"No," said Perior, after the little pause his surprise allowed itself.
"I did, I struck her," Mary repeated, with a certain placidity. "You understand?" she added.
Perior was putting two and two together; the result was clearly comprehensible.
"Yes," Perior repeated his assent, adding, "You have saved Camelia, Mary; I don't think she can ever again be blind--or stupid."
"Camelia--stupid?" Mary's little smile was almost arch.
"That is the kindest word, isn't it?" Perior smiled back at her, "Let us be kind, for we are all of us stupid--more or less; you very much less, dear Mary."
Mary's look was grave again, though it thanked him. "You are kind. Camelia has been very unhappy," the words were spoken suddenly, and almost with energy.
"I don't doubt that." Mary closed her eyes, as if all effort, even the passive effort of sight, must be concentrated in her words.
"And I am afraid--she will be very unhappy about me."
"But--unjust. She is nothing--that I thought. Nothing is her fault. It is no one's fault.--I was born--not rich, not pretty, not clever, not even contented; it is no one's fault. I have been cruel. You must comfort her," and Mary suddenly opening her eyes looked at him fixedly. "You must comfort her," she repeated, adding, "I know that you love Camelia."
Perior, with some shame, felt the red go over his face. Mary observed his confusion calmly.
"You need not mind telling me," she said.
"That isn't kind to me," Mary smiled. "You do love her--do you not?"
"I have thought it--sometimes," said Perior, looking away.
"She has always loved you. You too have misjudged Camelia. She told me--last night--she told me that you had rejected her."
"Did she, Mary?" Perior looked down at the hand in his.
"Yes--through love of me. You understand?"
"It brought us together," said Mary, closing her eyes again.
She lay so long without speaking that Perior thought she must, in her weakness, have fallen asleep, but at last she said, the words wavering, for her breath was very shallow, "That is what Camelia needed. Some one--to love--a great deal----" And with an intentness, like the last leap of a dying flame, she added, looking at him, "You will marry Camelia."
"If Camelia will have me," said Perior, bending over her hand and kissing it.