And it seemed fitting, too, that she should
bend her head and touch his forehead with her lips.
Philip looked away, as he sometimes looked away from the
great pictures where visible forms suddenly become
inadequate for the things they have shown to us. He was
happy; he was assured that there was greatness in the
world. There came to him an earnest desire to be good
through the example of this good woman. He would try
henceforward to be worthy of the things she had revealed.
Quietly, without hysterical prayers or banging of drums, he
underwent conversion. He was saved.
"That milk," said she, "need not be wasted. Take it,
Signor Carella, and persuade Mr. Herriton to drink."
Gino obeyed her, and carried the child's milk to
Philip. And Philip obeyed also and drank.
"Is there any left?"
"A little," answered Gino.
"Then finish it." For she was determined to use such
remnants as lie about the world.
"Will you not have some?"
"I do not care for milk; finish it all."
"Philip, have you had enough milk?"
"Yes, thank you, Gino; finish it all."
He drank the milk, and then, either by accident or in
some spasm of pain, broke the jug to pieces. Perfetta
exclaimed in bewilderment. "It does not matter," he told
her. "It does not matter. It will never be wanted any
more."
Chapter 10
"He will have to marry her," said Philip. "I heard from him
this morning, just as we left Milan. He finds he has gone
too far to back out. It would be expensive. I don't know
how much he minds--not as much as we suppose, I think. At
all events there's not a word of blame in the letter. I
don't believe he even feels angry. I never was so
completely forgiven. Ever since you stopped him killing me,
it has been a vision of perfect friendship. He nursed me,
he lied for me at the inquest, and at the funeral, though he
was crying, you would have thought it was my son who had
died. Certainly I was the only person he had to be kind to;
he was so distressed not to make Harriet's acquaintance, and
that he scarcely saw anything of you. In his letter he says
so again."
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