Phroso: A Romance

I looked from one to the other of them; then I said:

‘I think I’ll go and ask,’ and I started for the door. The captain’s expression accused me of rudeness. Denny caught me by the arm.

‘It’s not decent yet,’ said he, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘It happened nearly a month ago,’ I pleaded. ‘I’ve had time to get over it, Denny; a man can’t wear the willow all his life.’

‘You old humbug!’ said Denny, but let me go.

I was not long in going. I darted down the stairs. I suppose a man tricks his conscience and will find excuses for himself where others can find only matter for laughter, but I remember congratulating myself on not having spoken the decisive words to Phroso before Denny interrupted us. Well, I would speak them now. I was free to speak them now. Suddenly, in this thought, the vexation at being jilted vanished.

‘It amounts,’ said I to myself, as I reached the hall, ‘to no more than a fortunate coincidence of opinion.’ And I passed through the door and turned sharp round to the left.

She was there waiting for me, and waiting eagerly, it seemed, for, before I could speak, she ran to me, holding out her hands, and she cried in a low urgent whisper, full of entreaty:

‘My lord, I have thought. I have thought while you were in the house. You must not do this, my lord. Yes, I know – now I know – that you love me, but you mustn’t do this. My lord’s honour shan’t be stained for my sake.’

I could not resist it, and I cannot justify it. I assumed a terribly sad expression.

‘You’ve really come to that conclusion, Phroso?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Ah, how difficult it is! But my lord’s honour – ah, don’t tempt me! You will take me to Athens, won’t you? And then – ’

‘And then,’ said I, ‘you’ll leave me?’

‘Yes,’ said Phroso, with a little catch in her voice.

‘And what shall I do, left alone?’

‘Go back,’ murmured Phroso almost inaudibly.

‘Go back – thinking of those wonderful eyes?’

‘No, no. Thinking of – ’

‘The lady who waits for me over the sea?’

‘Yes. And oh, my lord, I pray that you will find happiness!’

There was a moment’s silence. Phroso did not look at me; but then I did look at Phroso.

‘Then you refuse, Phroso, to have anything to say to me?’

No answer at all reached me; I came nearer, being afraid that I might not have heard her reply.

‘What am I to do for a wife, Phroso?’ I asked forlornly. ‘Because, Phroso – ’

‘Ah, my lord, why do you take my hand again?’

‘Did I, Phroso? Because, Phroso, the lady who waits over the sea – it’s a charmingly poetic phrase, upon my word!’

‘You laugh!’ murmured Phroso, in aggrieved protest and wonder.

‘Did I really laugh, Phroso? Well, I’m happy, so I may laugh.’

‘Happy?’ she whispered; then at last her eyes were drawn to mine in mingled hope and anguish of questioning.

‘The lady who waited over the sea,’ said I, ‘waits no longer, Phroso.’

The wonderful eyes grew more wonderful in their amazed widening; and Phroso, laying a hand gently on my arm, said:

‘She waits no longer? My lord, she is dead?’

This confident inference was extremely flattering. There was evidently but one thing which could end the patient waiting of the lady who waited.

‘On the contrary she thinks that I am. Constantine spread news of my death.’

‘Ah, yes!’

‘He said that I died of fever.’

‘And she believes it?’

‘She does, Phroso; and she appears to be really very sorry.’

‘Ah, but what joy will be hers when she learns – ’

‘But, Phroso, before she thought I was dead, she had made up her mind to wait no longer.’

‘To wait no longer? What do you mean? Ah, my lord, tell me what you mean!’

‘What has happened to me, here in Neopalia, Phroso?’

‘Many strange things, my lord – some most terrible.’

‘And some most – most what, Phroso? One thing that has happened to me has, I think, happened also to the lady who waited.’

Phroso’s hand – the one I had not taken – was suddenly stretched out, and she spoke in a voice that sounded half-stifled:

‘Tell me, my lord, tell me. I can’t endure it longer.’

Then I grew grave and said:

‘I am free. She has given me my freedom.’

‘She has set you free?’

‘She loves me no longer, I suppose, if she ever did.’