The Bostonians, Vol. II | Page 6

bear it,
like decent people."
"Oh, I adore heroism!" Verena interposed.
"And as for women," Ransom went on, "they have one source of
happiness that is closed to us--the consciousness that their presence
here below lifts half the load of our suffering."
Verena thought this very graceful, but she was not sure it was not rather
sophistical; she would have liked to have Olive's judgement upon it. As
that was not possible for the present, she abandoned the question (since
learning that Mr. Ransom had passed over Olive, to come to her, she
had become rather fidgety), and inquired of the young man, irrelevantly,
whether he knew any one else in Cambridge.
"Not a creature; as I tell you, I have never been here before. Your
image alone attracted me; this charming interview will be henceforth
my only association with the place."
"It's a pity you couldn't have a few more," said Verena musingly.
"A few more interviews? I should be unspeakably delighted!"
"A few more associations. Did you see the colleges as you came?"
"I had a glimpse of a large enclosure, with some big buildings. Perhaps
I can look at them better as I go back to Boston."
"Oh yes, you ought to see them--they have improved so much of late.
The inner life, of course, is the greatest interest, but there is some fine
architecture, if you are not familiar with Europe." She paused a
moment, looking at him with an eye that seemed to brighten, and
continued quickly, like a person who had collected herself for a little
jump, "If you would like to walk round a little, I shall be very glad to
show you."

"To walk round--with you to show me?" Ransom repeated. "My dear
Miss Tarrant, it would be the greatest privilege--the greatest
happiness--of my life. What a delightful idea--what an ideal guide!"
Verena got up; she would go and put on her hat; he must wait a little.
Her offer had a frankness and friendliness which gave him a new
sensation, and he could not know that as soon as she had made it
(though she had hesitated too, with a moment of intense reflexion), she
seemed to herself strangely reckless. An impulse pushed her; she
obeyed it with her eyes open. She felt as a girl feels when she commits
her first conscious indiscretion. She had done many things before
which many people would have called indiscreet, but that quality had
not even faintly belonged to them in her own mind; she had done them
in perfect good faith and with a remarkable absence of palpitation. This
superficially ingenuous proposal to walk around the colleges with Mr.
Ransom had really another colour; it deepened the ambiguity of her
position, by reason of a prevision which I shall presently mention. If
Olive was not to know that she had seen him, this extension of their
interview would double her secret. And yet, while she saw it grow--this
monstrous little mystery--she couldn't feel sorry that she was going out
with Olive's cousin. As I have already said, she had become nervous.
She went to put on her hat, but at the door of the room she stopped,
turned round, and presented herself to her visitor with a small spot in
either cheek, which had appeared there within the instant. "I have
suggested this, because it seems to me I ought to do something for
you--in return," she said. "It's nothing, simply sitting there with me.
And we haven't got anything else. This is our only hospitality. And the
day seems so splendid."
The modesty, the sweetness, of this little explanation, with a kind of
intimated desire, constituting almost an appeal, for rightness, which
seemed to pervade it, left a fragrance in the air after she had vanished.
Ransom walked up and down the room, with his hands in his pockets,
under the influence of it, without taking up even once the book about
Mrs. Foat. He occupied the time in asking himself by what perversity
of fate or of inclination such a charming creature was ranting upon
platforms and living in Olive Chancellor's pocket, or how a ranter and

sycophant could possibly be so engaging. And she was so disturbingly
beautiful, too. This last fact was not less evident when she came down
arranged for their walk. They left the house, and as they proceeded he
remembered that he had asked himself earlier how he could do honour
to such a combination of leisure and ethereal mildness as he had waked
up to that morning--a mildness that seemed the very breath of his own
latitude. This question was answered now; to do exactly what he was
doing at that moment was an observance sufficiently festive.

XXV
They passed through two or three small, short