She said that she would say good-bye to him then, and
that she hoped he would be back in June. She did not seem quite as
serene as usual, but she spoke very affectionately and gently of
the delight his visit had been. Then she said, "But I somehow feel--
I can't give my reasons--as if we had got into a mess here. You
are rather a disturbing clement, dear Howard! I may speak plainly
to you now, mayn't I? I think you have more effect on people than
you know. You have upset us! I am not criticising you, because you
have exceeded all my hopes. But you are too diffident, and you
don't realise your power of sympathy. You are very observant, very
quick to catch the drift of people's moods, and you are not at all
formidable. You are so much interested in people that you lead them
to reveal themselves and to betray themselves; and they don't find
quite what they expect. You are afraid, I think, of caring for
people; you want to be in close relation with everyone, and yet to
preserve your own tranquillity. You are afraid of emotion; but one
can't care for people like that! It doesn't cost you enough! You
are like a rich man who can afford to pay for things, and I think
you rather pauperise people. Here you have been for three weeks;
and nobody here will be able to forget you; and yet I think you may
forget us. One can't care without suffering, and I think that you
don't suffer. It is all a pleasure and delight to you. You win
hearts, and don't give your own.
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