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"
What
's
the
matter
,
Meggie
?
"
he
asked
,
so
gently
and
tenderly
her
heart
knocked
frantically
,
and
seemed
to
die
from
the
pain
of
it
,
the
old
query
of
the
grown
man
to
the
little
girl
.
He
had
n't
come
to
Matlock
to
see
the
woman
at
all
.
He
had
come
to
see
the
child
.
It
was
the
child
he
loved
,
not
the
woman
.
The
woman
he
had
hated
from
the
moment
she
came
into
being
.
Round
and
up
came
her
eyes
to
his
,
amazed
,
outraged
,
furious
;
even
now
,
even
now
!
Time
suspended
,
she
stared
at
him
so
,
and
he
was
forced
to
see
,
breath
caught
astounded
,
the
grown
woman
in
those
glass-clear
eyes
.
Meggie
's
eyes
.
Oh
,
God
,
Meggie
's
eyes
!
He
had
meant
what
he
said
to
Anne
Mueller
;
he
just
wanted
to
see
her
,
nothing
more
.
Though
he
loved
her
,
he
had
n't
come
to
be
her
lover
.
Only
to
see
her
,
talk
to
her
,
be
her
friend
,
sleep
on
the
living
room
couch
while
he
tried
once
more
to
unearth
the
taproot
of
that
eternal
fascination
she
possessed
for
him
,
thinking
that
if
only
he
could
see
it
fully
exposed
,
he
might
gain
the
spiritual
means
to
eradicate
it
.
It
had
been
hard
to
adjust
to
a
Meggie
with
breasts
,
a
waist
,
hips
;
but
he
had
done
it
because
when
he
looked
into
her
eyes
,
there
like
the
pool
of
light
in
a
sanctuary
lamp
shone
his
Meggie
.
A
mind
and
a
spirit
whose
pulls
he
had
never
been
free
from
since
first
meeting
her
,
still
unchanged
inside
that
distressingly
changed
body
;
but
while
he
could
see
proof
of
their
continued
existence
in
her
eyes
,
he
could
accept
the
altered
body
,
discipline
his
attraction
to
it
.
And
,
visiting
his
own
wishes
and
dreams
upon
her
,
he
had
never
doubted
she
wanted
to
do
the
same
until
she
had
turned
on
him
like
a
goaded
cat
,
at
Justine
's
birth
.
Even
then
,
after
the
anger
and
hurt
died
in
him
,
he
had
attributed
her
behavior
to
the
pain
she
had
gone
through
,
spiritual
more
than
physical
.
Now
,
seeing
her
at
last
as
she
was
,
he
could
pinpoint
to
a
second
the
moment
when
she
had
shed
the
lenses
of
childhood
,
donned
the
lenses
of
a
woman
:
that
interlude
in
the
Drogheda
cemetery
after
Mary
Carson
's
birthday
party
.
When
he
had
explained
to
her
why
he
could
n't
show
her
any
special
attention
,
because
people
might
deem
him
interested
in
her
as
a
man
.
She
had
looked
at
him
with
something
in
her
eyes
he
had
not
understood
,
then
looked
away
,
and
when
she
turned
back
the
expression
was
gone
.
From
that
time
,
he
saw
now
,
she
had
thought
of
him
in
a
different
light
;
she
had
n't
kissed
him
in
a
passing
weakness
when
she
had
kissed
him
,
then
gone
back
to
thinking
of
him
in
the
old
way
,
as
he
had
her
.
He
had
perpetuated
his
illusions
,
nurtured
them
,
tucked
them
into
his
unchanging
way
of
life
as
best
he
could
,
worn
them
like
a
hair
shirt
.
While
all
the
time
she
had
furnished
her
love
for
him
with
woman
's
objects
.
Admit
it
,
he
had
physically
wanted
her
from
the
time
of
their
first
kiss
,
but
the
want
had
never
plagued
him
the
way
his
love
for
her
had
;
seeing
them
as
separate
and
distinct
,
not
facets
of
the
same
thing
.
She
,
poor
misunderstood
creature
,
had
never
succumbed
to
this
particular
folly
.
At
that
moment
,
had
there
been
any
way
he
could
have
got
off
Matlock
Island
,
he
would
have
fled
from
her
like
Orestes
from
the
Eumenides
.
But
he
could
n't
quit
the
island
,
and
he
did
have
the
courage
to
remain
in
her
presence
rather
than
senselessly
walk
the
night
.
What
can
I
do
,
how
can
I
possibly
make
reparation
?
I
do
love
her
!
And
if
I
love
her
,
it
has
to
be
because
of
the
way
she
is
now
,
not
because
of
a
juvenile
way
station
along
her
road
.
It
's
womanly
things
I
've
always
loved
in
her
;
the
bearing
of
the
burden
.
So
,
Ralph
de
Bricassart
,
take
off
your
blinkers
,
see
her
as
she
really
is
,
not
as
she
was
long
ago
.
Sixteen
years
ago
,
sixteen
long
incredible
years
...
I
am
forty-four
and
she
is
twenty-six
;
neither
of
us
is
a
child
,
but
I
am
by
far
the
more
immature
.
You
took
it
for
granted
the
minute
I
stepped
out
of
Rob
's
car
,
is
n't
that
so
,
Meggie
?
You
assumed
I
had
given
in
at
last
.
And
before
you
even
had
time
to
get
your
breath
back
I
had
to
show
you
how
wrong
you
were
.
I
ripped
the
fabric
of
your
delusion
apart
as
if
it
had
been
a
dirty
old
rag
.
Oh
,
Meggie
!
What
have
I
done
to
you
?
How
could
I
have
been
so
blind
,
so
utterly
self-centered
?
I
've
accomplished
nothing
in
coming
to
see
you
,
unless
it
is
to
cut
you
into
little
pieces
.
All
these
years
we
've
been
loving
at
cross-purposes
.
