Fanny Assingham was there to explain away--of this she was duly conscious; for that at least had been true up to now. In the light, however, of Maggie's demonstration the quantity, even without her taking as yet a more exact measure, might well seem larger than ever. Besides which, with or without exactness, the effect of each successive minute in the place was X to put her more in presence of what Maggie herself saw. Maggie herself saw the truth, and that was ; really while they remained there together enough for Mrs. Assingham's relation to it. There was a force in the Princess's mere manner about it that made the detail of what she knew a matter of minor importance. Fanny had in fact something like a momentary shame over her own need of asking for this detail. "I don't pretend to repudiate," she said after a little, "my own impressions of the different times I suppose you speak of; any more," she added, "than I can forget what difficulties and, as it constantly seemed to me, what dangers, every course of action--whatever I should decide upon--made for me. I tried, I tried hard, to act for the best. And, you know," she next pursued while at the sound of her own statement a slow courage and even a faint warmth (169) of conviction came back to her--"and, you know, I believe it's what I shall turn out to have done."
This produced a minute during which their interchange, though quickened and deepened, was that of silence only and the long, charged look; all of which found virtual consecration when Maggie at last spoke. "I'm sure you tried to act for the best."
It kept Fanny Assingham again a minute in silence. "I never thought, dearest, you were n't an angel."
Not however that this alone was much help! "It was up to the very eve, you see," the Princess went on--"up to within two or three days of our marriage. That, THAT, you know--!" And she broke down for strangely smiling.
"Yes, as I say, it was while she was with me. But I did n't know it.
That is," said Fanny Assingham, "I did n't know of anything in particular."
It sounded weak--that she felt; but she had really her point to make. "What I mean is that I don't KNOW, for knowledge, now, anything I did n't then.
That's how I am." She still however floundered. "I mean it's how I WAS."
"But don't they, how you were and how you are," Maggie asked, "come practically to the same thing?" The elder woman's words had struck her own ear as in the tone, now mistimed, of their recent but all too factitious understanding, arrived at in hours when, as there was nothing susceptible of proof, there was nothing definitely to disprove. The situation had changed by--well, by whatever there was, by the outbreak of the definite; and this could keep Maggie at least firm. She was firm enough as she (170) pursued.
"It was ON the whole thing that Amerigo married me." With which her eyes had their turn again at her damnatory piece. "And it was on that--it was on that!" But they came back to her visitor. "And it was on it all that father married HER."
Her visitor took it as might be. "They both married--ah that you must believe!--with the highest intentions."
"Father did certainly!" And then at the renewal of this consciousness it all rolled over her. "Ah to thrust such things on US, to do them here between us and with us day after day and in return, in return--! To do it to HIM--to him, to him!"
Fanny hesitated. "You mean it's for him you most suffer?" And then as the Princess, after a look, but turned away, moving about the room--which made the question somehow seem a blunder--"I ask," she continued, "because I think everything, everything we now speak of, may be for him really, may be MADE for him, quite as if it had n't been."
But Maggie had the next moment faced about as if without hearing her.
"Father did it for ME--did it all and only for me."
Mrs. Assingham, with a certain promptness, threw up her head; but she faltered again before she spoke. "Well--!"
It was only an intended word, but Maggie showed after an instant that it had reached her. "Do you mean that that's the reason, that that's A reason--?"
Fanny at first however, feeling the response in this, did n't say all she meant; she said for the moment something else instead. "He did it for you--largely (171) at least for you. And it was for you that I did, in my smaller interested way--well, what I could do. For I could do something," she continued; "I thought I saw your interest as he himself saw it. And I thought I saw Charlotte's. I believed in her."
"And I believed in her," said Maggie.
Mrs. Assingham waited again; but she presently pushed on. "She believed then in herself."
"Ah?" Maggie murmured.
Something exquisite, faintly eager, in the prompt simplicity of it, supported her friend further. "And the Prince believed. His belief was real. Just as he believed in himself."
Maggie spent a minute in taking it from her. "He believed in himself?"
"Just as I too believed in him. For I absolutely did, Maggie." To which Fanny then added: "And I believe in him yet. I mean," she subjoined--"well, I mean I DO."
Maggie again took it from her; after which she was again restlessly set afloat. Then when this had come to an end: "And do you believe in Charlotte yet?"
Mrs. Assingham had a demur that she felt she could now afford. "We'll talk of Charlotte some other day. They both at any rate thought themselves safe at the time."
"Then why did they keep from me everything I might have known?"
Her friend bent upon her the mildest eyes. "Why did I myself keep it from you?"
"Oh you were n't obliged for honour." (172) "Dearest Maggie," the poor woman broke out on this, "you ARE divine!"
I They pretended to love me," the Princess went on. "And they pretended to love HIM."
"And pray what was there that I did n't pretend?"
"Not at any rate to care for me as you cared for Amerigo and for Charlotte.
They were much more interesting--it was perfectly natural. How could n't you like Amerigo?" Maggie continued.