So much of the truth had he lived.
He fought against the new strain that was descending upon him slowly
and steadily as the days passed. He could not but see the new light
that had grown in Miriam Kirkstone's eyes. At times it was more than a
dawn of hope. It was almost certainty. She had faith in him, faith in
his promise to her, in his power to fight, his strength to win. Her
growing friendship with Mary Josephine accentuated this, inspiring her
at times almost to a point of conviction, for Mary Josephine's
confidence in him was a passion. Even McDowell, primarily a fighter of
his own battles, cautious and suspicious, had faith in him while he
waited for Shan Tung. It was this blind belief in him that depressed
him more than all else, for he knew that victory for himself must be
based more or less on deceit and treachery. For the first time he heard
Miriam laugh with Mary Josephine; he saw the gold and the brown head
together out in the sun; he saw her face shining with a light that he
had never seen there before, and then, when he came upon them, their
faces were turned to him, and his heart bled even as he smiled and held
out his hands to Mary Josephine. They trusted him, and he was a liar, a
hypocrite, a Pharisee.
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