Part 32 (1/2)
”Yes, Clive.”
”So _near_!” he said aloud to himself. ”Couldn't he have spoken to me?--just one word--”
”Dearest--dearest!”
”G.o.d knows why you should see him and I shouldn't! I don't understand--when I was his son--”
”I do not understand either, Clive.”
He seemed not to hear her, standing there with blank gaze s.h.i.+fting from object to object in the room. ”I don't understand,” he kept repeating in a dull, almost querulous voice,--”I don't understand why.” And her heart responded in a pa.s.sion of tenderness and grief.
But she found no further words to say to him, no explanation that might comfort him.
”Will he ever come here--anywhere--again?” he asked suddenly.
”Oh, Clive, I don't know.”
”Don't you know? Couldn't you find out?”
”How? I don't know how to find out. I never try to inquire.”
”Isn't there some way?”
”I don't really know, Clive. How could I know?”
”But when you see such people--shadows--shapes--”
”Yes.... They are not shadows.”
”Do they seem real?”
”Why, yes; as real as you are.”
”Athalie, how _can_ they be?”
”They are to me. There is nothing ghostly about them.”
For a moment it almost seemed to her as though he resented her clear seeing; then he said: ”Have you always been able to see--this way?”
”As long as I can remember.”
”And you have never tried to cultivate the power?”
”I had rather you did not call it that.”
”But it is a power.... Well, call it faculty, then. Have you?”
”No. I told you once that I did not wish to see more clearly than others. It is all involuntary with me.”