Camelia smiled at him, and he smiled at her, smiles that might have been children kissing and "making up"; frank, and bravely light.
"I thought you were in London," said Camelia. "No; come back, Siegfried, we are going no farther; for you were coming to us, I suppose, Alceste?" She could look at him quite directly. She was not ashamed, no, mercifully she was not ashamed, that was her jubilant thought. After the pang of the first moment she felt the strong conviction, borne in upon her by her own calmness, that her love for him could never shame her, nor her confession of it. The warm power of his friendship kept her from petty terrors. She felt, in a moment, that on her courage depended their future relationship. To ignore the past, to make him ignore it, would be to regain, to keep her friend.
"Yes, I was going to you--of course," said Perior, smiling, as they went towards the road together.
"I have been to Italy, you know, but I came back some time ago. I thought I might be of use."
"Ah! I should have liked to have been of use! but I had been too badly bitten to dare put out a finger!"
"I wouldn't put out fingers, if I were you; it isn't safe--when, they are so pretty." The intimacy was almost caressing; she leaned against it thankfully. Proud to show him that of the crying child there was not a trace, she determined on a swift glance at the past that would put him quite at ease.
"And you are coming back? Since this dreary business of the worsted right is over you won't exile yourself any longer--and rob us? All your friends will be glad to have you again!"
"Will they indeed?" his eyes sought hers for a moment, seemed to see in them the past's triumphant mausoleum, presented for inspection quite magnificently.
"Thanks, Camelia." The boldness delighted him, delighted all of him except that grumbling prisoner who, in his dungeon, felt foolishly aggrieved. "Yes, I am coming back--since I am welcome," he said, adding while they went along the road, "As for the worsted right, the right usually is worsted, in the first place. One must try to keep one's faith in eventual winning."
"Tell me," said Camelia, feeling foundations quite secure, since each had helped the other, "Mr. Rodrigg's opposition, that last speech of his--the satanic eloquence of it!--you don't think--ah! say you don't think me altogether responsible?"