diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807-0.txt | 8456 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 165912 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807-8.txt | 8456 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 164601 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 174941 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807-h/5807-h.htm | 9999 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807.txt | 8456 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5807.zip | bin | 0 -> 164552 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/5807-h.htm.2021-01-27 | 9998 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/sylvm10.zip | bin | 0 -> 164560 bytes |
13 files changed, 45381 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5807-0.txt b/5807-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..095f8f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/5807-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8456 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia’s Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sylvia’s Marriage + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5807] +This file was first posted on September 4, 2002 +Last Updated: October 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE + +A NOVEL + + +By Upton Sinclair + +Author Of “The Jungle,” Etc., Etc. + +London + + + + +SOME PRESS NOTICES + +“The importance of the theme cannot be doubted, and no one hitherto +ignorant of the ravages of the evil and therefore, by implication, in +need of being convinced can refuse general agreement with Mr. Sinclair +upon the question as he argues it. The character that matters most is +very much alive and most entertaining.”--_The Times._ + +“Very severe and courageous. It would, indeed, be difficult to deny +or extenuate the appalling truth of Mr. Sinclair’s indictment.”-- _The +Nation._ + +“There is not a man nor a grown woman who would not be better for +reading Sylvia’s Marriage.”--_The Globe_ + +“Those who found Sylvia charming on her first appearance will find her +as beautiful and fascinating as ever.”--_The Pall Mall_. + +“A novel that frankly is devoted to the illustration of the dangers +that society runs through the marriage of unsound men with unsuspecting +women. The time has gone by when any objection was likely to be taken to +a perfectly clean discussion of a nasty subject.”--_T.P.’s Weekly._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +BOOK I SYLVIA AS WIFE + +BOOK II SYLVIA AS MOTHER + +BOOK III SYLVIA AS REBEL + + + + + + +SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE + + + + +BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE + + +1. I am telling the story of Sylvia Castleman. I should prefer to tell +it without mention of myself; but it was written in the book of fate +that I should be a decisive factor in her life, and so her story +pre-supposes mine. I imagine the impatience of a reader, who is promised +a heroine out of a romantic and picturesque “society” world, and +finds himself beginning with the autobiography of a farmer’s wife on a +solitary homestead in Manitoba. But then I remember that Sylvia found +me interesting. Putting myself in her place, remembering her eager +questions and her exclamations, I am able to see myself as a heroine of +fiction. + +I was to Sylvia a new and miraculous thing, a self-made woman. I must +have been the first “common” person she had ever known intimately. She +had seen us afar off, and wondered vaguely about us, consoling herself +with the reflection that we probably did not know enough to be unhappy +over our sad lot in life. But here I was, actually a soul like herself; +and it happened that I knew more than she did, and of things she +desperately needed to know. So all the luxury, power and prestige that +had been given to Sylvia Castleman seemed as nothing beside Mary Abbott, +with her modern attitude and her common-sense. + +My girlhood was spent upon a farm in Iowa. My father had eight children, +and he drank. Sometimes he struck me; and so it came about that at +the age of seventeen I ran away with a boy of twenty who worked upon +a neighbour’s farm. I wanted a home of my own, and Tom had some money +saved up. We journeyed to Manitoba, and took out a homestead, where I +spent the next twenty years of my life in a hand-to-hand struggle with +Nature which seemed simply incredible to Sylvia when I told her of it. + +The man I married turned out to be a petty tyrant. In the first five +years of our life he succeeded in killing the love I had for him; but +meantime I had borne him three children, and there was nothing to do but +make the best of my bargain. I became to outward view a beaten drudge; +yet it was the truth that never for an hour did I give up. When I lost +what would have been my fourth child, and the doctor told me that I +could never have another, I took this for my charter of freedom, and +made up my mind to my course; I would raise the children I had, and grow +up with them, and move out into life when they did. + +This was when I was working eighteen hours a day, more than half of +it by lamp-light, in the darkness of our Northern winters. When the +accident came, I had been doing the cooking for half a dozen men, who +were getting in the wheat upon which our future depended. I fell in my +tracks, and lost my child; yet I sat still and white while the men ate +supper, and afterwards I washed up the dishes. Such was my life in +those days; and I can see before me the face of horror with which Sylvia +listened to the story. But these things are common in the experience +of women who live upon pioneer farms, and toil as the slave-woman has +toiled since civilization began. + +We won out, and my husband made money. I centred my energies upon +getting school-time for my children; and because I had resolved that +they should not grow ahead of me, I sat up at night, and studied their +books. When the oldest boy was ready for high-school, we moved to a +town, where my husband had bought a granary business. By that time I +had become a physical wreck, with a list of ailments too painful to +describe. But I still had my craving for knowledge, and my illness was +my salvation, in a way--it got me a hired girl, and time to patronize +the free library. + +I had never had any sort of superstition or prejudice, and when I got +into the world of books, I began quickly to find my way. I travelled +into by-paths, of course; I got Christian Science badly, and New Thought +in a mild attack. I still have in my mind what the sober reader would +doubtless consider queer kinks; for instance, I still practice “mental +healing,” in a form, and I don’t always tell my secret thoughts about +Theosophy and Spiritualism. But almost at once I worked myself out of +the religion I had been taught, and away from my husband’s politics, +and the drugs of my doctors. One of the first subjects I read about was +health; I came upon a book on fasting, and went away upon a visit and +tried it, and came back home a new woman, with a new life before me. + +In all of these matters my husband fought me at every step. He wished +to rule, not merely my body, but my mind, and it seemed as if every new +thing that I learned was an additional affront to him. I don’t think +I was rendered disagreeable by my culture; my only obstinacy was in +maintaining the right of the children to do their own thinking. But +during this time my husband was making money, and filling his life with +that. He remained in his every idea the money-man, an active and bitter +leader of the forces of greed in our community; and when my studies took +me to the inevitable end, and I joined the local of the Socialist party +in our town, it was to him like a blow in the face. He never got over +it, and I think that if the children had not been on my side, he would +have claimed the Englishman’s privilege of beating me with a stick +not thicker than his thumb. As it was, he retired into a sullen +hypochondria, which was so pitiful that in the end I came to regard him +as not responsible. + +I went to a college town with my three children, and when they were +graduated, having meantime made sure that I could never do anything but +torment my husband, I set about getting a divorce. I had helped to lay +the foundation of his fortune, cementing it with my blood, I might say, +and I could fairly have laid claim to half what he had brought from +the farm; but my horror of the parasitic woman had come to be such that +rather than even seem to be one, I gave up everything, and went out into +the world at the age of forty-five to earn my own living. My children +soon married, and I would not be a burden to them; so I came East for +a while, and settled down quite unexpectedly into a place as a +field-worker for a child-labour committee. + +You may think that a woman so situated would not have been apt to meet +Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, _née_ Castleman, and to be chosen for her bosom +friend; but that would only be because you do not know the modern world. +We have managed to get upon the consciences of the rich, and they invite +us to attend their tea-parties and disturb their peace of mind. And +then, too, I had a peculiar hold upon Sylvia; when I met her I possessed +the key to the great mystery of her life. How that had come about is a +story in itself, the thing I have next to tell. + +2. It happened that my arrival in New York from the far West coincided +with Sylvia’s from the far South; and that both fell at a time when +there were no wars or earthquakes or football games to compete for +the front page of the newspapers. So everybody was talking about the +prospective wedding. The fact that the Southern belle had caught +the biggest prize among the city’s young millionaires was enough to +establish precedence with the city’s subservient newspapers, which had +proceeded to robe the grave and punctilious figure of the bridegroom in +the garments of King Cophetua. The fact that the bride’s father was +the richest man in his own section did not interfere with this--for how +could metropolitan editors be expected to have heard of the glories of +Castleman Hall, or to imagine that there existed a section of America so +self-absorbed that its local favourite would not feel herself exalted in +becoming Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver? + +What the editors knew about Castleman Hall was that they wired for +pictures, and a man was sent from the nearest city to “snap” + this unknown beauty; whereupon her father chased the presumptuous +photographer and smashed his camera with a cane. So, of course, when +Sylvia stepped out of the train in New York, there was a whole battery +of cameras awaiting her, and all the city beheld her image the next day. + +The beginning of my interest in this “belle” from far South was when I +picked up the paper at my breakfast table, and found her gazing at me, +with the wide-open, innocent eyes of a child; a child who had come from +some fairer, more gracious world, and brought the memory of it with her, +trailing her clouds of glory. She had stepped from the train into the +confusion of the roaring city, and she stood, startled and frightened, +yet, I thought, having no more real idea of its wickedness and horror +than a babe in arms. I read her soul in that heavenly countenance, and +sat looking at it, enraptured, dumb. There must have been thousands, +even in that metropolis of Mammon, who loved her from that picture, and +whispered a prayer for her happiness. + +I can hear her laugh as I write this. For she would have it that I was +only one more of her infatuated lovers, and that her clouds of glory +were purely stage illusion. She knew exactly what she was doing with +those wide-open, innocent eyes! Had not old Lady Dee, most cynical +of worldlings, taught her how to use them when she was a child in +pig-tails? To be sure she had been scared when she stepped off the +train, and strange men had shoved cameras under her nose. It was almost +as bad as being assassinated! But as to her heavenly soul--alas, for the +blindness of men, and of sentimental old women, who could believe in a +modern “society” girl! + +I had supposed that I was an emancipated woman when I came to New York. +But one who has renounced the world, the flesh and the devil, knowing +them only from pictures in magazines and Sunday supplements; such a +one may find that he has still some need of fasting and praying. +The particular temptation which overcame me was this picture of the +bride-to-be. I wanted to see her, and I went and stood for hours in a +crowd of curious women, and saw the wedding party enter the great Fifth +Avenue Church, and discovered that my Sylvia’s hair was golden, and her +eyes a strange and wonderful red-brown. And this was the moment that +fate had chosen to throw Claire Lepage into my arms, and give me the key +to the future of Sylvia’s life. + +3. I am uncertain how much I should tell about Claire Lepage. It is a +story which is popular in a certain sort of novel, but I have no wish +for that easy success. Towards Claire herself I had no trace of the +conventional attitude, whether of contempt or of curiosity. She was to +me the product of a social system, of the great New Nineveh which I was +investigating. And later on, when I knew her, she was a weak sister whom +I tried to help. + +It happened that I knew much more about such matters than the average +woman--owing to a tragedy in my life. When I was about twenty-five years +old, my brother-in-law had moved his family to our part of the world, +and one of his boys had become very dear to me. This boy later on +had got into trouble, and rather than tell anyone about it, had shot +himself. So my eyes had been opened to things that are usually hidden +from my sex; for the sake of my own sons, I had set out to study the +underground ways of the male creature. I developed the curious custom of +digging out every man I met, and making him lay bare his inmost life to +me; so you may understand that it was no ordinary pair of woman’s arms +into which Claire Lepage was thrown. + +At first I attributed her vices to her environment, but soon I realized +that this was a mistake; the women of her world do not as a rule go to +pieces. Many of them I met were free and independent women, one or two +of them intellectual and worth knowing. For the most part such women +marry well, in the worldly sense, and live as contented lives as the +average lady who secures her life-contract at the outset. If you had met +Claire at an earlier period of her career, and if she had been concerned +to impress you, you might have thought her a charming hostess. She +had come of good family, and been educated in a convent--much better +educated than many society girls in America. She spoke English as well +as she did French, and she had read some poetry, and could use the +language of idealism whenever necessary. She had even a certain +religious streak, and could voice the most generous sentiments, and +really believe that she believed them. So it might have been some time +before you discovered the springs of her weakness. + +In the beginning I blamed van Tuiver; but in the end I concluded that +for most of her troubles she had herself to thank--or perhaps the +ancestors who had begotten her. She could talk more nobly and act more +abjectly than any other woman I have ever known. She wanted pleasant +sensations, and she expected life to furnish them continuously. +Instinctively she studied the psychology of the person she was dealing +with, and chose a reason which would impress that person. + +At this time, you understand, I knew nothing about Sylvia Castleman +or her fiancé, except what the public knew. But now I got an inside +view--and what a view! I had read some reference to Douglas van Tuiver’s +Harvard career: how he had met the peerless Southern beauty, and had +given up college and pursued her to her home. I had pictured the +wooing in the rosy lights of romance, with all the glamour of worldly +greatness. But now, suddenly, what a glimpse into the soul of the +princely lover! “He had a good scare, let me tell you,” said Claire. “He +never knew what I was going to do from one minute to the next.” + +“Did he see you in the crowd before the church door?” I inquired. + +“No,” she replied, “but he thought of me, I can promise you.” + +“He knew you were coming?” + +She answered, “I told him I had got an admission card, just to make sure +he’d keep me in mind!” + +4. I did not have to hear much more of Claire’s story before making up +my mind that the wealthiest and most fashionable of New York’s young +bachelors was a rather self-centred person. He had fallen desperately in +love with the peerless Southern beauty, and when she had refused to +have anything to do with him, he had come back to the other woman for +consolation, and had compelled her to pretend to sympathize with his +agonies of soul. And this when he knew that she loved him with the +intensity of a jealous nature. + +Claire had her own view of Sylvia Castleman, a view for which I +naturally made due reservations. Sylvia was a schemer, who had known +from the first what she wanted, and had played her part with masterly +skill. As for Claire, she had striven to match her moves, plotting +in the darkness against her, and fighting desperately with such weak +weapons as she possessed. It was characteristic that she did not +blame herself for her failure; it was the baseness of van Tuiver, his +inability to appreciate sincere devotion, his unworthiness of her love. +And this, just after she had been naively telling me of her efforts to +poison his mind against Sylvia while pretending to admire her! But I +made allowances for Claire at this moment--realizing that the situation +had been one to overstrain any woman’s altruism. + +She had failed in her subtleties, and there had followed scenes of +bitter strife between the two. Sylvia, the cunning huntress, having +pretended to relent, van Tuiver had gone South to his wooing again, +while Claire had stayed at home and read a book about the poisoners +of the Italian renaissance. And then had come the announcement of the +engagement, after which the royal conqueror had come back in a panic, +and sent embassies of his male friends to plead with Claire, alternately +promising her wealth and threatening her with destitution, appealing +to her fear, her cupidity, and even to her love. To all of which I +listened, thinking of the wide-open, innocent eyes of the picture, and +shedding tears within my soul. So must the gods feel as they look down +upon the affairs of mortals, seeing how they destroy themselves by +ignorance and folly, seeing how they walk into the future as a blind man +into a yawning abyss. + +I gave, of course, due weight to the sneers of Claire. Perhaps the +innocent one really had set a trap--had picked van Tuiver out and +married him for his money. But even so, I could hope that she had not +known what she was doing. Surely it had never occurred to her that +through all the days of her triumph she would have to eat and sleep with +the shade of another woman at her side! + +Claire said to me, not once, but a dozen times, “He’ll come back to me. +She’ll never be able to make him happy.” And so I pictured Sylvia upon +her honeymoon, followed by an invisible ghost whose voice she would +never hear, whose name she would never know. All that van Tuiver had +learned from Claire, the sensuality, the _ennin_, the contempt for +woman--it would rise to torment and terrify his bride, and turn her +life to bitterness. And then beyond this, deeps upon deeps, to which +my imagination did not go--and of which the Frenchwoman, with all +her freedom of tongue, gave me no more than a hint which I could not +comprehend. + +5. Claire Lepage at this time was desperately lonely and unhappy. Having +made the discovery that my arms were sturdy, used to doing a man’s +work, she clung to them. She begged me to go home with her, to visit +her--finally to come and live with her. Until recently an elderly +companion, had posed as her aunt, and kept her respectable while she +was upon van Tuiver’s yacht, and at his castle in Scotland. But this +companion had died, and now Claire had no one with whom to discuss her +soul-states. + +She occupied a beautiful house on the West Side, not far from Riverside +Drive; and in addition to the use of this she had an income of eight +thousand a year--which was not enough to make possible a chauffeur, nor +even to dress decently, but only enough to keep in debt upon. Such as +the income was, however, she was willing to share it with me. So +there opened before me a new profession--and a new insight into the +complications of parasitism. + +I went to see her frequently at first, partly because I was interested +in her and her associates, and partly because I really thought I could +help her. But I soon came to realize that influencing Claire was like +moulding water; it flowed back round your hands, even while you worked. +I would argue with her about the physiological effects of alcohol, and +when I had convinced her, she would promise caution; but soon I would +discover that my arguments had gone over her head. I was at this time +feeling my way towards my work in the East. I tried to interest her in +such things as social reform, but realized that they had no meaning for +her. She was living the life of the pleasure-seeking idlers of the great +metropolis, and every time I met her it seemed to me that her character +and her appearance had deteriorated. + +Meantime I picked up scraps of information concerning the van Tuivers. +There were occasional items in the papers, their yacht, the “Triton,” + had reached the Azores; it had run into a tender in the harbour +of Gibraltar; Mr. and Mrs. van Tuiver had received the honour of +presentation at the Vatican; they were spending the season in London, +and had been presented at court; they had been royal guests at the +German army-manoeuvres. The million wage-slaves of the metropolis, +packed morning and night into the roaring subways and whirled to and +from their tasks, read items such as these and were thrilled by the +triumphs of their fellow-countrymen. + +At Claire’s house I learned to be interested in “society” news. From +a weekly paper of gossip about the rich and great she would read +paragraphs, explaining subtle allusions and laying bare veiled scandals. +Some of the men she knew well, referring to them for my benefit as +Bertie and Reggie and Vivie and Algie. She also knew not a little about +the women of that super-world--information sometimes of an intimate +nature, which these ladies would have been startled to hear was going +the rounds. + +This insight I got into Claire’s world I found useful, needless to say, +in my occasional forays as a soap-box orator of Socialism. I would go +from the super-heated luxury of her home to visit tenement-dens where +little children made paper-flowers twelve and fourteen hours a day for a +trifle over one cent an hour. I would spend the afternoon floating about +in the park in the automobile of one of her expensive friends, and then +take the subway and visit one of the settlements, to hear a discussion +of conditions which doomed a certain number of working-girls to be +burned alive every year in factory fires. + +As time went on, I became savage concerning such contrasts, and the +speeches I was making for the party began to attract attention. During +the summer, I recollect, I had begun to feel hostile even towards the +lovely image of Sylvia, which I had framed in my room. While she was +being presented at St. James’s, I was studying the glass-factories +in South Jersey, where I found little boys of ten working in front of +glowing furnaces until they dropped of exhaustion and sometimes had +their eyes burned out. While she and her husband were guests of the +German Emperor, I was playing the part of a Polish working-woman, +penetrating the carefully guarded secrets of the sugar-trust’s domain in +Brooklyn, where human lives are snuffed out almost every day in noxious +fumes. + +And then in the early fall Sylvia came home, her honeymoon over. +She came in one of the costly suites in the newest of the _de luxe_ +steamers; and the next morning I saw a new picture of her, and read +a few words her husband had condescended to say to a fellow traveller +about the courtesy of Europe to visiting Americans. Then for a couple +of months I heard no more of them. I was busy with my child-labour +work, and I doubt if a thought of Sylvia crossed my mind, until that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon at Mrs. Allison’s when she came up to me +and took my hand in hers. + +6. Mrs. Roland Allison was one of the comfortable in body who had +begun to feel uncomfortable in mind. I had happened to meet her at +the settlement, and tell her what I had seen in the glass factories; +whereupon she made up her mind that everybody she knew must hear me +talk, and to that end gave a reception at her Madison Avenue home. + +I don’t remember much of what I said, but if I may take the evidence of +Sylvia, who remembered everything, I spoke effectively. I told them, for +one thing, the story of little Angelo Patri. Little Angelo was of that +indeterminate Italian age where he helped to support a drunken father +without regard to the child-labour laws of the State of New Jersey. +His people were tenants upon a fruit-farm a couple of miles from the +glass-factory, and little Angelo walked to and from his work along the +railroad-track. It is a peculiarity of the glass-factory that it has to +eat its children both by day and by night; and after working six hours +before midnight and six more after midnight, little Angelo was tired. He +had no eye for the birds and flowers on a beautiful spring morning, but +as he was walking home, he dropped in his tracks and fell asleep. The +driver of the first morning train on that branch-line saw what he +took to be an old coat lying on the track ahead, and did not stop to +investigate. + +All this had been narrated to me by the child’s mother, who had worked +as a packer of “beers,” and who had loved little Angelo. As I repeated +her broken words about the little mangled body, I saw some of my +auditors wipe away a surreptitious tear. + +After I had stopped, several women came up to talk with me at the last, +when most of the company was departing, there came one more, who had +waited her turn. The first thing I saw was her loveliness, the thing +about her that dazzled and stunned people, and then came the strange +sense of familiarity. Where had I met this girl before? + +She said what everybody always says; she had been so much interested, +she had never dreamed that such conditions existed in the world. I, +applying the acid test, responded, “So many people have said that to me +that I have begun to believe it.” + +“It is so in my case,” she replied, quickly. “You see, I have lived all +my life in the South, and we have no such conditions there.” + +“Are you sure?” I asked. + +“Our negroes at least can steal enough to eat,” she said. + +I smiled. Then--since one has but a moment or two to get in one’s work +in these social affairs, and so has to learn to thrust quickly: “You +have timber-workers in Louisiana, steel-workers in Alabama. You have +tobacco-factories, canning-factories, cotton-mills--have you been to any +of them to see how the people live?” + +All this I said automatically, it being the routine of the agitator. +But meantime in my mind was an excitement, spreading like a flame. The +loveliness of this young girl; the eagerness, the intensity of feeling +written upon her countenance; and above all, the strange sense of +familiarity! Surely, if I had met her before, I should never have +forgotten her; surely it could not be--not possibly-- + +My hostess came, and ended my bewilderment. “You ought to get Mrs. van +Tuiver on your child-labour committee,” she said. + +A kind of panic seized me. I wanted to say, “Oh, it is Sylvia +Castleman!” But then, how could I explain? I couldn’t say, “I have your +picture in my room, cut out of a newspaper.” Still less could I say, “I +know a friend of your husband.” + +Fortunately Sylvia did not heed my excitement. (She had learned by this +time to pretend not to notice.) “Please don’t misunderstand me,” she +was saying. “I really _don’t_ know about these things. And I would do +something to help if I could.” As she said this she looked with the +red-brown eyes straight into mine--a gaze so clear and frank and honest, +it was as if an angel had come suddenly to earth, and learned of the +horrible tangle into which we mortals have got our affairs. + +“Be careful what you’re saying,” put in our hostess, with a laugh. +“You’re in dangerous hands.” + +But Sylvia would not be warned. “I want to know more about it,” she +said. “You must tell me what I can do.” + +“Take her at her word,” said Mrs. Allison, to me. “Strike while the iron +is hot!” I detected a note of triumph in her voice; if she could say +that she had got Mrs. van Tuiver to take up child-labour--that indeed +would be a feather to wear! + +“I will tell you all I can,” I said. “That’s my work in the world.” + +“Take Mrs. Abbott away with you,” said the energetic hostess, to Sylvia; +and before I quite understood what was happening, I had received and +accepted an invitation to drive in the park with Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver. In her role of _dea ex machina_ the hostess extricated me from +the other guests, and soon I was established in a big new motor, gliding +up Madison Avenue as swiftly and silently as a cloud-shadow over the +fields. As I write the words there lies upon my table a Socialist paper +with one of Will Dyson’s vivid cartoons, representing two ladies of the +great world at a reception. Says the first, “These social movements are +becoming _quite_ worth while!” “Yes, indeed,” says the other. “One meets +such good society!” + +7. Sylvia’s part in this adventure was a nobler one than mine, Seated as +I was in a regal motor-car, and in company with one favoured of all +the gods in the world, I must have had an intense conviction of my own +saintliness not to distrust my excitement. But Sylvia, for her part, had +nothing to get from me but pain. I talked of the factory-fires and +the horrors of the sugar-refineries, and I saw shadow after shadow of +suffering cross her face. You may say it was cruel of me to tear the +veil from those lovely eyes, but in such a matter I felt myself the +angel of the Lord and His vengeance. + +“I didn’t know about these things!” she cried again. And I found it was +true. It would have been hard for me to imagine anyone so ignorant +of the realities of modern life. The men and women she had met she +understood quite miraculously, but they were only two kinds, the “best +people” and their negro servants. There had been a whole regiment of +relatives on guard to keep her from knowing anybody else, or anything +else, and if by chance a dangerous fact broke into the family stockade, +they had formulas ready with which to kill it. + +“But now,” Sylvia went on, “I’ve got some money, and I can help, so +I dare not be ignorant any longer. You must show me the way, and my +husband too. I’m sure he doesn’t know what can be done.” + +I said that I would do anything in my power. Her help would be +invaluable, not merely because of the money she might give, but because +of the influence of her name; the attention she could draw to any +cause she chose. I explained to her the aims and the methods of our +child-labour committee. We lobbied to get new legislation; we watched +officials to compel them to enforce the laws already existing; above +all, we worked for publicity, to make people realise what it meant that +the new generation was growing up without education, and stunted by +premature toil. And that was where she could help us most--if she would +go and see the conditions with her own eyes, and then appear before the +legislative committee this winter, in favour of our new bill! + +She turned her startled eyes upon me at this. Her ideas of doing good +in the world were the old-fashioned ones of visiting and almsgiving; +she had no more conception of modern remedies than she had of modern +diseases. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly make a speech!” she exclaimed. + +“Why not?” I asked. + +“I never thought of such a thing. I don’t know enough.” + +“But you can learn.” + +“I know, but that kind of work ought to be done by men.” + +“We’ve given men a chance, and they have made the evils. Whose business +is it to protect the children if not the women’s?” + +She hesitated a moment, and then said: “I suppose you’ll laugh at me.” + +“No, no,” I promised; then as I looked at her I guessed. “Are you going +to tell me that woman’s place is the home?” + +“That is what we think in Castleman County,” she said, smiling in spite +of herself. + +“The children have got out of the home,” I replied. “If they are ever to +get back, we women must go and fetch them.” + +Suddenly she laughed--that merry laugh that was the April sunshine of +my life for many years. “Somebody made a Suffrage speech in our State +a couple of years ago, and I wish you could have seen the horror of my +people! My Aunt Nannie--she’s Bishop Chilton’s wife--thought it was the +most dreadful thing that had happened since Jefferson Davis was put in +irons. She talked about it for days, and at last she went upstairs and +shut herself in the attic. The younger children came home from school, +and wanted to know where mamma was. Nobody knew. Bye and bye, the cook +came. ‘Marse Basil, what we gwine have fo’ dinner? I done been up to +Mis’ Nannie, an’ she say g’way an’ not pester her--she busy.’ Company +came, and there was dreadful confusion--nobody knew what to do about +anything--and still Aunt Nannie was locked in! At last came dinner-time, +and everybody else came. At last up went the butler, and came down with +the message that they were to eat whatever they had, and take care of +the company somehow, and go to prayer-meeting, and let her alone--she +was writing a letter to the Castleman County _Register_ on the subject +of ‘The Duty of Woman as a Homemaker’!” + +8. This was the beginning of my introduction to Castleman County. It was +a long time before I went there, but I learned to know its inhabitants +from Sylvia’s stories of them. Funny stories, tragic stories, wild and +incredible stories out of a half-barbaric age! She would tell them and +we would laugh together; but then a wistful look would come into her +eyes, and a silence would fall. So very soon I made the discovery that +my Sylvia was homesick. In all the years that I knew her she never +ceased to speak of Castleman Hall as “home”. All her standards came from +there, her new ideas were referred there. + +We talked of Suffrage for a while, and I spoke about the lives of women +on lonely farms--how they give their youth and health to their husband’s +struggle, yet have no money partnership which they can enforce in +case of necessity. “But surely,” cried Sylvia, “you don’t want to make +divorce more easy!” + +“I want to make the conditions of it fair to women,” I said. + +“But then more women will get it! And there are so many divorced women +now! Papa says that divorce is a greater menace than Socialism!” + +She spoke of Suffrage in England, where women were just beginning to +make public disturbances. Surely I did not approve of their leaving +their homes for such purposes as that! As tactfully as I could, I +suggested that conditions in England were peculiar. There was, for +example, the quaint old law which permitted a husband to beat his wife +subject to certain restrictions. Would an American woman submit to such +a law? There was the law which made it impossible for a woman to divorce +her husband for infidelity, unless accompanied by desertion or cruelty. +Surely not even her father would consider that a decent arrangement! I +mentioned a recent decision of the highest court in the land, that a man +who brought his mistress to live in his home, and compelled his wife +to wait upon her, was not committing cruelty within the meaning of the +English law. I heard Sylvia’s exclamation of horror, and met her stare +of incredulity; and then suddenly I thought of Claire, and a little +chill ran over me. It was a difficult hour, in more ways than one, that +of my first talk with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + +I soon made the discovery that, childish as her ignorance was, there was +no prejudice in it. If you brought her a fact, she did not say that it +was too terrible to be true, or that the Bible said otherwise, or that +it was indecent to know about it. Nor, when you met her next, did you +discover that she had forgotten it. On the contrary, you discovered that +she had followed it to its remote consequences, and was ready with a +score of questions as to these. I remember saying to myself, that first +automobile ride: “If this girl goes on thinking, she will get into +trouble! She will have to stop, for the sake of others!” + +“You must meet my husband some time,” she said; and added, “I’ll have to +see my engagement-book. I have so much to do, I never know when I have a +moment free.” + +“You must find it interesting,” I ventured. + +“I did, for a while; but I’ve begun to get tired of so much going about. +For the most part I meet the same people, and I’ve found out what they +have to say.” + +I laughed. “You have caught the society complaint already--_ennui_!” + +“I had it years ago, at home. It’s true I never would have gone out at +all if it hadn’t been for the sake of my family. That’s why I envy a +woman like you--” + +I could not help laughing. It was too funny, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver +envying me! + +“What’s the matter?” she asked. + +“Just the irony of life. Do you know, I cut you out of the newspaper, +and put you in a little frame on my bureau. I thought, here is the +loveliest face I’ve ever seen, and here is the most-to-be-envied of +women.” + +She smiled, but quickly became serious. “I learned very early in life +that I was beautiful; and I suppose if I were suddenly to cease being +beautiful, I’d miss it; yet I often think it’s a nuisance. It makes one +dependent on externals. Most of the beautiful women I’ve known make a +sort of profession of it--they live to shine and be looked at. + +“And you don’t enjoy that?” I asked. + +“It restricts one’s life. Men expect it of you, they resent your having +any other interest.” + +“So,” I responded, gravely, “with all your beauty and wealth, you aren’t +perfectly happy?” + +“Oh, yes!” she cried--not having meant to confess so much. “I told +myself I would be happy, because I would be able to do so much good in +the world. There must be some way to do good with money! But now I’m +not sure; there seem to be so many things in the way. Just when you have +your mind made up that you have a way to help, someone comes and points +out to you that you may be really doing harm.” + +She hesitated again, and I said, “That means you have been looking into +the matter of charity.” + +She gave me a bright glance. “How you understand things!” she exclaimed. + +“It is possible,” I replied, “to know modern society so well that when +you meet certain causes you know what results to look for.” + +“I wish you’d explain to me why charity doesn’t do any good!” + +“It would mean a lecture on the competitive wage-system,” I laughed-- +“too serious a matter for a drive!” + +This may have seemed shirking on my part. But here I was, wrapped in +luxurious furs, rolling gloriously through the park at twilight on a +brilliant autumn evening; and the confiscation of property seems so much +more startling a proposition when you are in immediate contact with +it! This principle, which explains the “opportunism” of Socialist +cabinet-ministers and Labour M.P.s may be used to account for the sudden +resolve which I had taken, that for this afternoon at least Mrs. Douglas +van Tuiver should not discover that I was either a divorced woman, or a +soap-box orator of the revolution. + +9. Sylvia, in that first conversation, told me much about herself that +she did not know she was telling. I became fairly certain, for instance, +that she had not married Mr. Douglas van Tuiver for love. The young girl +who has so married does not suffer from ennui in the first year, nor +does she find her happiness depending upon her ability to solve the +problem of charity in connection with her husband’s wealth. + +She would have ridden and talked longer, she said, but for a dinner +engagement. She asked me to call on her, and I promised to come some +morning, as soon as she set a day. When the car drew up before the +door of her home, I thought of my first ride about the city in the +“rubber-neck wagon,” and how I had stared when the lecturer pointed out +this mansion. We, the passengers, had thrilled as one soul, imagining +the wonderful life which must go on behind those massive portals, the +treasures outshining the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, which required +those thick, bronze bars for their protection. And here was the mistress +of all the splendour, inviting me to come and see it from within! + +She wanted to send me home in the car, but I would not have that, on +account of the push-cart men and the babies in my street; I got out +and walked--my heart beating fast, my blood leaping with exultation. I +reached home, and there on the bureau was the picture--but behold, how +changed! It was become a miracle of the art of colour-photography; its +hair was golden, its eyes a wonderful red-brown, its cheeks aglow with +the radiance of youth! And yet more amazing, the picture spoke! It spoke +with the most delicious of Southern drawls--referring to the “repo’t” of +my child-labour committee, shivering at the cold and bidding me pull the +“fu-uzz” up round me. And when I told funny stories about the Italians +and the Hebrews of my tenement-neighbourhood, it broke into silvery +laughter, and cried: “Oh, de-ah me! How que-ah!” Little had I dreamed, +when I left that picture in the morning, what a miracle was to be +wrought upon it. + +I knew, of course, what was the matter with me; the symptoms were +unmistakable. After having made up my mind that I was an old woman, and +that there was nothing more in life for me save labour--here the little +archer had come, and with the sharpest of his golden arrows, had shot +me through. I had all the thrills, the raptures and delicious agonies of +first love; I lived no longer in myself, but in the thought of another +person. Twenty times a day I looked at my picture, and cried aloud: “Oh, +beautiful, beautiful!” + +I do not know how much of her I have been able to give. I have told of +our first talk--but words are so cold and dead! I stop and ask: What +there is, in all nature, that has given me the same feeling? I remember +how I watched the dragon-fly emerging from its chrysalis. It is soft and +green and tender; it clings to a branch and dries its wings in the sun, +and when the miracle is completed, there for a brief space it poises, +shimmering with a thousand hues, quivering with its new-born ecstasy. +And just so was Sylvia; a creature from some other world than ours, +as yet unsoiled by the dust and heat of reality. It came to me with +a positive shock, as a terrifying thing, that there should be in this +world of strife and wickedness any young thing that took life with +such intensity, that was so palpitating with eagerness, with hope, with +sympathy. Such was the impression that one got of her, even when her +words most denied it. She might be saying world-weary and cynical +things, out of the maxims of Lady Dee; but there was still the +eagerness, the sympathy, surging beneath and lifting her words. + +The crown of her loveliness was her unconsciousness of self. Even though +she might be talking of herself, frankly admitting her beauty, she was +really thinking of other people, how she could get to them to help them. +This I must emphasize, because, apart from jesting, I would not have it +thought that I had fallen under the spell of a beautiful countenance, +combined with a motor-car and a patrician name. There were things about +Sylvia that were aristocratic, that could be nothing else; but she could +be her same lovely self in a cottage--as I shall prove to you before I +finish with the story of her life. + +I was in love. At that time I was teaching myself German, and I sat one +day puzzling out two lines of Goethe: + +“Oden and Thor, these two thou knowest; Freya, the heavenly, knowest +thou not.” + +And I remember how I cried aloud in sudden delight: _“I know her!”_ For +a long time that was one of my pet names--“Freya dis Himmlische!” I only +heard of one other that I preferred--when in course of time she told me +about Frank Shirley, and how she had loved him, and how their hopes had +been wrecked. He had called her “Lady Sunshine”; he had been wont to +call it over and over in his happiness, and as Sylvia repeated it to +me--“Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!” I could imagine that I caught an +echo of the very tones of Frank Shirley’s voice. + +10. For several days I waited upon the postman, and when the summons +came I dodged a committee-meeting, and ascended the marble stairs with +trepidation, and underwent the doubting scrutiny of an English lackey, +sufficiently grave in deportment and habiliments to have waited upon a +bishop in his own land. I have a vague memory of an entrance-hall with +panelled paintings and a double-staircase with a snow-white carpet, +about which I had read in the newspapers that it was woven in one piece, +and had cost an incredible sum. One did not have to profane it with his +feet, as there was an elevator provided. + +I was shown to Sylvia’s morning-room, which had been “done” in pink and +white and gold by some decorator who had known her colours. It was large +enough to have held half-a-dozen of my own quarters, and the sun was +allowed to flood it. Through a door at one side came Sylvia, holding out +her hands to me. + +She was really glad to see me! She began to apologize at once for the +time she had taken to write. It was because she had so much to do. She +had married into a world that took itself seriously: the “idle rich,” + who worked like slaves. “You know,” she said, while we sat on a pink +satin couch, and a footman brought us coffee: “you read that Mrs. +So-and-so is a ‘social queen,’ and you think it’s a newspaper phrase, +but it isn’t; she really feels that she’s a queen, and other people +feel it, and she goes through her ceremonies as solemnly as the Lord’s +anointed.” + +She went on to tell me some of her adventures. She had a keen sense of +fun, and was evidently suffering for an outlet for it. She saw through +the follies and pretences of people in a flash, but they were all such +august and important people that, out of regard for her husband, she +dared not let them suspect her clairvoyant power. + +She referred to her experiences abroad. She had not liked Europe--being +quite frankly a provincial person. To Castleman County a foreigner was +a strange, dark person who mixed up his consonants, and was under +suspicion of being a fiddler or an opera-singer. The people she had met +under her husband’s charge had been socially indubitable, but still, +they were foreigners, and Sylvia could never really be sure what they +meant. + +There was, for instance, the young son of a German steel-king, a person +of amazing savoir faire, who had made bold to write books and exhibit +pictures, and had travelled so widely that he had even heard of +Castleman County. He had taken Sylvia to show her the sights of Berlin, +and had rolled her down the “Sieges Allée,” making outrageous fun of his +Kaiser’s taste in art, and coming at last to a great marble column, with +a female figure representing Victory upon the top. “You will observe,” + said the cultured young plutocrat, “that the Grecian lady stands a +hundred meters in the air, and has no stairway. There is a popular +saying about her which is delightful--that she is the only chaste woman +in Berlin!” + +I had been through the culture-seeking stage, and knew my Henry James; +so I could read between the lines of Sylvia’s experiences. I figured +her as a person walking on volcanic ground, not knowing her peril, but +vaguely disquieted by a smell of sulphur in the air. And once in a while +a crack would open in the ground! There was the Duke of Something in +Rome, for example, a melancholy young man, with whom she had coquetted, +as she did, in her merry fashion, with every man she met. Being married, +she had taken it for granted that she might be as winsome as she chose; +but the young Italian had misunderstood the game, and had whispered +words of serious import, which had so horrified Sylvia that she flew +to her husband and told him the story--begging him incidentally not to +horse-whip the fellow. In reply it had to be explained to her she had +laid herself liable to the misadventure. The ladies of the Italian +aristocracy were severe and formal, and Sylvia had no right to expect an +ardent young duke to understand her native wildness. + +11. Something of that sort was always happening--something in each +country to bewilder her afresh, and to make it necessary for her husband +to remind her of the proprieties. In France, a cousin of van Tuiver’s +had married a marquis, and they had visited the chateau. The family was +Catholic, of the very oldest and strictest, and the brother-in-law, a +prelate of high degree, had invited the guests to be shown through his +cathedral. “Imagine my bewilderment!” said Sylvia. “I thought I was +going to meet a church dignitary, grave and reverent; but here was a +wit, a man of the world. Such speeches you never heard! I was ravished +by the grandeur of the building, and I said: ‘If I had seen this, I +would have come to you to be married.’ ‘Madame is an American,’ +he replied. ‘Come the next time!’ When I objected that I was not a +Catholic, he said: ‘Your beauty is its own religion!’ When I protested +that he would be doing me too great an honour, ‘Madame,’ said he, ‘the +_honneur_ would be all to the church!’ And because I was shocked at all +this, I was considered to be a provincial person!” + +Then they had come to London, a dismal, damp city where you “never saw +the sun, and when you did see it it looked like a poached egg”; where +you had to learn to eat fish with the help of a knife, and where you +might speak of bitches, but must never on any account speak of your +stomach. They went for a week-end to “Hazelhurst,” the home of the +Dowager Duchess of Danbury, whose son van Tuiver, had entertained in +America, and who, in the son’s absence, claimed the right to repay the +debt. The old lady sat at table with two fat poodle dogs in infants’ +chairs, one on each side of her, feeding out of golden trays. There +was a visiting curate, a frightened little man at the other side of one +poodle; in an effort to be at ease he offered the wheezing creature a +bit of bread. “Don’t feed my dogs!” snapped the old lady. “I don’t allow +anybody to feed my dogs!” + +And then there was the Honourable Reginald Annersley, the youngest son +of the family, home from Eton on vacation. The Honourable Reginald was +twelve years of age, undersized and ill-nourished. (“They feed them +badly,” his mother had explained, “an’ the teachin’s no good either, +but it’s a school for gentlemen.”) “Honestly,” said Sylvia, “he was the +queerest little mannikin--like the tiny waiter’s assistants you see in +hotels on the Continent. He wore his Eton suit, you understand--grown-up +evening clothes minus the coat-tails, and a top hat. He sat at tea and +chatted with the mincing graces of a cotillion-leader; you expected to +find some of his hair gone when he took off his hat! He spoke of his +brother, the duke, who had gone off shooting seals somewhere. ‘The jolly +rotter has nothing to do but spend his money; but we younger sons have +to work like dogs when we grow up!’ I asked what he’d do, and he said ‘I +suppose there’s nothin’ but the church. It’s a beastly bore, but you do +get a livin’ out of it.’ + +“That was too much for me,” said Sylvia. “I proceeded to tell the poor, +blasé infant about my childhood; how my sister Celeste and I had caught +half-tamed horses and galloped about the pasture on them, when we were +so small that our little fat legs stuck out horizontally; how we had +given ourselves convulsions in the green apple orchard, and had to be +spanked every day before we had our hair combed. I told how we heard +a war-story about a ‘train of gunpowder,’ and proceeded to lay such a +train about the attic of Castleman Hall, and set fire to it. I might +have spent the afternoon teaching the future churchman how to be a boy, +if I hadn’t suddenly caught a glimpse of my husband’s face!” + +12. I did not hear these stories all at once. I have put them together +here because they make a little picture of her honeymoon, and also +because they show how, without meaning it, she was giving me an account +of her husband. + +There had been even fewer adventures in the life of young Douglas van +Tuiver than in the life of the Honourable Reginald Annersley. When one +heard the details of the up-bringing of this “millionaire baby,” one was +able to forgive him for being self-centred. He had grown into a man who +lived to fulfil his social duties, and he had taken to wife a girl who +was reckless, high-spirited, with a streak of almost savage pride in +her. + +Sylvia’s was the true aristocratic attitude towards the rest of the +world. It could never have occurred to her to imagine that anywhere +upon the whole earth there were people superior to the Castlemans of +Castleman County. If you had been ignorant enough to suggest such an +idea, you would have seen her eyes flash and her nostrils quiver; you +would have been enveloped in a net of bewilderment and transfixed with +a trident of mockery and scorn. That was what she had done in her +husband-hunt. The trouble was that van Tuiver was not clever enough +to realise this, and to trust her prowess against other beasts in the +social jungle. + +Strange to me were such inside glimpses into the life of these two +favourites of the gods! I never grew weary of speculating about them, +and the mystery of their alliance. How had Sylvia come to make this +marriage? She was not happy with him; keen psychologist that she was, +she must have foreseen that she would not be happy with him. Had she +deliberately sacrificed herself, because of the good she imagined she +could do to her family? + +I was beginning to believe this. Irritated as she was by the solemn +snobberies of van Tuiver’s world, it was none the less true that she +believed in money; she believed in it with a faith which appalled me as +I came to realise it. Everybody had to have money; the social graces, +the aristocratic virtues were impossible without it. The rich needed +it--even the poor needed it! Could it be that the proud Castlemans of +Castleman County had needed it also? + +If that guess at her inmost soul was correct, then what a drama was her +meeting with me! A person who despised money, who had proven it by grim +deeds--and this a person of her own money-worshipping sex! What was the +meaning of this phenomenon--this new religion that was challenging the +priesthood of Mammon? So some Roman consul’s daughter might have sat in +her father’s palace, and questioned in wonder a Christian slave woman, +destined ere long to face the lions in the arena. + +The exactness of this simile was not altered by the fact that in this +case the slave woman was an agnostic, while the patrician girl had +been brought up in the creed of Christ. Sylvia had long since begun to +question the formulas of a church whose very pews were rented, and whose +existence, she declared, had to be justified by charity to the poor. As +we sat and talked, she knew this one thing quite definitely--that I had +a religion, and she had none. That was the reason for the excitement +which possessed her. + +Nor was that fact ever out of my own mind for a moment. As she sat there +in her sun-flooded morning-room, clad in an exquisite embroidered robe +of pink Japanese silk, she was such a lovely thing that I was ready to +cry out for joy of her; and yet there was something within me, grim and +relentless, that sat on guard, warning me that she was of a different +faith from mine, and that between those two faiths there could be no +compromise. Some day she must find out what I thought of her husband’s +wealth, and the work it was doing in the world! Some day she must hear +my real opinion of the religion of motor-cars and hand-woven carpets! + +13. Nor was the day so very far off. She sat opposite me, leaning +forward in her eagerness, declaring: “You must help to educate me. I +shall never rest until I’m of some real use in the world.” + +“What have you thought of doing?” I inquired. + +“I don’t know yet. My husband has an aunt who’s interested in a +day-nursery for the children of working-women. I thought I might help +this, but my husband says it does no good whatever--it only makes +paupers of the poor. Do you think so?” + +“I think more than that,” I replied. “It sets women free to compete with +men, and beat down men’s wages.” + +“Oh, what a puzzle!” she exclaimed, and then: “Is there any way of +helping the poor that wouldn’t be open to the same objection?” + +That brought us once more to the subject I had put aside at our last +meeting. She had not forgotten it, and asked again for an explanation. +What did I mean by the competitive wage system? + +My purpose in this writing is to tell the story of Sylvia Castleman’s +life, to show, not merely what she was, but what she became. I have to +make real to you a process of growth in her soul, and at this moment the +important event is her discovery of the class-struggle and her reaction +to it. You may say, perhaps, that you are not interested in the +class-struggle, but you cannot alter the fact that you live in an age +when millions of people are having the course of their lives changed by +the discovery of it. Here, for instance, is a girl who has been taught +to keep her promises, and has promised to love, honour and obey a man; +she is to find the task more difficult, because she comes to understand +the competitive wage-system while he does not understand it and does not +wish to. If that seems to you strange material out of which to make a +domestic drama, I can only tell you that you have missed some of the +vital facts of your own time. + +I gave her a little lesson in elementary economics. I showed her how, +when a capitalist needed labour, he bought it in the open market, like +any other commodity. He did not think about the human side of it, he +paid the market-price, which came to be what the labourer had to have +in order to live. No labourer could get more, because others would take +less. + +“If that be true,” I continued, “one of the things that follows is the +futility of charity. Whatever you do for the wage-worker on a general +scale comes sooner or later out of his wages. If you take care of his +children all day or part of the day, he can work for less; if he doesn’t +discover that someone else does, and underbids him and takes his place. +If you feed his children at school, if you bury him free, if you insure +his life, or even give him a dinner on Christmas Day, you simply enable +his landlord to charge him more, or his employer to pay him less.” + +Sylvia sat for a while in thought, and then asked: “What can be done +about such a fact?” + +“The first thing to be done is to make sure that you understand it. +Nine-tenths of the people who concern themselves with social questions +don’t, and so they waste their time in futilities. For instance, I read +the other day an article by a benevolent old gentleman who believed that +the social problem could be solved by teaching the poor to chew their +food better, so that they would eat less. You may laugh at that, but +it’s not a bit more absurd than the idea of our men of affairs, that the +thing to do is to increase the efficiency of the workers, and so produce +more goods.” + +“You mean the working-man doesn’t get more, even when he produces more?” + +“Take the case of the glass factories. Men used to get eight dollars a +day there, but someone invented a machine that did the work of a dozen +men, and that machine is run by a boy for fifty cents a day.” + +A little pucker of thought came between her eyes. “Might there not be a +law forbidding the employer to reduce wages?” + +“A minimum wage law. But that would raise the cost of the product, and +drive the trade to another state.” + +She suggested a national law, and when I pointed out that the trade +would go to other countries, she fell back on the tariff. I felt like an +embryologist--watching the individual repeating the history of the race! + +“Protection and prosperity!” I said, with a smile. “Don’t you see the +increase in the cost of living? The working-man gets more money in his +pay envelope, but he can’t buy more with it because prices go up. And +even supposing you could pass a minimum wage law, and stop competition +in wages, you’d only change it to competition in efficiency--you’d throw +the old and the feeble and the untrained into pauperism.” + +“You make the world seem a hard place to live in,” protested Sylvia. + +“I’m simply telling you the elementary facts of business. You can forbid +the employer to pay less than a standard wage, but you can’t compel him +to employ people who aren’t able to earn that wage. The business-man +doesn’t employ for fun, he does it for the profit there is in it.” + +“If that is true,” said Sylvia, quickly, “then the way of employing +people is cruel.” + +“But what other way could you have?” + +She considered. “They could be employed so that no one would make a +profit. Then surely they could be paid enough to live decently!” + +“But whose interest would it be to employ them without profit?” + +“The State should do it, if no one else will.” + +I had been playing a game with Sylvia, as no doubt you have perceived. +“Surely,” I said, “you wouldn’t approve anything like that!” + +“But why not?” + +“Because, it would be Socialism.” + +She looked at me startled. “Is that Socialism?” + +“Of course it is. It’s the essence of Socialism.” + +“But then--what’s the harm in it?” + +I laughed. “I thought you said that Socialism was a menace, like +divorce!” + +I had my moment of triumph, but then I discovered how fond was the +person who imagined that he could play with Sylvia. “I suspect you are +something of a Socialist yourself,” she remarked. + +She told me a long time afterwards what had been her emotions during +these early talks. It was the first time in her life that she had ever +listened to ideas that were hostile to her order, and she did so with +tremblings and hesitations, combating at every step an impulse to flee +to the shelter of conventionality. She was more shocked by my last +revelation than she let me suspect. It counted for little that I +had succeeded in trapping her in proposing for herself the economic +programme of Socialism, for what terrifies her class is not our economic +programme, it is our threat of slave-rebellion. I had been brought up +in a part of the world where democracy is a tradition, a word to conjure +with, and I supposed that this would be the case with any American--that +I would only have to prove that Socialism was democracy applied to +industry. How could I have imagined the kind of “democracy” which had +been taught to Sylvia by her Uncle Mandeville, the politician of the +family, who believed that America was soon to have a king, to keep the +“foreign riff-raff” in its place! + +14. At this time I was living in a three-roomed apartment in one of the +new “model tenements” on the East Side. I had a saying about the place, +that it was “built for the proletariat and occupied by cranks.” What an +example for Sylvia of the futility of charity--the effort on the part +of benevolent capitalists to civilise the poor by putting bath-tubs in +their homes, and the discovery that the graceless creatures were using +them for the storage of coals! + +Having heard these strange stories, Sylvia was anxious to visit me, and +I was, of course, glad to invite her. I purchased a fancy brand of tea, +and some implements for the serving of it, and she came, and went into +raptures over my three rooms and bath, no one of which would have made +more than a closet in her own apartments. I suspected that this was her +Southern _noblesse oblige_, but I knew also that in my living room +there were some rows of books, which would have meant more to Sylvia van +Tuiver just then than the contents of several clothes-closets. + +I was pleased to discover that my efforts had not been wasted. She +had been thinking, and she had even found time, in the midst of her +distractions, to read part of a book. In the course of our talks I had +mentioned Veblen, and she had been reading snatches of his work on the +Leisure Class, and I was surprised, and not a little amused, to observe +her reaction to it. + +When I talked about wages and hours of labour, I was dealing with things +that were remote from her, and difficult to make real; but Veblen’s +theme, the idle rich, and the arts and graces whereby they demonstrate +their power, was the stuff of which her life was made. The subtleties of +social ostentation, the minute distinctions between the newly-rich +and the anciently-rich, the solemn certainties of the latter and the +quivering anxieties of the former--all those were things which Sylvia +knew as a bird knows the way of the wind. To see the details of them +analysed in learned, scientific fashion, explained with great mouthfuls +of words which one had to look up in the dictionary--that was surely +a new discovery in the book-world! “Conspicuous leisure!” “Vicarious +consumption of goods!” “Oh, de-ah me, how que-ah!” exclaimed Sylvia. + +And what a flood of anecdotes it let loose! A flood that bore us +straight back to Castleman Hall, and to all the scenes of her young +ladyhood! If only Lady Dee could have revised this book of Veblen’s, how +many points she could have given to him! No details had been too minute +for the technique of Sylvia’s great-aunt--the difference between the +swish of the right kind of silk petticoats and the wrong kind; and yet +her technique had been broad enough to take in a landscape. “Every girl +should have a background,” had been one of her maxims, and Sylvia had to +have a special phaeton to drive, a special horse to ride, special roses +which no one else was allowed to wear. + +“Conspicuous expenditure of time,” wrote Veblen. It was curious, said +Sylvia, but nobody was free from this kind of vanity. There was dear old +Uncle Basil, a more godly bishop never lived, and yet he had a foible +for carving! In his opinion the one certain test of a gentleman was the +ease with which he found the joints of all kinds of meat, and he was in +arms against the modern tendency to turn such accomplishments over to +butlers. He would hold forth on the subject, illustrating his theories +with an elegant knife, and Sylvia remembered how her father and the +Chilton boys had wired up the joints of a duck for the bishop to work +on. In the struggle the bishop had preserved his dignity, but lost the +duck, and the bishop’s wife, being also high-born, and with a long line +of traditions behind her, had calmly continued the conversation, while +the butler removed the smoking duck from her lap! + +Such was the way of things at Castleman Hall! The wild, care-free +people--like half-grown children, romping their way through life! There +was really nothing too crazy for them to do, if the whim struck them. +Once a visiting cousin had ventured the remark that she saw no reason +why people should not eat rats; a barn-rat was clean in its person, +and far choicer in its food than a pig. Thereupon “Miss Margaret” had +secretly ordered the yard-man to secure a barn-rat; she had had it +broiled, and served in a dish of squirrels, and had sat by and watched +the young lady enjoy it! And this, mind you, was Mrs. Castleman of +Castleman Hall, mother of five children, and as stately a dame as ever +led the grand march at the Governor’s inaugural ball! “Major Castleman,” + she would say to her husband, “you may take me into my bedroom, and when +you have locked the door securely, you may spit upon me, if you wish; +but don’t you dare even to _imagine_ anything undignified about me in +public!” + +15. In course of time Sylvia and I became very good friends. Proud as +she was, she was lonely, and in need of some one to open her eager mind +to. Who was there safer to trust than this plain Western woman, who +lived so far, both in reality and in ideas, from the great world of +fashion? + +Before we parted she considered it necessary to mention my relationship +to this world. She had a most acute social conscience. She knew exactly +what formalities she owed to everyone, just when she ought to call, and +how long she ought to stay, and what she ought to ask the other person +to do in return; she assumed that the other knew it all exactly as well, +and would suffer if she failed in the slightest degree. + +So now she had to throw herself upon my mercy. “You see,” she explained, +“my husband wouldn’t understand. I may be able to change him gradually, +but if I shock him all at once--” + +“My dear Mrs. van Tuiver--” I smiled. + +“You can’t really imagine!” she persisted. “You see, he takes his social +position so seriously! And when you are conspicuous--when everybody’s +talking about what you do--when everything that’s the least bit unusual +is magnified--” + +“My dear girl!” I broke in again. “Stop a moment and let me talk!” + +“But I hate to have to think--” + +“Don’t worry about my thoughts! They are most happy ones! You must +understand that a Socialist cannot feel about such things as you do; we +work out our economic interpretation of them, and after that they are +simply so much data to us. I might meet one of your great friends, and +she might snub me, but I would never think she had snubbed _me_--it +would be my Western accent, and my forty-cent hat, and things like +that which had put me in a class in her mind. My real self nobody can +snub--certainly not until they’ve got at it.” + +“Ah!” said Sylvia, with shining eyes. “You have your own kind of +aristocracy, I see!” + +“What I want,” I said, “is you. I’m an old hen whose chickens have grown +up and left her, and I want something to mother. Your wonderful social +world is just a bother to me, because it keeps me from gathering you +into my arms as I’d like to. So what you do is to think of some role for +me to play, so that I can come to see you; let me be advising you about +your proposed day-nursery, or let me be a tutor of something, or a nice, +respectable sewing-woman who darns the toes of your silk stockings!” + +She laughed. “If you suppose that I’m allowed to wear my stockings until +they have holes in them, you don’t understand the perquisites of maids.” + She thought a moment, and then added: “You might come to trim hats for +me.” + +By that I knew that we were really friends. If it does not seem to you +a bold thing for Sylvia to have made a joke about my hat, it is +only because you do not yet know her. I have referred to her +money-consciousness and her social-consciousness; I would be idealizing +her if I did not refer to another aspect of her which appalled me when I +came to realise it--her clothes-consciousness. She knew every variety of +fabric and every shade of colour and every style of design that ever +had been delivered of the frenzied sartorial imagination. She had been +trained in all the infinite minutiae which distinguished the right from +the almost right; she would sweep a human being at one glance, and stick +him in a pigeon hole of her mind for ever--because of his clothes. When +later on she had come to be conscious of this clothes-consciousness, +she told me that ninety-nine times out of a hundred she had found this +method of appraisal adequate for the purposes of society life. What a +curious comment upon our civilization--that all that people had to +ask of one another, all they had to give to one another, should be +expressible in terms of clothes! + +16. I had set out to educate Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver in the things I +thought she needed to know. A part of my programme was to find some +people of modern sympathies whom she might meet without offence to +her old prejudices. The first person I thought of was Mrs. Jessie +Frothingham, who was the head of a fashionable girls’ school, just +around the corner from Miss Abercrombie’s where Sylvia herself had +received the finishing touch. Mrs. Frothingham’s was as exclusive and +expensive a school as the most proper person could demand, and great was +Sylvia’s consternation when I told her that its principal was a member +of the Socialist party, and made no bones about speaking in public for +us. + +How in the world did she manage it? For one thing, I answered, she ran +a good school--nobody had ever been heard to deny that. For another, she +was an irresistibly serene and healthy person, who would look one of her +millionaire “papas” in the eye and tell him what was what with so much +decision; it would suddenly occur to the great man that if his daughter +could be made into so capable a woman, he would not care what ticket she +might vote. + +Then too, it was testimony to the headway we are making that we are +ceasing to be dangerous, and getting to be picturesque. In these days of +strenuous social competition, when mammas are almost at their wits’ end +for some new device, when it costs incredible sums to make no impression +at all--here was offered a new and inexpensive way of being unique. +There could be no question that men were getting to like serious women; +the most amazing subjects were coming up at dinner-parties, and you +might hear the best people speak disrespectfully of their own money, +which means that the new Revolution will have not merely its “Egalité +Orleans,” but also some of the ladies of his family! + +I telephoned from Sylvia’s house to Mrs. Frothingham, who answered: +“Wouldn’t you like Mrs. van Tuiver to hear a speech? I am to speak next +week at the noon-day Wall Street meeting.” I passed the question on, and +Sylvia answered with an exclamation of delight: “Would a small boy like +to attend a circus?” + +It was arranged that Sylvia was to take us in her car. You may picture +me with my grand friends--an old speckled hen in the company of two +golden pheasants. I kept very quiet and let them get acquainted, knowing +that my cause was safe in the hands of one so perfectly tailored as Mrs. +Frothingham. + +Sylvia expressed her delight at the idea of hearing a Socialist speech, +and her amazement that the head of Mrs. Frothingham’s should be so +courageous, and meantime we threaded our way through the tangle of +trucks and surface-cars on Broadway, and came to the corner of Wall +Street. Here Mrs. Frothingham said she would get out and walk; it was +quite likely that someone might recognise Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, and +she ought not to be seen arriving with the speaker. Sylvia, who +would not willingly have committed a breach of etiquette towards a +bomb-throwing anarchist, protested at this, but Mrs. Frothingham laughed +good-naturedly, saying that it would be time enough for Mrs. van Tuiver +to commit herself when she knew what she believed. + +The speaking was to be from the steps of the Sub-treasury. We made +a _détour,_ and came up Broad Street, stopping a little way from the +corner. These meetings had been held all through the summer and fall, so +that people had learned to expect them; although it lacked some minutes +of noon, there was already a crowd gathered. A group of men stood upon +the broad steps, one with a red banner and several others with armfuls +of pamphlets and books. With them was our friend, who looked at us and +smiled, but gave no other sign of recognition. + +Sylvia pushed back the collar of her sable coat, and sat erect in her +shining blue velvet, her eyes and her golden hair shining beneath +the small brim of a soft velvet hat. As she gazed eagerly at the busy +throngs of men hurrying about this busy corner, she whispered to me: “I +haven’t been so excited since my _début_ party!” + +The crowd increased until it was difficult to get through Wall Street. +The bell of Old Trinity was tolling the hour of noon, and the meeting +was about to begin, when suddenly I heard an exclamation from Sylvia, +and turning, saw a well-dressed man pushing his way from the office of +Morgan and Company towards us. Sylvia clutched my hand where it lay on +the seat of the car, and half gasped: “My husband!” + +17. Of course I had been anxious to see Douglas van Tuiver. I had heard +Claire Lepage’s account of him, and Sylvia’s, also I had seen pictures +of him in the newspapers, and had studied them with some care, trying +to imagine what sort of personage he might be. I knew that he was +twenty-four, but the man who came towards us I would have taken to be +forty. His face was sombre, with large features and strongly marked +lines about the mouth; he was tall and thin, and moved with decision, +betraying no emotion even in this moment of surprise. “What are you +doing here?” were his first words. + +For my part, I was badly “rattled”; I knew by the clutch of Sylvia’s +hand that she was too. But here I got a lesson in the nature of “social +training.” Some of the bright colour had faded from her face, but she +spoke with the utmost coolness, the words coming naturally and simply: +“We can’t get through the crowd.” And at the same time she looked about +her, as much as to say: “You can see for yourself.” (One of the maxims +of Lady Dee had set forth that a lady never told a lie if she could +avoid it.) + +Sylvia’s husband looked about, saying: “Why don’t you call an officer?” + He started to follow his own suggestion, and I thought then that my +friend would miss her meeting. But she had more nerve than I imagined. + +“No,” she said. “Please don’t.” + +“Why not?” Still there was no emotion in the cold, grey eyes. + +“Because--I think there’s something going on.” + +“What of that?” + +“I’m not in a hurry, and I’d like to see.” + +He stood for a moment looking at the crowd. Mrs. Frothingham had come +forward, evidently intending to speak. “What is this, Ferris?” he +demanded of the chauffeur. + +“I’m not sure, sir,” said the man. “I think it’s a Socialist meeting.” + (He was, of course, not missing the little comedy. I wondered what he +thought!) + +“A Socialist meeting?” said van Tuiver; then, to his wife: “You don’t +want to stay for that!” + +Again Sylvia astonished me. “I’d like to very much,” she answered +simply. + +He made no reply. I saw him stare at her, and then I saw his glance +take me in. I sat in a corner as inconspicuous as I could make myself. +I wondered whether I was a sempstress or a tutor, and whether either +of these functionaries were introduced, and whether they shook hands or +not. + +Mrs. Frothingham had taken her stand at the base of Washington’s statue. +Had she by any chance identified the tall and immaculate gentleman who +stood beside the automobile? Before she had said three sentences I made +sure that she had done so, and I was appalled at her audacity. + +“Fellow citizens,” she began--“fellow-buccaneers of Wall Street.” And +when the mild laughter had subsided: “What I have to say is going to +be addressed to one individual among you--the American millionaire. +I assume there is one present--if no actual millionaire, then surely +several who are destined to be, and not less than a thousand who aspire +to be. So hear me, Mr. Millionaire,” this with a smile, which gave you +a sense of a reserve fund of energy and good humour. She had the +crowd with her from the start--all but one. I stole a glance at the +millionaire, and saw that he was not smiling. + +“Won’t you get in?” asked his wife, and he answered coldly: “No, I’ll +wait till you’ve had enough.” + +“Last summer I had a curious experience,” said the speaker. “I was +a guest at a tennis match, played upon the grounds of a State +insane-asylum, the players being the doctors of the institution. Here, +on a beautiful sunshiny afternoon, were ladies and gentlemen clad in +festive white, enjoying a holiday, while in the background stood a +frowning building with iron-barred gates and windows, from which +one heard now and then the howlings of the maniacs. Some of the less +fortunate of these victims of fate had been let loose, and while we +played tennis, they chased the balls. All afternoon, while I sipped tea +and chatted and watched the games, I said to myself: ‘Here is the most +perfect simile of our civilization that has ever come to me. Some people +wear white and play tennis all day, while other people chase the balls, +or howl in dungeons in the background!’ And that is the problem I wish +to put before my American millionaire--the problem of what I will call +our lunatic-asylum stage of civilization. Mind you, this condition +is all very well so long as we can say that the lunatics are +incurable--that there is nothing we can do but shut our ears to their +howling, and go ahead with our tennis. But suppose the idea were to +dawn upon us that it is only because we played tennis all day that the +lunatic-asylum is crowded, then might not the howls grow unendurable to +us, and the game lose its charm?” + +Stealing glances about me, I saw that several people were watching the +forty-or-fifty-times-over millionaire; they had evidently recognised +him, and were enjoying the joke. “Haven’t you had enough of this?” he +suddenly demanded of his wife, and she answered, guilelessly: “No, let’s +wait. I’m interested.” + +“Now, listen to me, Mr. American Millionaire,” the speaker was +continuing. “You are the one who plays tennis, and we, who chase the +balls for you--we are the lunatics. And my purpose to-day is to prove +to you that it is only because you play tennis all day that we have +to chase balls all the day, and to tell you that some time soon we are +going to cease to be lunatics, and that then you will have to chase your +own balls! And don’t, in your amusement over this illustration, lose +sight of the serious nature of what I am talking about--the horrible +economic lunacy which is known as poverty, and which is responsible +for most of the evils we have in this world to-day--for crime and +prostitution, suicide, insanity and war. My purpose is to show you, not +by any guess of mine, or any appeals to your faith, but by cold business +facts which can be understood in Wall Street, that this economic lunacy +is one which can be cured; that we have the remedy in our hands, and +lack nothing but the intelligence to apply it.” + +18. I do not want to bore you with a Socialist speech. I only want to +give you an idea of the trap into which Mr. Douglas van Tuiver had +been drawn. He stood there, rigidly aloof while the speaker went on +to explain the basic facts of wealth-production in modern society. She +quoted from Kropotkin: “‘Fields, Factories and Work-shops,’ on sale +at this meeting for a quarter!”--showing how by modern intensive +farming--no matter of theory, but methods which were in commercial +use in hundreds of places--it would be possible to feed the entire +population of the globe from the soil of the British Isles alone. She +showed by the bulletins of the United States Government how the machine +process had increased the productive power of the individual labourer +ten, twenty, a hundred fold. So vast was man’s power of producing wealth +today, and yet the labourer lived in dire want just as in the days of +crude hand-industry! + +So she came back to her millionaire, upon whom this evil rested. He was +the master of the machine for whose profit the labourer had to produce. +He could only employ the labourer to produce what could be sold at a +profit; and so the stream of prosperity was choked at its source. “It +is you, Mr. Millionaire, who are to blame for poverty; it is because +so many millions of dollars must be paid to you in profits that so +many millions of men must live in want. In other words, precisely as I +declared at the outset, it is your playing tennis which is responsible +for the lunatics chasing the balls!” + +I wish that I might give some sense of the speaker’s mastery of this +situation, the extent to which she had communicated her good-humour to +the crowd. You heard ripple after ripple of laughter, you saw everywhere +about you eager faces, following every turn of the argument. No +one could resist the contagion of interest--save only the American +millionaire! He stood impassive, never once smiling, never once +betraying a trace of feeling. Venturing to watch him more closely, +however, I could see the stern lines deepening about his mouth, and his +long, lean face growing more set. + +The speaker had outlined the remedy--a change from the system of +production for profit to one of production for use. She went on to +explain how the change was coming; the lunatic classes were beginning +to doubt the divine nature of the rules of the asylum, and they were +preparing to mutiny, and take possession of the place. And here I saw +that Sylvia’s husband had reached his limit. He turned to her: “Haven’t +you had enough of this?” + +“Why, no,” she began. “If you don’t mind--” + +“I do mind very much,” he said, abruptly. “I think you are committing +a breach of taste to stay here, and I would be greatly obliged if you +would leave.” + +And without really waiting for Sylvia’s reply, he directed, “Back out of +here, Ferris.” + +The chauffeur cranked up, and sounded his horn--which naturally had the +effect of disturbing the meeting. People supposed we were going to try +to get through the crowd ahead--and there was no place where anyone +could move. But van Tuiver went to the rear of the car, saying, in a +voice of quiet authority: “A little room here, please.” And so, foot by +foot, we backed away from the meeting, and when we had got clear of the +throng, the master of the car stepped in, and we turned and made our way +down Broad Street. + +And now I was to get a lesson in the aristocratic ideal. Of course van +Tuiver was angry; I believe he even suspected his wife of having known +of the meeting. I supposed he would ask some questions; I supposed that +at least he would express his opinion of the speech, his disgust that +a woman of education should make such a spectacle of herself. Such +husbands as I had been familiar with had never hesitated to vent their +feelings under such circumstances. But from Douglas van Tuiver there +came--not a word! He sat, perfectly straight, staring before him, like +a sphinx; and Sylvia, after one or two swift glances at him, began to +gossip cheerfully about her plans for the day-nursery for working-women! + +So for a few blocks, until suddenly she leaned forward. “Stop here, +Ferris.” And then, turning to me, “Here is the American Trust Company.” + +“The American Trust Company?” I echoed, in my dumb stupidity. + +“Yes--that is where the check is payable,” said Sylvia, and gave me a +pinch. + +And so I comprehended, and gathered up my belongings and got out. She +shook my hand warmly, and her husband raised his hat in a very formal +salute, after which the car sped on up the street. I stood staring after +it, in somewhat the state of mind of any humble rustic who may have been +present when Elijah was borne into the heavens by the chariot of fire! + +19. Sylvia had been something less than polite to me; and so I had not +been home more than an hour before there came a messenger-boy with a +note. By way of reassuring her, I promised to come to see her the next +morning; and when I did, and saw her lovely face so full of concern, I +forgot entirely her worldly greatness, and did what I had longed to do +from the beginning--put my arms about her and kissed her. + +“My dear girl,” I protested, “I don’t want to be a burden in your +life--I want to help you!’” + +“But,” she exclaimed, “what must you have thought--” + +“I thought I had made a lucky escape!” I laughed. + +She was proud--proud as an Indian; it was hard for her to make +admissions about her husband. But then--we were like two errant +school-girls, who had been caught m an escapade! “I don’t know what I’m +going to do about him,” she said, with a wry smile. “He really won’t +listen--I can’t make any impression on him.” + +“Did he guess that you’d come there on purpose?” I asked. + +“I told him,” she answered. + +“You _told_ him!” + +“I’d meant to keep it secret--I wouldn’t have minded telling him a fib +about a little thing. But he made it so very serious!” + +I could understand that it must have been serious after the telling. I +waited for her to add what news she chose. + +“It seems,” she said, “that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs. +Frothingham’s. You can imagine!” + +“I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil.” + +“No; my husband says his Uncle Archibald always was a fool. But how can +anyone be so narrow! He seemed to take Mrs. Frothingham as a personal +affront.” + +This was the most definite bit of vexation against her husband that she +had ever let me see. I decided to turn it into a jest. “Mrs. Frothingham +will be glad to know she was understood,” I said. + +“But seriously, why can’t men have open minds about politics and money?” + She went on in a worried voice: “I knew he was like this when I met +him at Harvard. He was living in his own house, aloof from the poorer +men--the men who were most worth while, it seemed to me. And when I +told him of the bad effect he was having on these men and on his own +character as well, he said he would do whatever I asked--he even gave +up his house and went to live in a dormitory. So I thought I had some +influence on him. But now, here is the same thing again, only I find +that one can’t take a stand against one’s husband. At least, he doesn’t +admit the right.” She hesitated. “It doesn’t seem loyal to talk about +it.” + +“My dear girl,” I said with an impulse of candour, “there isn’t much you +can tell me about that problem. My own marriage went to pieces on that +rock.” + +I saw a look of surprise upon her face. “I haven’t told you my story +yet,” I said. “Some day I will--when you feel you know me well enough +for us to exchange confidences.” + +There was more than a hint of invitation in this. After a silence, she +said: “One’s instinct is to hide one’s troubles.” + +“Sylvia,” I answered, “let me tell you about us. You must realise that +you’ve been a wonderful person to me; you belong to a world I never had +anything to do with, and never expected to get a glimpse of. It’s the +wickedness of our class-civilization that human beings can’t be just +human beings to each other--a king can hardly have a friend. Even after +I’ve overcome the impulse I have to be awed by your luxury and your +grandness; I’m conscious of the fact that everybody else is awed by +them. If I so much as mention that I’ve met you, I see people start and +stare at me--instantly I become a personage. It makes me angry, because +I want to know _you_.” + +She was gazing at me, not saying a word. I went on: “I’d never have +thought it possible for anyone to be in your position and be real and +straight and human, but I realise that you have managed to work that +miracle. So I want to love you and help you, in every way I know how. +But you must understand, I can’t ask for your confidence, as I could for +any other woman’s. There is too much vulgar curiosity about the rich and +great, and I can’t pretend to be unaware of that hatefulness; I can’t +help shrinking from it. So all I can say is--if you need me, if you ever +need a real friend, why, here I am; you may be sure I understand, and +won’t tell your secrets to anyone else.” + +With a little mist of tears in her eyes, Sylvia put out her hand and +touched mine. And so we went into a chamber alone together, and shut the +cold and suspicious world outside. + +20. We knew each other well enough now to discuss the topic which has +been the favourite of women since we sat in the doorways of caves and +pounded wild grain in stone mortars--the question of our lords, who had +gone hunting, and who might be pleased to beat us on their return. +I learned all that Sylvia had been taught on the subject of the male +animal; I opened that amazing unwritten volume of woman traditions, the +maxims of Lady Dee Lysle. + +Sylvia’s maternal great-aunt had been a great lady out of a great +age, and incidentally a grim and grizzled veteran of the sex-war. Her +philosophy started from a recognition of the physical and economic +inferiority of woman, as complete as any window-smashing suffragette +could have formulated, but her remedy for it was a purely individualist +one, the leisure-class woman’s skill in trading upon her sex. Lady Dee +did not use that word, of course--she would as soon have talked of her +esophagus. Her formula was “charm,” and she had taught Sylvia that the +preservation of “charm” was the end of woman’s existence, the thing by +which she remained a lady, and without which she was more contemptible +than the beasts. + +She had taught this, not merely by example and casual anecdote, but by +precepts as solemnly expounded as bible-texts. “Remember, my dear, a +woman with a husband is like a lion-tamer with a whip!” And the old lady +would explain what a hard and dangerous life was lived by lion-tamers, +how their safety depended upon life-long distrustfulness of the +creatures over whom they ruled. She would tell stories of the rending +and maiming of luckless ones, who had forgotten for a brief moment the +nature of the male animal! “Yes, my dear,” she would say, “believe +in love; but let the man believe first!” Her maxims never sinned by +verbosity. + +The end of all this was not merely food and shelter, a home and +children, it was the supremacy of a sex, its ability to shape life to +its whim. By means of this magic “charm”--a sort of perpetual individual +sex-strike--a woman turned her handicaps into advantages and her chains +into ornaments; she made herself a rare and wonderful creature, up to +whom men gazed in awe. It was “romantic love,” but preserved throughout +life, instead of ceasing with courtship. + +All the Castleman women understood these arts, and employed them. There +was Aunt Nannie, when she cracked her whip the dear old bishop-lion +would jump as if he had been shot! Did not the whole State know the +story of how once he had been called upon at a banquet and had risen and +remarked: “Ladies and gentlemen, I had intended to make a speech to you +this evening, but I see that my wife is present, so I must beg you to +excuse me.” The audience roared, and Aunt Nannie was furious, but poor +dear Bishop Chilton had spoken but the literal truth, that he could not +spread the wings of his eloquence in the presence of his “better half.” + +And with Major Castleman, though it seemed different, it was really +the same. Sylvia’s mother had let herself get stout--which seemed a +dangerous mark of confidence in the male animal. But the major was +fifteen years older than his wife, and she had a weak heart with which +to intimidate him. Now and then the wilfulness of Castleman Lysle would +become unendurable in the house, and his father would seize him and turn +him over his knee. His screams would bring “Miss Margaret” flying to the +rescue: “Major Castleman, how dare you spank one of _my_ children?” And +she would seize the boy and march off in terrible haughtiness, and lock +herself and her child in her room, and for hours afterwards the poor +major would wander about the house, suffering the lonelines of the +guilty soul. You would hear him tapping gently at his lady’s door. +“Honey! Honey! Are you mad with me?” “Major Castleman,” the stately +answer would come, “will you oblige me by leaving one room in this house +to which I may retire?” + +21. I would give you a wrong idea of Sylvia if I did not make clear that +along with this sophistication as to the play-aspects of sex, there +went the most incredible ignorance as to its practical realities. In my +arguments I had thought to appeal to her by referring to that feature of +wage-slavery which more than even child-labour stirs the moral sense of +women, but to my utter consternation I discovered that here was a +woman nearly a year married who did not know what prostitution was. A +suspicion had begun to dawn upon her, and she asked me, timidly: Could +it be possible that that intimacy which was given in marriage could +become a thing of barter in the market-place? When I told her the truth, +I found her horror so great that it was impossible to go on talking +economics. How could I say that women were driven to such things by +poverty? Surely a woman who was not bad at heart would starve, before +she would sell her body to a man! + +Perhaps I should have been more patient with her, but I am bitter on +these subjects. “My dear Mrs. van Tuiver,” I said, “there is a lot of +nonsense talked about this matter. There is very little sex-life for +women without a money-price made clear in advance.” + +“I don’t understand,” she said. + +“I don’t know about your case,” I replied, “but when I married, it was +because I was unhappy and wanted a home of my own. And if the truth were +told, that is why most women marry.” + +“But what has THAT to do with it?” she cried. She really did not see! + +“What is the difference--except that such women stand out for a +maintenance, while the prostitute takes cash?” I saw that I had shocked +her, and I said: “You must be humble about these things, because you +have never been poor, and you cannot judge those who have been. But +surely you must have known worldly women who married rich men for their +money. And surely you admit that that is prostitution?” + +She fell suddenly silent, and I saw what I had done, and, no doubt, you +will say I should have been ashamed of myself. But when one has seen as +much of misery and injustice as I have, one cannot be so patient with +the fine artificial delicacies and sentimentalities of the idle rich. I +went ahead to tell her some stories, showing her what poverty actually +meant to women. + +Then, as she remained silent, I asked her how she had managed to remain +so ignorant. Surely she must have met with the word “prostitution” in +books; she must have heard allusions to the “demi-monde.” + +“Of course,” she said, “I used to see conspicuous-looking women at the +race-track in New Orleans; I’ve sat near them in restaurants, I’ve known +by my mother’s looks and her agitation that they must be bad women. But +you see, I didn’t know what it meant--I had nothing but a vague feeling +of something dreadful.” + +I smiled. “Then Lady Dee did not tell you everything about the +possibilities of her system of ‘charm.’” + +“No,” said Sylvia. “Evidently she didn’t!” She sat staring at me, trying +to get up the courage to go on with this plain speaking. + +And at last the courage came. “I think it is wrong,” she exclaimed. +“Girls ought not to be kept so ignorant! They ought to know what such +things mean. Why, I didn’t even know what marriage meant!” + +“Can that be true?” I asked. + +“All my life I had thought of marriage, in a way; I had been trained to +think of it with every eligible man I met--but to me it meant a home, a +place of my own to entertain people in. I pictured myself going driving +with my husband, giving dinner-parties to his friends. I knew I’d have +to let him kiss me, but beyond that--I had a vague idea of something, +but I didn’t think. I had been deliberately trained not to let myself +think--to run away from every image that came to me. And I went on +dreaming of what I’d wear, and how I’d greet my husband when he came +home in the evening.” + +“Didn’t you think about children?” + +“Yes--but I thought of the CHILDREN. I thought what they’d look like, +and how they’d talk, and how I’d love them. I don’t know if many young +girls shut their minds up like that.” + +She was speaking with agitation, and I was gazing into her eyes, reading +more than she knew I was reading. I was nearer to solving the problem +that had been baffling me. And I wanted to take her hands in mine, and +say: “You would never have married him if you’d understood!” + +22. Sylvia thought she ought to have been taught, but when she came to +think of it she was unable to suggest who could have done the +teaching. “Your mother?” I asked, and she had to laugh, in spite of the +seriousness of her mood. “Poor dear mamma! When they sent me up here to +boarding school, she took me off and tried to tell me not to listen to +vulgar talk from the girls. She managed to make it clear that I mustn’t +listen to something, and I managed not to listen. I’m sure that even +now she would rather have her tongue cut out than talk to me about such +things.” + +“I talked to my children,” I assured her. + +“And you didn’t feel embarrassed?” + +“I did in the beginning--I had the same shrinkings to overcome. But I +had a tragedy behind me to push me on.” + +I told her the story of my nephew, a shy and sensitive lad, who used to +come to me for consolation, and became as dear to me as my own children. +When he was seventeen he grew moody and despondent; he ran away from +home for six months and more, and then returned and was forgiven--but +that seemed to make no difference. One night he came to see me, and I +tried hard to get him to tell me what was wrong. He wouldn’t, but went +away, and several hours later I found a letter he had shoved under the +table-cloth. I read it, and rushed out and hitched up a horse and drove +like mad to my brother-in-law’s, but I got there too late, the poor boy +had taken a shot-gun to his room, and put the muzzle into his mouth, and +set off the trigger with his foot. In the letter he told me what was the +matter--he had got into trouble with a woman of the town, and had caught +syphilis. He had gone away and tried to get cured, but had fallen into +the hands of a quack, who had taken all his money and left his health +worse than ever, so in despair and shame the poor boy had shot his head +off. + +I paused, uncertain if Sylvia would understand the story. “Do you know +what syphilis is?” I asked. + +“I suppose--I have heard of what we call a ‘bad disease’” she said. + +“It’s a very bad disease. But if the words convey to you that it’s a +disease that bad people get, I should tell you that most men take the +chance of getting it; yet they are cruel enough to despise those upon +whom the ill-luck falls. My poor nephew had been utterly ignorant--I +found out that from his father, too late. An instinct had awakened in +him of which he knew absolutely nothing; his companions had taught him +what it meant, and he had followed their lead. And then had come the +horror and the shame--and some vile, ignorant wretch to trade upon it, +and cast the boy off when he was penniless. So he had come home again, +with his gnawing secret; I pictured him wandering about, trying to make +up his mind to confide in me, wavering between that and the horrible +deed he did.” + +I stopped, because even to this day I cannot tell the story without +tears. I cannot keep a picture of the boy in my room, because of the +self-reproaches that haunt me. “You can understand,” I said to Sylvia, +“I never could forget such a lesson. I swore a vow over the poor lad’s +body, that I would never let a boy or girl that I could reach go out in +ignorance into the world. I read up on the subject, and for a while I +was a sort of fanatic--I made people talk, young people and old people. +I broke down the taboos wherever I went, and while I shocked a good +many, I knew that I helped a good many more.” + +All that was, of course, inconceivable to Sylvia. How curious was the +contrast of her one experience in the matter of venereal disease. She +told me how she had been instrumental in making a match between her +friend, Harriet Atkinson and a young scion of an ancient and haughty +family of Charleston, and how after the marriage her friend’s health had +begun to give way, until now she was an utter wreck, living alone in a +dilapidated antebellum mansion, seeing no one but negro servants, and +praying for death to relieve her of her misery. + +“Of course, I don’t really know,” said Sylvia. “Perhaps it was +this--this disease that you speak of. None of my people would tell me--I +doubt if they really know themselves. It was just before my own wedding, +so you can understand it had a painful effect upon me. It happened that +I read something in a magazine, and I thought that--that possibly my +fiancée--that someone ought to ask him, you understand--” + +She stopped, and the blood was crimson in her cheeks, with the memory +of her old excitement, and some fresh excitement added to it. There are +diseases of the mind as well as of the body, and one of them is called +prudery. + +“I can understand,” I said. “It was certainly your right to be reassured +on such a point.” + +“Well, I tried to talk to my Aunt Varina about it; then I wrote to Uncle +Basil, and asked him to write to Douglas. At first he refused--he only +consented to do it when I threatened to go to my father.” + +“What came of it in the end?” + +“Why, my uncle wrote, and Douglas answered very kindly that he +understood, and that it was all right--I had nothing to fear. I never +expected to mention the incident to anyone again.” + +“Lots of people have mentioned such things to me,” I responded, to +reassure her. Then after a pause: “Tell me, how was it, if you didn’t +know the meaning of marriage, how could you connect the disease with +it?” + +She answered, gazing with the wide-open, innocent eyes: “I had no +idea how people gave it to each other. I thought maybe they got it by +kissing.” + +I thought to myself again: The horror of this superstition of prudery! +Can one think of anything more destructive to life than the placing of +a taboo upon such matters? Here is the whole of the future at stake--the +health, the sanity, the very existence of the race. And what fiend has +been able to contrive it that we feel like criminals when we mention the +subject? + +23. Our intimacy progressed, and the time came when Sylvia told me about +her marriage. She had accepted Douglas van Tuiver because she had lost +Frank Shirley, and her heart was broken. She could never imagine herself +loving any other man; and not knowing exactly what marriage meant, it +had been easier for her to think of her family, and to follow their +guidance. They had told her that love would come; Douglas had implored +her to give him a chance to teach her to love him. She had considered +what she could do with his money--both for her home-people and for those +she spoke of vaguely as “the poor.” But now she was making the discovery +that she could not do very much for these “poor.” + +“It isn’t that my husband is mean,” she said. “On the contrary, the +slightest hint will bring me any worldly thing I want. I have homes in +half a dozen parts of America--I have _carte blanche_ to open accounts +in two hemispheres. If any of my people need money I can get it; but if +I want it for myself, he asks me what I’m doing with it--and so I run +into the stone-wall of his ideas.” + +At first the colliding with this wall had merely pained and bewildered +her. But now the combination of Veblen and myself had helped her +to realize what it meant. Douglas van Tuiver spent his money upon +a definite system: whatever went to the maintaining of his social +position, whatever added to the glory, prestige and power of the van +Tuiver name--that money was well-spent; while money spent to any other +end was money wasted--and this included all ideas and “causes.” And +when the master of the house knew that his money was being wasted, it +troubled him. + +“It wasn’t until after I married him that I realized how idle his life +is,” she remarked. “At home all the men have something to do, running +their plantations, or getting elected to some office. But Douglas never +does anything that I can possibly think is useful.” + +His fortune was invested in New York City real-estate, she went on to +explain. There was an office, with a small army of clerks and agents to +attend to it--a machine which had been built up and handed on to him by +his ancestors. It sufficed if he dropped in for an hour or two once a +week when he was in the city, and signed a batch of documents now and +then when he was away. His life was spent in the company of people whom +the social system had similarly deprived of duties; and they had, by +generations of experiment, built up for themselves a new set of duties, +a life which was wholly without relationship to reality. Into this +unreal existence Sylvia had married, and it was like a current sweeping +her in its course. So long as she went with it, all was well; but let +her try to catch hold of something and stop, and it would tear her loose +and almost strangle her. + +As time went on, she gave me strange glimpses into this world. Her +husband did not seem really to enjoy its life. As Sylvia put it, “He +takes it for granted that he has to do all the proper things that the +proper people do. He hates to be conspicuous, he says. I point out to +him that the proper things are nearly always conspicuous, but he replies +that to fail to do them would be even more conspicuous.” + +It took me a long time to get really acquainted with Sylvia, because of +the extent to which this world was clamouring for her. I used to drop in +when she ‘phoned me she had half an hour. I would find her dressing for +something, and she would send her maid away, and we would talk until +she would be late for some function; and that might be a serious matter, +because somebody would feel slighted. She was always “on pins and +needles” over such questions of precedent; it seemed as if everybody in +her world must be watching everybody else. There was a whole elaborate +science of how to treat the people you met, so that they would not +feel slighted--or so that they would feel slighted, according to +circumstances. + +To the enjoyment of such a life it was essential that the person +should believe in it. Douglas van Tuiver did believe in it; it was his +religion, the only one he had. (Churchman as he was, his church was +a part of the social routine.) He was proud of Sylvia, and apparently +satisfied when he could take her at his side; and Sylvia went, because +she was his wife, and that was what wives were for. She had tried her +best to be happy; she had told herself that she _was_ happy yet all the +time realizing that a woman who is really happy does not have to tell +herself. + +Earlier in life she had quaffed and enjoyed the wine of applause. I +recollect vividly her telling me of the lure her beauty had been to +her--the most terrible temptation that could come to a woman. “I walk +into a brilliant room, and I feel the thrill of admiration that +goes through the crowd. I have a sudden sense of my own physical +perfection--a glow all over me! I draw a deep breath--I feel a surge of +exaltation. I say, ‘I am victorious--I can command! I have this supreme +crown of womanly grace--I am all-powerful with it--the world is mine!’” + +As she spoke the rapture was in her voice, and I looked at her--and yes, +she was beautiful! The supreme crown was hers! + +“I see other beautiful women,” she went on--and swift anger came into +her voice. “I see what they are doing with this power! Gratifying their +vanity--turning men into slaves of their whim! Squandering money upon +empty pleasures--and with the dreadful plague of poverty spreading in +the world! I used to go to my father, ‘Oh, papa, why must there be so +many poor people? Why should we have servants--why should they have to +wait on me, and I do nothing for them?’ He would try to explain to me +that it was the way of Nature. Mamma would tell me it was the will +of the Lord--‘The poor ye have always with you’--‘Servants, obey your +masters’--and so on. But in spite of the Bible texts, I felt guilty. And +now I come to Douglas with the same plea--and it only makes him angry! +He has been to college and has a lot of scientific phrases--he tells me +it’s ‘the struggle for existence,’ ‘the elimination of the unfit’--and +so on. I say to him, ‘First we make people unfit, and then we have to +eliminate them.’ He cannot see why I do not accept what learned people +tell me--why I persist in questioning and suffering.” + +She paused, and then added, “It’s as if he were afraid I might find out +something he doesn’t want me to! He’s made me give him a promise that I +won’t see Mrs. Frothingham again!” And she laughed. “I haven’t told him +about you!” + +I answered, needless to say, that I hoped she would keep the secret! + +24. All this time I was busy with my child-labour work. We had an +important bill before the legislature that session, and I was doing what +I could to work up sentiment for it. I talked at every gathering where I +could get a hearing; I wrote letters to newspapers; I sent literature to +lists of names. I racked my mind for new schemes, and naturally, at such +times, I could not help thinking of Sylvia. How much she could do, if +only she would! + +I spared no one, least of all myself, and so it was not easy to spare +her. The fact that I had met her was the gossip of the office, and +everybody was waiting for something to happen. “How about Mrs. van +Tuiver?” my “chief” would ask, at intervals. “If she would _only_ go on +our press committee” my stenographer would sigh. + +The time came when our bill was in committee, a place of peril for +bills. I went to Albany to see what could be done. I met half a hundred +legislators, of whom perhaps half-a-dozen had some human interest in my +subject; the rest, well, it was discouraging. Where was the force that +would stir them, make them forget their own particular little grafts, +and serve the public welfare in defiance to hostile interests? + +Where was it? I came back to New York to look for it, and after a blue +luncheon with the members of our committee, I came away with my mind +made up--I would sacrifice my Sylvia to this desperate emergency. + +I knew just what I had to do. So far she had heard speeches about social +wrongs, or read books about them; she had never been face to face with +the reality of them. Now I persuaded her to take a morning off, and see +some of the sights of the underworld of toil. We foreswore the royal +car, and likewise the royal furs and velvets; she garbed herself in +plain appearing dark blue and went down town in the Subway like common +mortals, visiting paper-box factories and flower factories, tenement +homes where whole families sat pasting toys and gimcracks for fourteen +or sixteen hours a day, and still could not buy enough food to make +full-sized men and women of them. + +She was Dante, and I was Virgil, our inferno was an endless procession +of tortured faces--faces of women, haggard and mournful, faces of little +children, starved and stunted, dulled and dumb. Several times we stopped +to talk with these people--one little Jewess girl I knew whose three +tiny sisters had been roasted alive in a sweatshop fire. This child had +jumped from a fourth-story window, and been miraculously caught by a +fireman. She said that some man had started the fire, and been caught, +but the police had let him get away. So I had to explain to Sylvia +that curious bye-product (sic) of the profit system known as the “Arson +Trust.” Authorities estimated that incendiarism was responsible for +the destruction of a quarter of a billion dollars worth of property in +America every year. So, of course, the business of starting fires was +a paying one, and the “fire-bug,” like the “cadet” and the dive-keeper, +was a part of the “system.” So it was quite a possible thing that the +man who had burned up this little girl’s three sisters might have been +allowed to escape. + +I happened to say this in the little girl’s hearing, and I saw +her pitiful strained eyes fixed upon Sylvia. Perhaps this lovely, +soft-voiced lady was a fairy god-mother, come to free her sisters from +an evil spell and to punish the wicked criminal! I saw Sylvia turn her +head away, and search for her handkerchief; as we groped our way down +the dark stairs, she caught my hand, whispering: “Oh, my God! my God!” + +It had even more effect than I had intended; not only did she say that +she would do something--anything that would be of use--but she told me +as we rode back home that her mind was made up to stop the squandering +of her husband’s money. He had been planning a costume ball for a +couple of months later, an event which would keep the van Tuiver name +in condition, and would mean that he and other people would spend many +hundreds of thousands of dollars. As we rode home in the roaring Subway, +Sylvia sat beside me, erect and tense, saying that if the ball were +given, it would be without the presence of the hostess. + +I struck while the iron was hot, and got her permission to put her name +upon our committee list. She said, moreover, that she would get some +free time, and be more than a mere name to us. What were the duties of a +member of our committee? + +“First,” I said, “to know the facts about child-labour, as you have seen +them to-day, and second, to help other people to know.” + +“And how is that to be done?” + +“Well, for instance, there is that hearing before the legislative +committee. You remember I suggested that you appear.” + +“Yes,” she said in a low voice. I could almost hear the words that were +in her mind: “What would _he_ say?” + +25. Sylvia’s name went upon our letter-heads and other literature, and +almost at once things began to happen. In a day or two there came a +reporter, saying he had noticed her name. Was it true that she had +become interested in our work? Would I please give him some particulars, +as the public would naturally want to know. + +I admitted that Mrs. van Tuiver had joined the committee; she approved +of our work and desired to further it. That was all. He asked: Would she +give an interview? And I answered that I was sure she would not. Then +would I tell something about how she had come to be interested in the +work? It was a chance to assist our propaganda, added the reporter, +diplomatically. + +I retired to another room, and got Sylvia upon the ‘phone, “The time has +come for you to take the plunge,” I said. + +“Oh, but I don’t want to be in the papers!” she cried “Surely, you +wouldn’t advise it!” + +“I don’t see how you can avoid having something appear. Your name +is given out, and if the man can’t get anything else, he’ll take our +literature, and write up your doings out of his imagination.” + +“And they’ll print my picture with it!” she exclaimed. I could not help +laughing. “It’s quite possible.” + +“Oh, what will my husband do? He’ll say ‘I told you so!’” + +It is a hard thing to have one’s husband say that, as I knew by bitter +experience. But I did not think that reason enough for giving up. + +“Let me have time to think it over,” said Sylvia. “Get him to wait till +to-morrow, and meantime I can see you.” + +So it was arranged. I think I told Sylvia the truth when I said that I +had never before heard of a committee member who was unwilling to have +his purposes discussed in the newspapers. To influence newspapers was +one of the main purposes of committees, and I did not see how she could +expect either editors or readers to take any other view. + +“Let me tell the man about your trip down town,” I suggested, “then I +can go on to discuss the bill and how it bears on the evils you saw. +Such a statement can’t possibly do you harm.” + +She consented, but with the understanding that she was not to be quoted +directly. “And don’t let them make me picturesque!” she exclaimed. +“That’s what my husband seems most to dread.” + +I wondered if he didn’t think she was picturesque, when she sat in +a splendid, shining coach, and took part in a public parade through +Central Park. But I did not say this. I went off, and swore my reporter +to abstain from the “human touch,” and he promised and kept his word. +There appeared next morning a dignified “write-up” of Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver’s interest in child-labour reform. Quoting me, it described some +of the places she had visited, and some of the sights which had shocked +her; it went on to tell about our committee and its work, the status +of our bill in the legislature, the need of activity on the part of our +friends if the measure was to be forced through at this session. It +was a splendid “boost” for our work, and everyone in the office was in +raptures over it. The social revolution was at hand! thought my young +stenographer. + +But the trouble with this business of publicity is that, however +carefully you control your interviewer, you cannot control the others +who use his material. The “afternoon men” came round for more details, +and they made it clear that it was personal details they wanted. And +when I side-stepped their questions, they went off and made up answers +to suit themselves, and printed Sylvia’s pictures, together with +photographs of child-workers taken from our pamphlets. + +I called Sylvia up while she was dressing for dinner, to explain that I +was not responsible for any of this picturesqueness. “Oh, perhaps I am +to blame myself!” she exclaimed. “I think I interviewed a reporter.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“A woman sent up her card--she told the footman she was a friend of +mine. And I thought--I couldn’t be sure if I’d met her--so I went and +saw her. She said she’d met me at Mrs. Harold Cliveden’s, and she began +to talk to me about child-labour, and this and that plan she had, and +what did I think of them, and suddenly it flashed over me: ‘Maybe this +is a reporter playing a trick on me!’” + +I hurried out before breakfast next morning and got all the papers, +to see what this enterprising lady had done. There was nothing, so I +reflected that probably she had been a “Sunday” lady. + +But then, when I reached my office, the ‘phone rang, and I heard the +voice of Sylvia: “Mary, something perfectly dreadful has happened!” + +“What?” I cried. + +“I can’t tell you over the ‘phone, but a certain person is furiously +angry. Can I see you if I come down right away?” + +26. Such terrors as these were unguessed by me in the days of my +obscurity. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, uneasy also, lies +the wife of that head, and the best friend of the wife. I dismissed my +stenographer, and spent ten or fifteen restless minutes until Sylvia +appeared. + +Her story was quickly told. A couple of hours ago the acting-manager of +Mr. van Tuiver’s office had telephoned to ask if he might call upon a +matter of importance. He had come. Naturally, he had the most extreme +reluctance to say anything which might seem to criticise the activities +of Mr. van Tuiver’s wife, but there was something in the account in +the newspapers which should be brought to her husband’s attention. The +articles gave the names and locations of a number of firms in whose +factories it was alleged that Mrs. van Tuiver had found unsatisfactory +conditions, and it happened that two of these firms were located in +premises which belonged to the van Tuiver estates! + +A story coming very close to melodrama, I perceived. I sat dismayed +at what I had done. “Of course, dear girl,” I said, at last, “you +understand that I had no idea who owned these buildings.” + +“Oh, don’t say that!” exclaimed Sylvia. “I am the one who should have +known!” + +Then for a long time I sat still and let her suffer. “Tenement +sweat-shops! Little children in factories!” I heard her whisper. + +At last I put my hand on hers. “I tried to put it off for a while,” I +said. “But I knew it would have to come.” + +“Think of me!” she exclaimed, “going about scolding other people for the +way they make their money! When I thought of my own, I had visions of +palatial hotels and office-buildings--everything splendid and clean!” + +“Well, my dear, you’ve learned now, and you will be able to do +something--” + +She turned upon me suddenly, and for the first time I saw in her face +the passions of tragedy. “Do you believe I will be able to do anything? +No! Don’t have any such idea!” + +I was struck dumb. She got up and began to pace the room. “Oh, don’t +make any mistake, I’ve paid for my great marriage in the last hour or +two. To think that he cares about nothing save the possibility of being +found out and made ridiculous! All his friends have been ‘muckraked,’ as +he calls it, and he has sat aloft and smiled over their plight; he was +the landed gentleman, the true aristrocrat, whom the worries of traders +and money-changers didn’t concern. Now perhaps he’s caught, and his +name is to be dragged in the mire, and it’s my flightiness, my lack of +commonsense that has done it!” + +“I shouldn’t let that trouble me,” I said. “You could not know--” + +“Oh, it’s not that! It’s that I hadn’t a single courageous word to say +to him--not a hint that he ought to refuse to wring blood-money from +sweat-shops! I came away without having done it, because I couldn’t face +his anger, because it would have meant a quarrel!” + +“My dear,” I said gently, “it is possible to survive a quarrel.” + +“No, you don’t understand! We should never make it up again, I know--I +saw it in his words, in his face. He will never change to please me, +no, not even a simple thing like the business-methods of the van Tuiver +estates.” + +I could not help smiling. “My dear Sylvia! A simple thing!” + +She came and sat beside me. “That’s what I want to talk about. It is +time I was growing up. It it time that I knew about these things. Tell +me about them.” + +“What, my dear?” + +“About the methods of the van Tuiver estates, that can’t be changed to +please me. I made out one thing, we had recently paid a fine for some +infraction of the law in one of those buildings, and my husband said +it was because we had refused to pay more money to a tenement-house +inspector. I asked him: ‘Why should we pay any money at all to a +tenement-house inspector? Isn’t it bribery?’ He answered: ‘It’s a +custom--the same as you give a tip to a hotel waiter.’ Is that true?” + +I could not help smiling. “Your husband ought to know, my dear,” I said. + +I saw her compress her lips. “What is the tip for?” + +“I suppose it is to keep out of trouble with him.” + +“But why can’t we keep out of trouble by obeying the law?” + +“My dear, sometimes the law is inconvenient, and sometimes it is +complicated and obscure. It might be that you are violating it without +knowing the fact. It might be uncertain whether you are violating it +or not, so that to settle the question would mean a lot of expense and +publicity. It might even be that the law is impossible to obey--that it +was not intended to be obeyed.” + +“What do you mean by that?” + +“I mean, maybe it was passed to put you at the mercy of the +politicians.” + +“But,” she protested, “that would be blackmail.” + +“The phrase,” I replied, “is ‘strike-legislation.’” + +“But at least, that wouldn’t be our fault!” + +“No, not unless you had begun it. It generally happens that the landlord +discovers it’s a good thing to have politicians who will work with him. +Maybe he wants his assessments lowered; maybe he wants to know where new +car lines are to go, so that he can buy intelligently; maybe he wants +the city to improve his neighbourhood; maybe he wants influence at court +when he has some heavy damage suit.” + +“So we bribe everyone!” + +“Not necessarily. You may simply wait until campaign-time, and then make +your contribution to the machine. That is the basis of the ‘System.’.” + +“The ‘System ‘?” + +“A semi-criminal police-force, and everything that pays tribute to it; +the saloon and the dive, the gambling hell the white-slave market, and +the Arson trust.” + +I saw a wild look in her eyes. “Tell me, do you _know_ that all these +things are true? Or are you only guessing about them?” + +“My dear Sylvia,” I answered, “you said it was time you grew up. For the +present I will tell you this: Several months before I met you, I made +a speech in which I named some of the organised forces of evil in the +city. One was Tammany Hall, and another was the Traction Trust, and +another was the Trinity Church Corporation, and yet another was the van +Tuiver estates.” + +27. The following Sunday there appeared a “magazine story” of an +interview with the infinitely beautiful young wife of the infinitely +rich Mr. Douglas van Tuiver, in which the views of the wife on the +subject of child-labour were liberally interlarded with descriptions +of her reception-room and her morning-gown. But mere picturesqueness by +that time had been pretty well discounted in our minds. So long as +the article did not say anything about the ownership of child-labour +tenements! + +I did not see Sylvia for several weeks after that. I took it for granted +that she would want some time to get herself together and make up her +mind about the future. I did not feel anxious; the seed had sprouted, +and I felt sure it would continue to grow. + +Then one day she called me up, asking if I could come to see her. I +suggested that afternoon, and she said she was having tea with some +people at the Palace Hotel, and could I come there just after tea-time? +I remember the place and the hour, because of the curious adventure into +which I got myself. One hears the saying, when unexpected encounters +take place, “How small the world is!” But I thought the world was +growing really too small when I went into a hotel tea-room to wait for +Sylvia, and found myself face to face with Claire Lepage! + +The place appointed had been the “orange-room”; I stood in the door-way, +sweeping the place with my eyes, and I saw Mrs. van Tuiver at the same +moment that she saw me. She was sitting at a table with several other +people and she nodded, and I took a seat to wait. From my position I +could watch her, in animated conversation; and she could send me a smile +now and then. So I was decidedly startled when I heard a voice, “Why, +how do you do?” and looked up and saw Claire holding out her hand to me. + +“Well, for heaven’s sake!” I exclaimed. + +“You don’t come to see me any more,” she said. + +“Why, no--no, I’ve been busy of late.” So much I managed to ejaculate, +in spite of my confusion. + +“You seem surprised to see me,” she remarked--observant as usual, and +sensitive to other people’s attitude to her. + +“Why, naturally,” I said. And then, recollecting that it was not in the +least natural--since she spent a good deal of her time in such places--I +added, “I was looking for someone else.” + +“May I do in the meantime?” she inquired, taking a seat beside me. “What +are you so busy about?” + +“My child-labour work,” I answered. Then, in an instant, I was sorry for +the words, thinking she must have read about Sylvia’s activities. I did +not want her to know that I had met Sylvia, for it would mean a flood of +questions, which I did not want to answer--nor yet to refuse to answer. + +But my fear was needless. “I’ve been out of town,” she said. + +“Whereabouts?” I asked, making conversation. + +“A little trip to Bermuda.” + +My mind was busy with the problem of getting rid of her. It would be +intolerable to have Sylvia come up to us; it was intolerable to know +that they were in sight of each other. + +Even as the thought came to me, however, I saw Claire start. “Look!” she +exclaimed. + +“What is it?” + +“That woman there--in the green velvet! The fourth table.” + +“I see her.” + +“Do you know who she is?” + +“Who?” (I remembered Lady Dee’s maxim about lying!) + +“Sylvia Castleman!” whispered Claire. (She always referred to her +thus--seeming to say, “I’m as much van Tuiver as she is!”) + +“Are you sure?” I asked--in order to say something. + +“I’ve seen her a score of times. I seem to be always running into her. +That’s Freddie Atkins she’s talking to.” + +“Indeed!” said I. + +“I know most of the men I see her with. But I have to walk by as if I’d +never seen them. A queer world we live in, isn’t it?” + +I could assent cordially to that proposition. “Listen,” I broke in, +quickly. “Have you got anything to do? If not, come down to the Royalty +and have tea with me.” + +“Why not have it here?” + +“I’ve been waiting for someone from there, and I have to leave a +message. Then I’ll be free.” + +She rose, to my vast relief, and we walked out. I could feel Sylvia’s +eyes following me; but I dared not try to send her a message--I would +have to make up some explanation afterwards. “Who was your well-dressed +friend?” I could imagine her asking; but my mind was more concerned with +the vision of what would happen if, in full sight of her companion, Mr. +Freddie Atkins, she were to rise and walk over to Claire and myself! + +28. Seated in the palm-room of the other hotel, I sipped a cup of +tea which I felt I had earned, while Claire had a little glass of the +fancy-coloured liquids which the ladies in these places affect. The room +was an aviary, with tropical plants and splashing fountains--and birds +of many gorgeous hues; I gazed from one to another of the splendid +creatures, wondering how many of them were paying for their plumage +in the same way as my present companion. It would have taken a more +practiced eye than mine to say which, for if I had been asked, I +would have taken Claire for a diplomat’s wife. She had not less than a +thousand dollars’ worth of raiment upon her, and its style made clear to +all the world the fact that it had not been saved over from a previous +season of prosperity. She was a fine creature, who could carry any +amount of sail; with her bold, black eyes she looked thoroughly +competent, and it was hard to believe in the fundamental softness of her +character. + +I sat, looking about me, annoyed at having missed Sylvia, and only half +listening to Claire. But suddenly she brought me to attention. “Well,” + she said, “I’ve met him.” + +“Met whom?” + +“Douglas.” + +I stared at her. “Douglas van Tuiver?” + +She nodded; and I suppressed a cry. + +“I told you he’d come back,” she added, with a laugh. + +“You mean he came to see you?” + +I could not hide my concern. But there was no need to, for it +flattered Claire’s vanity. “No--not yet, but he will. I met him at Jack +Taylor’s--at a supper-party.” + +“Did he know you were to be there?” + +“No. But he didn’t leave when he saw me.” + +There was a pause. I could not trust myself to say anything. But Claire +had no intention of leaving me curious. “I don’t think he’s happy with +her,” she remarked. + +“What makes you say that?” + +“Oh, several things. I know him, you know. He wouldn’t say he was.” + +“Perhaps he didn’t want to discuss it with you.” + +“Oh, no--not that. He isn’t reserved with me.” + +“I should think it was dangerous to discuss one’s wife under such +circumstances,” I laughed. + +Claire laughed also. “You should have heard what Jack had to say about +his wife! She’s down at Palm Beach.” + +“She’d better come home,” I ventured. + +“He was telling what a dance she leads him; she raises Cain if a woman +looks at him--and she damns every woman he meets before the woman has a +chance to look. Jack said marriage was hell--just hell. Reggie Channing +thought it was like a pair of old slippers that you got used to.” Jack +laughed and answered, “You’re at the stage where you think you can solve +the marriage problem by deceiving your wife!” + +I made no comment. Claire sat for a while, busy with her thoughts; then +she repeated, “He wouldn’t say he was happy! And he misses me, too. When +he was going, I held his hand, and said: ‘Well, Douglas, how goes it?’” + +“And then?” I asked; but she would not say any more. + +I waited a while, and then began, “Claire, let him alone. Give them a +chance to be happy.” + +“Why should I?” she demanded, in a voice of hostility. + +“She never harmed you,” I said. I knew I was being foolish, but I would +do what I could. + +“She took him away from me, didn’t she?” And Claire’s eyes were suddenly +alight with the hatred of her outcast class. “Why did she get him? +Why is she Mrs. van Tuiver, and I nobody? Because her father was rich, +because she had power and position, while I had to scratch for myself in +the world. Is that true, or isn’t it?” + +I could not deny that it might be part of the truth. “But they’re +married now,” I said, “and he loves her.” + +“He loves me, too. And I love him still, in spite of the way he’s +treated me. He’s the only man I ever really loved. Do you think I’m +going off and hide in a hole, while she spends his money and plays the +princess up and down the Avenue? Not much!” + +I fell silent. Should I set out upon another effort at “moulding water”? +Should I give Claire one more scolding--tell her, perhaps, how her very +features were becoming hard and ugly, as a result of the feelings she +was harbouring? Should I recall the pretences of generosity and dignity +she had made when we first met? I might have attempted this--but +something held me back. After all, the one person who could decide this +issue was Douglas van Tuiver. + +I rose. “Well, I have to be going. But I’ll drop round now and then, and +see what success you have.” + +She became suddenly important. “Maybe I won’t tell!” + +To which I answered, indifferently, “All right, it’s your secret.” But I +went off without much worry over that part of it. Claire must have some +one to whom to recount her troubles--or her triumphs, as the case might +be. + +29. I had my talk with Sylvia a day or two later, and made my excuse--a +friend from the West who had been going out of town in a few hours +later. + +The seed had been growing, I found. Ever since we had last met, her life +had consisted of arguments over the costume-ball on which her husband +had set his heart, and at which she had refused to play the hostess. + +“Of course, he’s right about one thing,” she remarked. “We can’t stay in +New York unless we give some big affair. Everyone expects it, and there +is no explanation except one he could not offer.” + +“I’ve made a big breach in your life, Sylvia,” I said. + +“It wasn’t all you. This unhappiness has been in me--it’s been like a +boil, and you’ve been the poultice.” (She had four younger brothers and +sisters, so these domestic similes came naturally.) + +“Boils,” I remarked, “are disfiguring, when they come to a head.” + +There was a pause. “How is your child-labour bill?” she asked, abruptly. + +“Why, it’s all right.” + +“Didn’t I see a letter in the paper saying it had been referred to a +sub-committee, some trick to suppress it for this session?” + +I could not answer. I had been hoping she had not seen that letter. + +“If I were to come forward now,” she said, “I could possibly block that +move, couldn’t I?” + +Still I said nothing. + +“If I were to take a bold stand--I mean if I were to speak at a public +meeting, and denounce the move.” + +“I suppose you could,” I had to admit. + +For a long time she sat with her head bowed. “The children will have to +wait,” she said, at last, half to herself. + +“My dear,” I answered (What else was there to answer?) “the children +have waited a long time.” + +“I hate to turn back--to have you say I’m a coward--” + +“I won’t say that, Sylvia.” + +“You will be too kind, no doubt, but that will be the truth.” + +I tried to reassure her. But the acids I had used--intended for tougher +skins than hers--had burned into the very bone, and now it was not +possible to stop their action. “I must make you understand,” she said, +“how serious a thing it seems to me for a wife to stand out against +her husband. I’ve been brought up to feel that it was the most terrible +thing a woman could do.” + +She stopped, and when she went on again her face was set like one +enduring pain. “So this is the decision to which I have come. If I do +anything of a public nature now, I drive my husband from me; on +the other hand, if I take a little time, I may be able to save the +situation. I need to educate myself, and I’m hoping I may be able to +educate him at the same time. If I can get him to read something--if +it’s only a few paragraphs everyday--I may gradually change his point of +view, so that he will tolerate what I believe. At any rate, I ought to +try; I am sure that is the wise and kind and fair thing to do.” + +“What will you do about the ball?” I asked. + +“I am going to take him away, out of this rush and distraction, this +dressing and undressing, hurrying about meeting people and chattering +about nothing.” + +“He is willing?” + +“Yes; in fact, he suggested it himself. He thinks my mind is turned, +with all the things I’ve been reading, and with Mrs. Frothingham, and +Mrs. Allison, and the rest. He hopes that if I go away, I may quiet +down and come to my senses. We have a good excuse. I have to think of my +health just now---” + +She stopped, and looked away from my eyes. I saw the colour spreading in +a slow wave over her cheeks; it was like those tints of early dawn that +are so ravishing to the souls of poets. “In four or five months from +now---” And she stopped again. + +I put my big hand gently over her small one. “I have three children of +my own,” I said. + +“So,” she went on, “it won’t seem so unreasonable. Some people know, and +the rest will guess, and there won’t be any talk--I mean, such as +there would be if it was rumoured that Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver had got +interested in Socialism, and refused to spend her husband’s money.” + +“I understand,” I replied. “It’s quite the most sensible thing, and I’m +glad you’ve found a way out. I shall miss you, of course, but we can +write each other long letters. Where are you going?” + +“I’m not absolutely sure. Douglas suggests a cruise in the West Indies, +but I think I should rather be settled in one place. He has a lovely +house in the mountains of North Carolina, and wants me to go there; but +it’s a show-place, with rich homes all round, and I know I’d soon be in +a social whirl. I thought of the camp in the Adirondacks. It would be +glorious to see the real woods in winter; but I lose my nerve when I +think of the cold--I was brought up in a warm place.” + +“A ‘camp’ sounds rather primitive for one in your condition,” I +suggested. + +“That’s because you haven’t been there. In reality it’s a big house, +with twenty-five rooms, and steam-heat and electric lights, and half a +dozen men to take care of it when it’s empty--as it has been for several +years.” + +I smiled--for I could read her thought. “Are you going to be unhappy +because you can’t occupy all your husband’s homes?” + +“There’s one other I prefer,” she continued, unwilling to be made to +smile. “They call it a ‘fishing lodge,’ and it’s down in the Florida +Keys. They’re putting a railroad through there, but meantime you can +only get to it by a launch. From the pictures, it’s the most heavenly +spot imaginable. Fancy running about those wonderful green waters in a +motor-boat!” + +“It sounds quite alluring,” I replied. “But isn’t it remote for you?” + +“We’re not so very far from Key West; and my husband means to have a +physician with us in any case. The advantage of being in a small place +is that we couldn’t entertain if we wanted to. I can have my Aunt Varina +come to stay with me, a dear, sweet soul who loves me devotedly; and +then if I find I have to have some new ideas, perhaps you can come---” + +“I don’t think your husband would favour that,” I said. + +She put her hand out to me in a quick gesture. “I don’t mean to give up +our friendship! I want you to understand, I intend to go on studying and +growing. I am doing what he asked me--it’s right that I should think of +his wishes, and of the health of my child. But the child will be growing +up, and sooner or later my husband must grant me the right to think, +to have a life of my own. You must stand by me and help me, whatever +happens.” + +I gave her my hand on that, and so we parted--for some time, as it +proved. I went up to Albany once more, in a last futile effort to save +our precious bill; and while I was there I got a note from her, saying +that she was leaving for the Florida Keys. + + + + + +BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER + + +For three months after this I had nothing but letters from Sylvia. She +proved to be an excellent letter-writer, full of verve and colour. +I would not say that she poured out her soul to me, but she gave me +glimpses of her states of mind, and the progress of her domestic drama. + +First, she described the place to which she had come; a ravishing spot, +where any woman ought to be happy. It was a little island, fringed with +a border of cocoanut-palms, which rustled and whispered day and night in +the breeze. It was covered with tropical foliage, and there was a long, +rambling bungalow, with screened “galleries,” and a beach of hard white +sand in front. The water was blue, dazzling with sunshine, and dotted +with distant green islands; all of it, air, water, and islands, were +warm. “I don’t realize till I get here,” she said, “I am never really +happy in the North. I wrap myself against the assaults of a cruel enemy. +But here I am at home; I cast off my furs, I stretch out my arms, I +bloom. I believe I shall quite cease to think for a while--I shall +forget all storms and troubles, and bask on the sand like a lizard. + +“And the water! Mary, you cannot imagine such water; why should it be +blue on top, and green when you look down into it? I have a little skiff +of my own in which I drift, and I have been happy for hours, studying +the bottom; you see every colour of the rainbow, and all as clear as in +an aquarium. I have been fishing, too, and have caught a tarpon. That +is supposed to be a great adventure, and it really is quite thrilling to +feel the monstrous creature struggling with you--though, of course, my +arms soon gave out, and I had to turn him over to my husband. This is +one of the famous fishing-grounds of the world, and I am glad of that, +because it will keep the men happy while I enjoy the sunshine. + +“I have discovered a fascinating diversion,” she wrote, in a second +letter. “I make them take me in the launch to one of the loneliest of +the keys; they go off to fish, and I have the whole day to myself, and +am as happy as a child on a picnic! I roam the beach, I take off my +shoes and stockings--there are no newspaper reporters snapping pictures. +I dare not go far in, for there are huge black creatures with dangerous +stinging tails; they rush away in a cloud of sand when I approach, but +the thought of stepping upon one by accident is terrifying. However, +I let the little wavelets wash round my toes, and I try to grab little +fish, and I pick up lovely shells; and then I go on, and I see a huge +turtle waddling to the water, and I dash up, and would stop him if I +dared, and then I find his eggs--such an adventure! + +“I am the prey of strange appetites and cravings. I have a delicious +luncheon with me, but suddenly the one thing in the world I want to +eat is turtle-eggs. I have no matches with me, and I do not know how to +build a fire like the Indians, so I have to hide the eggs back in the +sand until to-morrow. I hope the turtle does not move them--and that I +have not lost my craving in the meantime! + +“Then I go exploring inland. These islands were once the haunts of +pirates, so I may imagine all sorts of romantic things. What I find +are lemon-trees. I do not know if they are wild, or if the key was once +cultivated; the lemons are huge in size, and nearly all skin, but the +flavour is delicious. Turtle-eggs with wild lemon-juice! And then I go +on and come to a mangrove-swamp--dark and forbidding, a grisly place; +you imagine the trees are in torment, with limbs and roots tangled like +writhing serpents. I tiptoe in a little way, and then get frightened, +and run back to the beach. + +“I see on the sand a mysterious little yellow creature, running like the +wind; I make a dash, and get between him and his hole; and so he stands, +crouching on guard, staring at me, and I at him. He is some sort of +crab, but he stands on two legs like a caricature of a man; he has two +big weapons upraised for battle, and staring black eyes stuck out on +long tubes. He is an uncanny thing to look at; but then suddenly the +idea comes, How do I seem to him? I realize that he is alive; a tiny +mite of hunger for life, of fear and resolution. I think, How lonely he +must be! And I want to tell him that I love him, and would not hurt him +for the world; but I have no way to make him understand me, and all I +can do is to go away and leave him. I go, thinking what a strange +place the world is, with so many living things, each shut away apart by +himself, unable to understand the others or make the others understand +him. This is what is called philosophy, is it not? Tell me some books +where these things are explained.... + +“I am reading all you sent me. When I grew tired of exploring the key, I +lay down in the shade of a palm-tree, and read--guess what? ‘Number Five +John Street’! So all this loveliness vanished, and I was back in the +world’s nightmare. An extraordinary book! I decided that it would be +good for my husband, so I read him a few paragraphs; but I found that it +only irritated him. He wants me to rest, he says--he can’t see why I’ve +come away to the Florida Keys to read about the slums of London. + +“My hope of gradually influencing his mind has led to a rather appalling +discovery--that he has the same intention as regards me! He too has +brought a selection of books, and reads to me a few pages every day, and +explains what they mean. He calls _this_ resting! I am no match for +him, of course--I never realized more keenly the worthlessness of my +education. But I see in a general way where his arguments tend--that +life is something that has grown, and is not in the power of men to +change; but even if he could convince me of this, I should not find it a +source of joy. I have a feeling always that if you were here, you would +know something to answer. + +“The truth is that I am so pained by the conflict between us that I +cannot argue at all. I find myself wondering what our marriage would +have been like if we had discovered that we had the same ideas and +interests. There are days and nights at a time when I tell myself that +I ought to believe what my husband believes, that I ought never have +allowed myself to think of anything else. But that really won’t do as a +life-programme; I tried it years ago with my dear mother and father. Did +I ever tell you that my mother is firmly convinced in her heart that I +am to suffer eternally in a real hell of fire because I do not believe +certain things about the Bible? She still has visions of it--though not +so bad since she turned me over to a husband! + +“Now it is my husband who is worried about my ideas. He is reading a +book by Burke, a well-known old writer. The book deals with English +history, which I don’t know much about, but I see that it resents modern +changes, and the whole spirit of change. And Mary, why can’t I feel that +way? I really ought to love those old and stately things, I ought to +be reverent to the past; I was brought up that way. Sometimes I tremble +when I realize how very flippant and cynical I am. I seem to see the +wrong side of everything, so that I couldn’t believe in it if I wanted +to!” + +2. Her letters were full of the wonders of Nature about her. There was +a snow-white egret who made his home upon her island; she watched his +fishing operations, and meant to find his nest, so as to watch his +young. The men made a trip into the Everglades, and brought back +wonder-tales of flocks of flamingoes making scarlet clouds in the sky, +huge colonies of birds’ nests crowded like a city. They had brought home +a young one, which screamed all day to be stuffed with fish. + +A cousin of Sylvia’s, Harley Chilton, had come to visit her. He had +taken van Tuiver on hunting-trips during the latter’s courtship days, +and now was a good fishing-companion. He was not allowed to discover the +state of affairs between Sylvia and her husband, but he saw his cousin +reading serious books, and his contribution to the problem was to tell +her that she would get wrinkles in her face, and that even her feet +would grow big, like those of the ladies in New England. + +Also, there was the young physician who kept watch over Sylvia’s +health; a dapper little man with pink and white complexion, and a brown +moustache from which he could not keep his fingers. He had a bungalow +to himself, but sometimes he went along on the launch-trips, and Sylvia +thought she observed wrinkles of amusement round his eyes whenever she +differed from her husband on the subject of Burke. She suspected +this young man of not telling all his ideas to his multi-millionaire +patients, and she was entertained by the prospect of probing him. + +Then came Mrs. Varina Tuis; who since the tragic cutting of her own +domestic knot, had given her life to the service of the happier members +of the Castleman line. She was now to be companion and counsellor to +Sylvia; and on the very day of her arrival she discovered the chasm that +was yawning in her niece’s life. + +“It’s wonderful,” wrote Sylvia, “the intuition of the Castleman women. +We were in the launch, passing one of the viaducts of the new railroad, +and Aunt Varina exclaimed, ‘What a wonderful piece of work!’ ‘Yes,’ put +in my husband, ‘but don’t let Sylvia hear you say it.’ ‘Why not?’ she +asked; and he replied, ‘She’ll tell you how many hours a day the poor +Dagoes have to work.’ That was all; but I saw Aunt Varina give a quick +glance at me, and I saw that she was not fooled by my efforts to make +conversation. It was rather horrid of Douglas, for he knows that I love +these old people, and do not want them to know about my trouble. But it +is characteristic of him--when he is annoyed he seldom tries to spare +others. + +“As soon as we were alone, Aunt Varina began, ‘Sylvia, my dear, what +does it mean? What have you done to worry your husband?’ + +“You would be entertained if I could remember the conversation. I tried +to dodge the trouble by answering off-hand, ‘Douglas had eaten too many +turtle-eggs for luncheon ‘--this being a man-like thing, that any dear +old lady would understand. But she was too shrewd. I had to explain +to her that I was learning to think, and this sent her into a perfect +panic. + +“‘You actually mean, my child, that you are thinking about subjects to +which your husband objects, and you refuse to stop when he asks you to? +Surely you must know that he has some good reason for objecting.’ + +“‘I suppose so,’ I said, ‘but he has not made that reason clear to me; +and certainly I have a right--’ + +“She would not hear any more than that. ‘Right, Sylvia? Right? Are you +claiming the right to drive your husband from you?’ + +“‘But surely I can’t regulate all my thinking by the fear of driving my +husband from me!’ + +“‘Sylvia, you take my breath away. Where did you get such ideas?’ + +“‘But answer me, Aunt Varina--can I?’ + +“‘What thinking is as important to a woman as thinking how to please +a good, kind husband? What would become of her family if she no longer +tried to do this?’ + +“So you see, we opened up a large subject. I know you consider me a +backward person, and you may be interested to learn that there are some +to whom I seem a terrifying rebel. Picture poor Aunt Varina, her old +face full of concern, repeating over and over, ‘My child, my child, I +hope I have come in time! Don’t scorn the advice of a woman who has paid +bitterly for her mistakes. You have a good husband, a man who loves you +devotedly; you are one of the most fortunate of women--now do not throw +your happiness away!’ + +“‘Aunt Varina,’ I said (I forget if I ever told you that her husband +gambled and drank, and finally committed suicide) ‘Aunt Varina, do you +really believe that every man is so anxious to get away from his wife +that it must take her whole stock of energy, her skill in diplomacy, to +keep him?’ + +“‘Sylvia,’ she answered, ‘you put things so strangely, you use such +horribly crude language, I don’t know how to talk to you!’ (That must be +your fault, Mary. I never heard such a charge before.) ‘I can only tell +you this--that the wife who permits herself to think about other things +than her duty to her husband and her children is taking a frightful +risk. She is playing with fire, Sylvia--she will realize too late what +it means to set aside the wisdom of her sex, the experience of other +women for ages and ages!’ + +“So there you are, Mary! I am studying another unwritten book, the +Maxims of Aunt Varina! + +“She has found the remedy for my troubles, the cure for my disease of +thought--I am to sew! I tell her that I have more clothes than I can +wear in a dozen seasons, and she answers, in an awesome voice, ‘There is +the little stranger!’ When I point out that the little stranger will +be expected to have a ‘layette’ costing many thousands of dollars, she +replies, ‘They will surely permit him to wear some of the things +his mother’s hands have made.’ So, behold me, seated on the gallery, +learning fancy stitches--and with Kautsky on the Social Revolution +hidden away in the bottom of my sewing-bag!” + +3. The weeks passed. The legislature at Albany adjourned, without regard +to our wishes; and so, like the patient spider whose web is destroyed, +we set to work upon a new one. So much money must be raised, so many +articles must be written, so many speeches delivered, so many people +seized upon and harried and wrought to a state of mind where they were +dangerous to the future career of legislators. Such is the process of +social reform under the private property régime; a process which the +pure and simple reformers imagine we shall tolerate for ever--God save +us! + +Sylvia asked me for the news, and I told it to her--how we had failed, +and what we had to do next. So pretty soon there came by registered mail +a little box, in which I found a diamond ring. “I cannot ask him for +money just now,” she explained, “but here is something that has been +mine from girlhood. It cost about four hundred dollars--this for your +guidance in selling it. Not a day passes that I do not see many times +that much wasted; so take it for the cause.” Queen Isabella and her +jewels! + +In this letter she told me of a talk she had had with her husband on the +“woman-problem.” She had thought at first that it was going to prove a +helpful talk--he had been in a fairer mood than she was usually able to +induce. “He evaded some of my questions,” she explained, “but I don’t +think it was deliberate; it is simply the evasive attitude of mind which +the whole world takes. He says he does not think that women are inferior +to men, only that they are different; the mistake is for them to try to +become _like_ men. It is the old proposition of ‘charm,’ you see. I put +that to him, and he admitted that he did like to be ‘charmed.’ + +“I said, ‘You wouldn’t, if you knew as much about the process as I do.’ + +“‘Why not?’ he asked. + +“‘Because, it’s not an honest process. It’s not a straight way for one +sex to deal with the other.’ + +“He asked what I meant by that; but then, remembering the cautions of +my great-aunt, I laughed. ‘If you are going to compel me to use the +process, you can hardly expect me to tell you the secret of it.’ + +“‘Then there’s no use trying to talk,’ he said. + +“‘Ah, but there is!’ I exclaimed. ‘You admit that I have ‘charm’--dozens +of other men admitted it. And so it ought to count for something if +I declare that I know it’s not an honest thing--that it depends upon +trickery, and appeals to the worst qualities in a man. For instance, his +vanity. “Flatter him,” Lady Dee used to say. “He’ll swallow it.” And he +will--I never knew a man to refuse a compliment in my life. His love of +domination. “If you want anything, make him think that _he_ wants it!” + His egotism. She had a bitter saying--I can hear the very tones of her +voice: “When in doubt, talk about HIM.” That is what is called “charm”!’ + +“‘I don’t seem to feel it,’ he said. + +“’ No, because now you are behind the scenes. But when you were in +front, you felt it, you can’t deny. And you would feel it again, any +time I chose to use it. But I want to know if there is not some honest +way a woman can interest a man. The question really comes to this--Can a +man love a woman for what she really is?’ + +“‘I should say,’ he said, ‘that it depends upon the woman.’ + +“I admitted this was a plausible answer. ‘But you loved me, when I made +myself a mystery to you. But now that I am honest with you, you have +made it clear that you don’t like it, that you won’t have it. And that +is the problem that women have to face. It is a fact that the women +of our family have always ruled the men; but they’ve done it by +indirection--nobody ever thought seriously of “women’s rights” in +Castleman County. But you see, women _have_ rights; and somehow or other +they will fool the men, or else the men must give up the idea that +they are the superior sex, and have the right, or the ability, to rule +women.’ + +“Then I saw how little he had followed me. ‘There has to be a head to +the family,’ he said. + +“I answered, ‘There have been cases in history of a king and queen +ruling together, and getting along very well. Why not the same thing in +a family?’ + +“‘That’s all right, so far as the things of the family are concerned. +But such affairs as business and politics are in the sphere of men; +and women cannot meddle in them without losing their best qualities as +women.’ + +“And so there we were. I won’t repeat his arguments, for doubtless you +have read enough anti-suffrage literature. The thing I noticed was that +if I was very tactful and patient, I could apparently carry him along +with me; but when the matter came up again, I would discover that he +was back where he had been before. A woman must accept the guidance of +a man; she must take the man’s word for the things that he understands. +‘But suppose the man is _wrong?_’ I said; and there we stopped--there we +shall stop always, I begin to fear. I agree with him that woman should +obey man--so long as man is right!” + +4. Her letters did not all deal with this problem. In spite of the +sewing, she found time to read a number of books, and we argued about +these. Then, too, she had been probing her young doctor, and had made +interesting discoveries about him. For one thing, he was full of awe +and admiration for her; and her awakening mind found material for +speculation in this. + +“Here is this young man; he thinks he is a scientist, he rather prides +himself upon being cold-blooded; yet a cunning woman could twist him +round her finger. He had an unhappy love-affair when he was young, so he +confided to me; and now, in his need and loneliness, a beautiful woman +is transformed into something supernatural in his imagination--she is +like a shimmering soap-bubble, that he blows with his own breath. I know +that I could never get him to see the real truth about me; I might tell +him that I have let myself be tied up in a golden net--but he would only +marvel at my spirituality. Oh, the women I have seen trading upon the +credulity of men! And when I think how I did this myself! If men +were wise, they would give us the vote, and a share in the world’s +work--anything that would bring us out into the light of day, and break +the spell of mystery that hangs round us! + +“By the way,” she wrote in another letter, “there will be trouble if you +come down here. I was telling Dr. Perrin about you, and your ideas about +fasting, and mental healing, and the rest of your fads. He got very +much excited. It seems that he takes his diploma seriously, and he’s not +willing to be taught by amateur experiments. He wanted me to take some +pills, and I refused, and I think now he blames you for it. He has found +a bond of sympathy with my husband, who proves his respect for authority +by taking whatever he is told to take. Dr. Perrin got his medical +training here in the South, and I imagine he’s ten or twenty years +behind the rest of the medical world. Douglas picked him out because +he’d met him socially. It makes no difference to me--because I don’t +mean to have any doctoring done to me!” + +Then, on top of these things, would come a cry from her soul. “Mary, +what will you do if some day you get a letter from me confessing that I +am not happy? I dare not say a word to my own people. I am supposed to +be at the apex of human triumph, and I have to play that role to keep +from hurting them. I know that if my dear old father got an inkling of +the truth, it would kill him. My one real solid consolation is that I +have helped him, that I have lifted a money-burden from his life; I have +done that, I tell myself, over and over; but then I wonder, have I done +anything but put the reckoning off? I have given all his other children +a new excuse for extravagance, an impulse towards worldliness which they +did not need. + +“There is my sister Celeste, for example. I don’t think I have told you +about her. She made her _début_ last fall, and was coming up to New York +to stay with me this winter. She had it all arranged in her mind to make +a rich marriage; I was to give her the _entrée_--and now I have been +selfish, and thought of my own desires, and gone away. Can I say to her, +Be warned by me, I have made a great match, and it has not brought me +happiness? She would not understand, she would say I was foolish. She +would say, ‘If I had your luck, _I_ would be happy.’ And the worst of it +is, it would be true. + +“You see the position I am in with the rest of the children. I cannot +say, ‘You are spending too much of papa’s money, it is wrong for you to +sign cheques and trust to his carelessness.’ I have had my share of the +money, I have lined my own nest. All I can do is to buy dresses and hats +for Celeste; and know that she will use these to fill her girl-friends +with envy, and make scores of other families live beyond their means.” + +5. Sylvia’s pregnancy was moving to its appointed end. She wrote me +beautifully about it, much more frankly and simply than she could have +brought herself to talk. She recalled to me my own raptures, and +also, my own heartbreak. “Mary! Mary! I felt the child to-day! Such a +sensation, I could not have credited it if anyone had told me. I almost +fainted. There is something in me that wants to turn back, that is +afraid to go on with such experiences. I do not wish to be seized in +spite of myself, and made to feel things beyond my control. I wander off +down the beach, and hide myself, and cry and cry. I think I could almost +pray again.” + +And then again, “I am in ecstasy, because I am to bear a child, a child +of my own! Oh, wonderful, wonderful! But suddenly my ecstasy is shot +through with terror, because the father of this child is a man I do not +love. There is no use trying to deceive myself--nor you! I must have one +human soul with whom I can talk about it as it really is. I do not love +him, I never did love him, I never shall love him! + +“Oh, how could they have all been so mistaken? Here is Aunt Varina--one +of those who helped to persuade me into this marriage. She told me that +love would come; it seemed to be her idea--my mother had it too--that +you had only to submit yourself to a man, to follow and obey him, and +love would take possession of your heart. I tried credulously, and it +did not happen as they promised. And now, I am to bear him a child; and +that will bind us together for ever! + +“Oh, the despair of it--I do not love the father of my child! I say, The +child will be partly his, perhaps more his than mine. It will be like +him--it will have this quality and that, the very qualities, perhaps, +that are a source of distress to me in the father. So I shall have these +things before me day and night, all the rest of my life; I shall have to +see them growing and hardening; it will be a perpetual crucifixion of +my mother-love. I seek to comfort myself by saying, The child can be +trained differently, so that he will not have these qualities. But then +I think, No, you cannot train him as you wish. Your husband will have +rights to the child, rights superior to your own. Then I foresee the +most dreadful strife between us. + +“A shrewd girl-friend once told me that I ought to be better or worse; I +ought not to see people’s faults as I do, or else I ought to love people +less. And I can see that I ought to have been too good to make this +marriage, or else not too good to make the best of it. I know that +I might be happy as Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, if I could think of the +worldly advantages, and the fact that my child will inherit them. But +instead, I see them as a trap, in which not only ourselves but the child +is caught, and from which I cannot save us. Oh, what a mistake a woman +makes when she marries a man with the idea that she is going to change +him! He will not change, he will not have the need of change suggested +to him. He wants _peace_ in his home--which means that he wants to be +what he is. + +“Sometimes I can study the situation quite coolly, and as if it didn’t +concern me at all. He has required me to subject my mind to his. But +he will not be content with a general capitulation; he must have a +surrender from each individual soldier, from every rebel hidden in the +hills. He tracks them out (my poor, straggling, feeble ideas) and either +they take the oath of allegiance, or they are buried where they lie. The +process is like the spoiling of a child, I find; the more you give him, +the more he wants. And if any little thing is refused, then you see him +set out upon a regular campaign to break you down and get it.” + +A month or more later she wrote: “Poor Douglas is getting restless. He +has caught every kind of fish there is to catch, and hunted every kind +of animal and bird, in and out of season. Harley has gone home, and so +have our other guests; it would be embarrassing to me to have company +now. So Douglas has no one but the doctor and myself and my poor aunt. +He has spoken several times of our going away; but I do not want to go, +and I think I ought to consider my own health at this critical time. It +is hot here, but I simply thrive in it--I never felt in better health. +So I asked him to go up to New York, or visit somewhere for a while, +and let me stay here until my baby is born. Does that seem so very +unreasonable? It does not to me, but poor Aunt Varina is in agony about +it--I am letting my husband drift away from me! + +“I speculate about my lot as a woman; I see the bitterness and the +sorrow of my sex through the ages. I have become physically misshapen, +so that I am no longer attractive to him. I am no longer active and +free, I can no longer go about with him; on the contrary, I am a burden, +and he is a man who never tolerated a burden before. What this means is +that I have lost the magic hold of sex. + +“As a woman it was my business to exert all my energies to maintain it. +And I know how I could restore it now; there is young Dr. Perrin! _He_ +does not find me a burden, _he_ would tolerate any deficiencies! And +I can see my husband on the alert in an instant, if I become too much +absorbed in discussing your health-theories with my handsome young +guardian! + +“This is one of the recognized methods of keeping your husband; I +learned from Lady Dee all there is to know about it. But I would find +the method impossible now, even if my happiness were dependent upon +retaining my husband’s love. I should think of the rights of my friend, +the little doctor. That is one point to note for the ‘new’ woman, is it +not? You may mention it in your next suffrage-speech! + +“There are other methods, of course. I have a mind, and I might turn its +powers to entertaining him, instead of trying to solve the problems of +the universe. But to do this, I should have to believe that it was the +one thing in the world for me to do; and I have permitted a doubt of +that to gain entrance to my brain! My poor aunt’s exhortations inspire +me to efforts to regain the faith of my mothers, but I simply cannot--I +cannot! She sits by me with the terror of all the women of all the ages +in her eyes. I am losing a man! + +“I don’t know if you have ever set out to hold a man--deliberately, +I mean. Probably you haven’t. That bitter maxim of Lady Dee’s is the +literal truth of it--‘When in doubt, talk about HIM!’ If you will +tactfully and shrewdly keep a man talking about himself, his tastes, +his ideas, his work and the importance of it, there is never the least +possibility of your boring him. You must not just tamely agree with him, +of course; if you hint a difference now and then, and make him convince +you, he will find that stimulating; or if you can manage not to be quite +convinced, but sweetly open to conviction, he will surely call again. +‘Keep him busy every minute,’ Lady Dee used to say. ‘Run away with him +now and then--like a spirited horse!’ And she would add, ‘But don’t let +him drop the reins!’ + +“You can have no idea how many women there are in the world deliberately +playing such parts. Some of them admit it; others just do the thing that +is easiest, and would die of horror if they were told what it is. It +is the whole of the life of a successful society woman, young or old. +Pleasing a man! Waiting upon his moods, piquing him, flattering him, +feeding his vanity--‘charming’ him! That is what Aunt Varina wants me to +do now; if I am not too crude in my description of the process, she has +no hesitation in admitting the truth. It is what she tried to do, it is +what almost every woman has done who has held a family together and made +a home. I was reading _Jane Eyre_ the other day. _There_ is your woman’s +ideal of an imperious and impetuous lover! Listen to him, when his mood +is on him!-- + +“I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night; and that +is why I sent for you; the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient +company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. +To-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and +recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out--to learn +more of you--therefore speak!” + +6. It was now May, and Sylvia’s time was little more than a month off. +She had been urging me to come and visit her, but I had refused, knowing +that my presence must necessarily be disturbing to both her husband and +her aunt. But now she wrote that her husband was going back to New +York. “He was staying out of a sense of duty to me,” she said. “But his +discontent was so apparent that I had to point out to him that he was +doing harm to me as well as to himself. + +“I doubt if you will want to come here now. The last of the winter +visitors have left. It is really hot, so hot that you cannot get cool by +going into the water. Yet I am revelling in it; I wear almost nothing, +and that white; and even the suspicious Dr. Perrin cannot but admit that +I am thriving; his references to pills are purely formal. + +“Lately I have not permitted myself to think much about the situation +between my husband and myself. I cannot blame him, and I cannot blame +myself, and I am trying to keep my peace of mind till my baby is born. I +have found myself following half-instinctively the procedure you told +me about; I talk to my own subconscious mind, and to the baby--I command +them to be well. I whisper to them things that are not so very far from +praying; but I don’t think my poor dear mamma would recognize it in its +new scientific dress! + +“But sometimes I can’t help thinking of the child and its future, +and then all of a sudden my heart is ready to break with pity for the +child’s father! I have the consciousness that I do not love him, and +that he has always known it--and that makes me remorseful. But I told +him the truth before we married--he promised to be patient with me till +I had learned to love him! Now I want to burst into tears and cry aloud, +‘Oh, why did you do it? Why did I let myself be persuaded into this +marriage?’ + +“I tried to have a talk with him last night, after he had decided to go +away. I was full of pity, and a desire to help. I said I wanted him +to know that no matter how much we might disagree about some things, +I meant to learn to live happily with him. We must find some sort of +compromise, for the sake of the child, if not for ourselves; we must not +let the child suffer. He answered coldly that there would be no need +for the child to suffer, the child would have the best the world could +afford. I suggested that there might arise some question as to just +what the best was; but to that he said nothing. He went on to rebuke my +discontent; had he not given me everything a woman could want? he asked. +He was too polite to mention money; but he said that I had leisure and +entire freedom from care. I was persisting in assuming cares, while he +was doing all in his power to prevent it. + +“And that was as far as we got. I gave up the discussion, for we should +only have gone the old round over again. + +“Douglas has taken up a saying that my cousin brought with him: ‘What +you don’t know won’t hurt you!’ I think that before he left, Harley had +begun to suspect that all was not well between my husband and myself, +and he felt it necessary to give me a little friendly counsel. He was +tactful, and politely vague, but I understood him--my worldly-wise young +cousin. I think that saying of his sums up the philosophy that he would +teach to all women--‘What you don’t know won’t hurt you!’” + +7. A week or so later Sylvia wrote me that her husband was in New +York. And I waited another week, for good measure, and then one morning +dropped in for a call upon Claire Lepage. + +Why did I do it? you ask. I had no definite purpose--only a general +opposition to the philosophy of Cousin Harley. + +I was ushered into Claire’s boudoir, which was still littered with last +evening’s apparel. She sat in a dressing-gown with resplendent red roses +on it, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, and apologized for not +being ready for callers. + +“I’ve just had a talking to from Larry,” she explained. + +“Larry?” said I, inquiringly; for Claire had always informed me +elaborately that van Tuiver had been her one departure from propriety, +and always would be. + +Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences +were too much trouble. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know +how to manage men,” she said. “I never can get along with one for any +time.” + +I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I had +only tried it once. “Tell me,” I said, “who’s Larry?” + +“There’s his picture.” She reached into a drawer of her dresser. + +I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know better. +“He doesn’t seem especially forbidding,” I said. + +“That’s just the trouble--you can never tell about men!” + +I noted a date on the picture. “He seems to be an old friend. You never +told me about him.” + +“He doesn’t like being told about. He has a troublesome wife.” + +I winced inwardly, but all I said was, “I see.” + +“He’s a stock-broker; and he got ‘squeezed,’ so he says, and it’s +made him cross--and careful with his money, too. That’s trying, in a +stock-broker, you must admit.” She laughed. “And still he’s just as +particular--wants to have his own way in everything, wants to say whom I +shall know and where I shall go. I said, ‘I have all the inconveniences +of matrimony, and none of the advantages.’” + +I made some remark upon the subject of the emancipation of woman; and +Claire, who was now leaning back in her chair, combing out her long +black tresses, smiled at me out of half-closed eyelids. “Guess whom he’s +objecting to!” she said. And when I pronounced it impossible, she looked +portentous. “There are bigger fish in the sea than Larry Edgewater!” + +“And you’ve hooked one?” I asked, innocently. + +“Well, I don’t mean to give up all my friends.” + +I went on casually to talk about my plans for the summer; and a few +minutes later, after a lull--“By the way,” remarked Claire, “Douglas van +Tuiver is in town.” + +“How do you know?” + +“I’ve seen him.” + +“Indeed! Where?” + +“I got Jack Taylor to invite me again. You see, when Douglas fell in +love with his peerless southern beauty, Jack predicted he’d get over it +even more quickly. Now he’s interested in proving he was right.” + +I waited a moment, and then asked, carelessly, “Is he having any +success?” + +“I said, ‘Douglas, why don’t you come to see me?’ He was in a playful +mood. ‘What do you want? A new automobile?’ I answered, ‘I haven’t any +automobile, new or old, and you know it. What I want is you. I always +loved you--surely I proved that to you.’ ‘What you proved to me was that +you were a sort of wild-cat. I’m afraid of you. And anyway, I’m tired of +women. I’ll never trust another one.’” + +“About the same conclusion as you’ve come to regarding men,” I remarked. + +“‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘come and see me, and we’ll talk over old times. +You may trust me, I swear I’ll not tell a living soul.’ ‘You’ve been +consoling yourself with someone else,’ he said. But I knew he was only +guessing. He was seeking for something that would worry me, and he said, +‘You’re drinking too much. People that drink can’t be trusted.’ ‘You +know,’ I replied, ‘I didn’t drink too much when I was with you. I’m not +drinking as much as you are, right now.’ He answered, ‘I’ve been off on +a desert island for God knows how many months, and I’m celebrating my +escape.’ ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘let me help celebrate!’” + +“What did he say to that?” + +Claire resumed the combing of her silken hair, and smiled a slow smile +at me. “‘You may trust me, Douglas,’ I said. ‘I swear I’ll not tell a +living soul!’” + +“Of course,” I remarked, appreciatively, “that means he said he’d come!” + +“_I_ haven’t told you!” was the reply. + +8. I knew that I had only to wait for Claire to tell me the rest of the +story. But her mind went off on another tack. “Sylvia’s going to have a +baby,” she remarked, suddenly. + +“That ought to please her husband,” I said. + +“You can see him beginning to swell with paternal pride!--so Jack said. +He sent for a bottle of some famous kind of champagne that he has, to +celebrate the new ‘millionaire baby.’ (They used to call Douglas that, +once upon a time.) Before they got through, they had made it triplets. +Jack says Douglas is the one man in New York who can afford them.” + +“Your friend Jack seems to be what they call a wag,” I commented. + +“It isn’t everybody that Douglas will let carry on with him like that. +He takes himself seriously, as a rule. And he expects to take the new +baby seriously.” + +“It generally binds a man tighter to his wife, don’t you think?” + +I watched her closely, and saw her smile at my naiveté. “No,” she said, +“I don’t. It leaves them restless. It’s a bore all round.” + +I did not dispute her authority; she ought to know her husbands, I +thought. + +She was facing the mirror, putting up her hair; and in the midst of the +operation she laughed. “All that evening, while we were having a jolly +time at Jack Taylor’s, Larry was here waiting.” + +“Then no wonder you had a row!” I said. + +“He hadn’t told me he was coming. And was I to sit here all night alone? +It’s always the same--I never knew a man who really in his heart was +willing for you to have any friends, or any sort of good time without +him.” + +“Perhaps,” I replied, “he’s afraid you mightn’t be true to him.” I +meant this for a jest, of the sort that Claire and her friends would +appreciate. Little did I foresee where it was to lead us! + +I remember how once on the farm my husband had a lot of dynamite, +blasting out stumps; and my emotions when I discovered the children +innocently playing with a stick of it. Something like these children I +seem now to myself, looking back on this visit to Claire, and our talk. + +“You know,” she observed, without smiling, “Larry’s got a bee in his +hat. I’ve seen men who were jealous, and kept watch over women, but +never one that was obsessed like him.” + +“What’s it about?” + +“He’s been reading a book about diseases, and he tells me tales about +what may happen to me, and what may happen to him. When you’ve listened +a while, you can see microbes crawling all over the walls of the room.” + +“Well----” I began. + +“I was sick of his lecturing, so I said, ‘Larry, you’ll have to do like +me--have everything there is, and get over it, and then you won’t need +to worry.’” + +I sat still, staring at her; I think I must have stopped breathing. +At the end of an eternity, I said, “You’ve not really had any of these +diseases, Claire?” + +“Who hasn’t?” she countered. + +Again there was a pause. “You know,” I observed, “some of them are +dangerous----” + +“Oh, of course,” she answered, lightly. “There’s one that makes your +nose fall in and your hair fall out--but you haven’t seen anything like +that happening to me!” + +“But there’s another,” I hinted--“one that’s much more common.” And when +she did not take the hint, I continued, “Also it’s more serious than +people generally realize.” + +She shrugged her shoulders. “What of it? Men bring you these things, and +it’s part of the game. So what’s the use of bothering?” + +9. There was a long silence; I had to have time to decide what course to +take. There was so much that I wanted to get from her, and so much that +I wanted to hide from her! + +“I don’t want to bore you, Claire,” I began, finally, “but really this +is a matter of importance to you. You see, I’ve been reading up on the +subject as well as Larry. The doctors have been making new discoveries. +They used to think this was just a local infection, like a cold, but now +they find it’s a blood disease, and has the gravest consequences. For +one thing, it causes most of the surgical operations that have to be +performed on women.” + +“Maybe so,” she said, still indifferent. “I’ve had two operations. But +it’s ancient history now.” + +“You mayn’t have reached the end yet,” I persisted. “People suppose they +are cured of gonorrhea, when really it’s only suppressed, and is liable +to break out again at any time.” + +“Yes, I knew. That’s some of the information Larry had been making love +to me with.” + +“It may get into the joints and cause rheumatism; it may cause +neuralgia; it’s been known to affect the heart. Also it causes +two-thirds of all the blindness in infants----” + +And suddenly Claire laughed. “That’s Sylvia Castleman’s lookout it seems +to me!” + +“Oh! OH!” I whispered, losing my self-control. + +“What’s the matter?” she asked, and I noticed that her voice had become +sharp. + +“Do you really mean what you’ve just implied?” + +“That Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver may have to pay something for what she has +done to me? Well, what of it?” And suddenly Claire flew into a passion, +as she always did when our talk came to her rival. “Why shouldn’t she +take chances the same as the rest of us? Why should I have it and she +get off?” + +I fought for my composure. After a pause, I said: “It’s not a thing +we want anybody to have, Claire. We don’t want anybody to take such a +chance. The girl ought to have been told.” + +“Told? Do you imagine she would have given up her great catch?” + +“She might have, how can you be sure? Anyhow, she should have had the +chance.” + +There was a long silence. I was so shaken that it was hard for me to +find words. “As a matter of fact,” said Claire, grimly, “I thought of +warning her myself. There’d have been some excitement at least! You +remember--when they came out of church. You helped to stop me!” + +“It would have been too late then,” I heard myself saying. + +“Well,” she exclaimed, with fresh excitement, “it’s Miss Sylvia’s +turn now! We’ll see if she’s such a grand lady that she can’t get my +diseases!” + +I could no longer contain myself. “Claire,” I cried, “you are talking +like a devil!” + +She picked up a powder-puff, and began to use it diligently. “I know,” + she said--and I saw her burning eyes in the glass--“you can’t fool me. +You’ve tried to be kind, but you despise me in your heart. You think I’m +as bad as any woman of the street. Very well then, I speak for my class, +and I tell you, this is where we prove our humanity. They throw us out, +but you see we get back in!” + +“My dear woman,” I said, “you don’t understand. You’d not feel as you +do, If you knew that the person to pay the penalty might be an innocent +little child.” + +“_Their_ child! Yes, it’s too bad if there has to be anything the matter +with the little prince! But I might as well tell you the truth--I’ve had +that in mind all along. I didn’t know just what would happen, or how--I +don’t believe anybody does, the doctors who pretend to are just faking +you. But I knew Douglas was rotten, and maybe his children would be +rotten, and they’d all of them suffer. That was one of the things that +kept me from interfering and smashing him up.” + +I was speechless now, and Claire, watching me, laughed. “You look as if +you’d had no idea of it. Don’t you know that I told you at the time?” + +“You told me at the time!” + +“I suppose, you didn’t understand. I’m apt to talk French when I’m +excited. We have a saying: ‘The wedding present which the mistress +leaves in the basket of the bride.’ That was pretty near telling, wasn’t +it?” + +“Yes,” I said, in a low voice. + +And the other, after watching me for a moment more, went on: “You think +I’m revengeful, don’t you? Well, I used to reproach myself with this, +and I tried to fight it down; but the time comes when you want people to +pay for what they take from you. Let me tell you something that I never +told to anyone, that I never expected to tell. You see me drinking and +going to the devil; you hear me talking the care-free talk of my world, +but in the beginning I was really in love with Douglas van Tuiver, and +I wanted his child. I wanted it so that it was an ache to me. And yet, +what chance did I have? I’d have been the joke of his set for ever if +I’d breathed it; I’d have been laughed out of the town. I even tried at +one time to trap him--to get his child in spite of him, but I found that +the surgeons had cut me up, and I could never have a child. So I have +to make the best of it--I have to agree with my friends that it’s a good +thing, it saves me trouble! But _she_ comes along, and she has what +I wanted, and all the world thinks it wonderful and sublime. She’s a +beautiful young mother! What’s she ever done in her life that she has +everything, and I go without? You may spend your time shedding tears +over her and what may happen to her but for my part, I say this--let her +take her chances! Let her take her chances with the other women in the +world--the women she’s too good and too pure to know anything about!” + +10. I came out of Claire’s house, sick with horror. Not since the time +when I had read my poor nephew’s letter had I been so shaken. Why had +I not thought long ago of questioning Claire about these matters. How +could I have left Sylvia all this time exposed to peril? + +The greatest danger was to her child at the time of birth. I figured up, +according to the last letter I had received; there was about ten days +yet, and so I felt some relief. I thought first of sending a telegram, +but reflected that it would be difficult, not merely to tell her what to +do in a telegram, but to explain to her afterwards why I had chosen +this extraordinary method. I recollected that in her last letter she had +mentioned the name of the surgeon who was coming from New York to attend +her during her confinement. Obviously the thing for me to do was to see +this surgeon. + +“Well, madame?” he said, when I was seated in his inner office. + +He was a tall, elderly man, immaculately groomed, and formal and precise +in his manner. “Dr. Overton,” I began, “my friend, Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver writes me that you are going to Florida shortly.” + +“That is correct,” he said. + +“I have come to see you about a delicate matter. I presume I need hardly +say that I am relying upon the seal of professional secrecy.” + +I saw his gaze become suddenly fixed. “Certainly, madame,” he said. + +“I am taking this course because Mrs. van Tuiver is a very dear friend +of mine, and I am concerned about her welfare. It has recently come +to my knowledge that she has become exposed to infection by a venereal +disease.” + +He would hardly have started more if I had struck him. “HEY?” he cried, +forgetting his manners. + +“It would not help you any,” I said, “if I were to go into details +about this unfortunate matter. Suffice it to say that my information is +positive and precise--that it could hardly be more so.” + +There was a long silence. He sat with eyes rivetted upon me. “What is +this disease?” he demanded, at last. + +I named it, and then again there was a pause. “How long has this--this +possibility of infection existed?” + +“Ever since her marriage, nearly eighteen months ago.” + +That told him a good part of the story. I felt his look boring me +through. Was I a mad woman? Or some new kind of blackmailer? Or, was +I, possibly, a Claire? I was grateful for my forty-cent bonnet and my +forty-seven years. + +“Naturally,” he said at length, “this information startles me.” + +“When you have thought it over,” I responded, “you will realise that no +possible motive could bring me here but concern for the welfare of my +friend.” + +He took a few moments to consider. “That may be true, madame, but let me +add that when you say you KNOW this----” + +He stopped. “I MEAN that I know it,” I said, and stopped in turn. + +“Has Mrs. van Tuiver herself any idea of this situation?” + +“None whatever. On the contrary, she was assured before her marriage +that no such possibility existed.” + +Again I felt him looking through me, but I left him to make what he +could of my information. “Doctor,” I continued, “I presume there is +no need to point out to a man in your position the seriousness of this +matter, both to the mother and to the child.” + +“Certainly there is not.” + +“I assume that you are familiar with the precautions that have to be +taken with regard to the eyes of the child?” + +“Certainly, madame.” This with just a touch of HAUTEUR, and then, +suddenly: “Are you by any chance a nurse?” + +“No,” I replied, “but many years ago I was forced by tragedy in my +own family to realise the seriousness of the venereal peril. So when I +learned this fact about my friend, my first thought was that you should +be informed of it. I trust that you will appreciate my position.” + +“Certainly, madame, certainly,” he made haste to say. “You are quite +right, and you may rest assured that everything will be done that our +best knowledge directs. I only regret that the information did not come +to me sooner.” + +“It only came to me about an hour ago,” I said, as I rose to leave. “The +blame, therefore, must rest upon another person.” + +I needed to say no more. He bowed me politely out, and I walked down +the street, and realised that I was restless and wretched. I wandered +at random for a while, trying to think what else I could do, for my own +peace of mind, if not for Sylvia’s welfare. I found myself inventing one +worry after another. Dr. Overton had not said just when he was going, +and suppose she were to need someone at once? Or suppose something were +to happen to him--if he were to be killed upon the long train-journey? I +was like a mother who has had a terrible dream about her child--she must +rush and fling her arms about the child. I realised that I wanted to see +Sylvia! + +She had begged me to come; and I was worn out and had been urged by the +office to take a rest. Suddenly I bolted into a store, and telephoned +the railroad station about trains to Southern Florida. I hailed a +taxi-cab, rode to my home post-haste, and flung a few of my belongings +into a bag and the waiting cab sped with me to the ferry. In little +more than two hours after Claire had told me the dreadful tidings, I was +speeding on my way to Sylvia. + +11. From a train-window I had once beheld a cross-section of America +from West to East; now I beheld another from North to South. In the +afternoon were the farms and country-homes of New Jersey; and then in +the morning endless wastes of wilderness, and straggling fields of +young corn and tobacco; turpentine forests, with half-stripped negroes +working, and a procession of “depots,” with lanky men chewing tobacco, +and negroes basking in the blazing sun. Then another night, and there +was the pageant of Florida: palmettos, and other trees of which one had +seen pictures in the geography books; stretches of vine-tangled swamps, +where one looked for alligators; orange-groves in blossom, and gardens +full of flowers beyond imagining. Every hour, of course, it got hotter; +I was not, like Sylvia, used to it, and whenever the train stopped I sat +by the open window, mopping the perspiration from my face. + +We were due at Miami in the afternoon; but there was a freight-train +off the track ahead of us, and so for three hours I sat chafing with +impatience, worrying the conductor with futile questions. I had to make +connections at Miami with a train which ran to the last point on the +mainland, where the construction-work over the keys was going forward. +And if I missed that last train, I would have to wait in Miami till +morning. I had better wait there, anyhow, the conductor argued; but I +insisted that my friends, to whom I had telegraphed two days before, +would meet me with a launch and take me to their place that night. + +We got in half an hour late for the other train; but this was the South, +I discovered, and they had waited for us. I shifted my bag and myself +across the platform, and we moved on. But then another problem arose; we +were running into a storm. It came with great suddenness; one minute +all was still, with a golden sunset, and the next it was so dark that I +could barely see the palm-trees, bent over, swaying madly--like people +with arms stretched out, crying in distress. I could hear the roaring +of the wind above that of the train, and I asked the conductor in +consternation if this could be a hurricane. It was not the season for +hurricanes, he replied; but it was “some storm, all right,” and I would +not find any boat to take me to the keys until it was over. + +It was absurd of me to be nervous, I kept telling myself; but there was +something in me that cried out to be there, to be there! I got out +of the train, facing what I refrain from calling a hurricane out of +deference to local authority. It was all I could do to keep from being +blown across the station-platform, and I was drenched with the spray +and bewildered by the roaring of the waves that beat against the pier +beyond. Inside the station, I questioned the agent. The launch of the +van Tuivers had not been in that day; if it had been on the way, it must +have sought shelter somewhere. My telegram to Mrs. van Tuiver had been +received two days before, and delivered by a boatman whom they employed +for that purpose. Presumably, therefore, I would be met. I asked how +long this gale was apt to last; the answer was from one to three days. + +Then I asked about shelter for the night. This was a “jumping-off” + place, said the agent, with barracks and shanties for a +construction-gang; there were saloons, and what was called a hotel, but +it wouldn’t do for a lady. I pleaded that I was not fastidious--being +anxious to nullify the effect which the name van Tuiver had produced. +But the agent would have it that the place was unfit for even a Western +farmer’s wife; and as I was not anxious to take the chance of being +blown overboard in the darkness, I spent the night on one of the benches +in the station. I lay, listening to the incredible clamour of wind and +waves, feeling the building quiver, and wondering if each gust might not +blow it away. + +I was out at dawn, the force of the wind having abated somewhat by that +time. I saw before me a waste of angry foam-strewn water, with no sign +of any craft upon it. Late in the morning came the big steamer which +ran to Key West, in connection with the railroad; it made a difficult +landing, and I interviewed the captain, with the idea of bribing him to +take me to my destination. But he had his schedule, which neither storms +nor the name of van Tuiver could alter. Besides, he pointed out, he +could not land me at their place, as his vessel drew too much water to +get anywhere near; and if he landed me elsewhere, I should be no better +off, “If your friends are expecting you, they’ll come here,” he said, +“and their launch can travel when nothing else can.” + +To pass the time I went to inspect the viaduct of the railway-to-be. The +first stretch was completed, a long series of concrete arches, running +out, apparently, into the open sea. It was one of the engineering +wonders of the world, but I fear I did not appreciate it. Towards +mid-afternoon I made out a speck of a boat over the water, and my +friend, the station-agent, remarked, “There’s your launch.” + +I expressed my amazement that they should have ventured out in such +weather. I had had in mind the kind of tiny open craft that one hears +making day and night hideous at summer-resorts; but when the “Merman” + drew near, I realized afresh what it was to be the guest of a +multi-millionaire. She was about fifty feet long, a vision of polished +brass and shining, new-varnished cedar. She rammed her shoulder into the +waves and flung them contemptuously to one side; her cabin was tight, +dry as the saloon of a liner. + +Three men emerged on deck to assist in the difficult process of making a +landing. One of them sprang to the dock, and confronting me, inquired +if I was Mrs. Abbott. He explained that they had set out to meet me the +previous afternoon, but had had to take refuge behind one of the keys. + +“How is Mrs. van Tuiver?” I asked, quickly. + +“She is well.” + +“I don’t suppose--the baby----” I hinted. + +“No, ma’am, not yet,” said the man; and after that I felt interested in +what he had to say about the storm and its effects. We could return at +once, it seemed, if I did not mind being pitched about. + +“How long does it take?” I asked. + +“Three hours, in weather like this. It’s about fifty miles.” + +“But then it will be dark,” I objected. + +“That won’t matter, ma’am--we have plenty of light of our own. We shan’t +have trouble, unless the wind rises, and there’s a chain of keys all the +way, where we can get shelter if it does. The worst you have to fear is +spending a night on board.” + +I reflected that I could not well be more uncomfortable than I had been +the previous night, so I voted for a start. There was mail and some +supplies to be put on board; then I made a spring for the deck, as +it surged up towards me on a rising wave, and in a moment more the +cabin-door had shut behind me, and I was safe and snug, in the midst +of leather and mahogany and electric-lighted magnificence. Through the +heavy double windows I saw the dock swing round behind us, and saw the +torrents of green spray sweep over us and past. I grasped at the seat to +keep myself from being thrown forward, and then grasped behind, to keep +from going in that direction. I had a series of sensations as of +an elevator stopping suddenly--and then I draw the curtains of the +“Merman’s” cabin, and invite the reader to pass by. This is Sylvia’s +story, and not mine, and it is of no interest what happened to me during +that trip. I will only remind the reader that I had lived my life in the +far West, and there were some things I could not have foreseen. + +12. “We are there, ma’am,” I heard one of the boatmen say, and I +realised vaguely that the pitching had ceased. He helped me to sit up, +and I saw the search-light of the craft sweeping the shore of an island. +“It passes off ‘most as quick as it comes, ma’am,” added my supporter, +and for this I murmured feeble thanks. + +We came to a little bay, where the power was shut off, and we glided +towards the shore. There was a boat-house, a sort of miniature dry-dock, +with a gate which closed behind us. I had visions of Sylvia waiting to +meet me, but apparently our arrival had not been noted, and for this I +was grateful. There were seats in the boat-house, and I sank into one, +and asked the man to wait a few minutes while I recovered myself. When I +got up and went to the house, what I found made me quickly forget that I +had such a thing as a body. + +There was a bright moon, I remember, and I could see the long, low +bungalow, with windows gleaming through the palm-trees. A woman’s figure +emerged from the house and came down the white shell-path to meet me. My +heart leaped. My beloved! + +But then I saw it was the English maid, whom I had come to know in New +York; I saw, too, that her face was alight with excitement. “Oh, my +lady!” she cried. “The baby’s come!” + +It was like a blow in the face. “_What?_” I gasped. + +“Came early this morning. A girl.” + +“But--I thought it wasn’t till next week!” + +“I know, but it’s here. In that terrible storm, when we thought the +house was going to be washed away! Oh, my lady, it’s the loveliest +baby!” + +I had presence of mind enough to try to hide my dismay. The +semi-darkness was a fortunate thing for me. “How is the mother?” I +asked. + +“Splendid. She’s asleep now.” + +“And the child?” + +“Oh! Such a dear you never saw!” + +“And it’s all right?” + +“It’s just the living image of its mother! You shall see!” + +We moved towards the house, slowly, while I got my thoughts together. +“Dr. Perrin is here?” I asked. + +“Yes. He’s gone to his place to sleep.” + +“And the nurse?” + +“She’s with the child. Come this way.” + +We went softly up the steps of the veranda. All the rooms opened upon +it, and we entered one of them, and by the dim-shaded light I saw a +white-clad woman bending over a crib. “Miss Lyman, this is Mrs. Abbott,” + said the maid. + +The nurse straightened up. “Oh! so you got here! And just at the right +time!” + +“God grant it may be so!” I thought to myself. “So this is the child!” I +said, and bent over the crib. The nurse turned up the light for me. + +It is the form in which the miracle of life becomes most apparent to us, +and dull indeed must be he who can encounter it without being stirred +to the depths. To see, not merely new life come into the world, but life +which has been made by ourselves, or by those we love--life that is a +mirror and copy of something dear to us! To see this tiny mite of warm +and living flesh, and to see that it was Sylvia! To trace each beloved +lineament, so much alike, and yet so different--half a portrait and +half a caricature, half sublime and half ludicrous! The comical +little imitation of her nose, with each dear little curve, with even +a remainder of the tiny groove underneath the tip, and the tiny +corresponding dimple underneath the chin! The soft silken fuzz which +was some day to be Sylvia’s golden glory! The delicate, sensitive lips, +which were some day to quiver with feeling! I gazed at them and saw them +moving, I saw the breast moving--and a wave of emotion swept over me, +and the tears half-blinded me as I knelt. + +But I could not forget the reason for my coming. It meant little that +the child was alive and seemingly well; I was not dealing with a disease +which, like syphilis, starves and deforms in the very womb. The little +one was asleep, but I moved the light so as to examine its eyelids. Then +I turned to the nurse and asked: “Miss Lyman, doesn’t it seem to you the +eyelids are a trifle inflamed?” + +“Why, I hadn’t noticed it,” she answered. + +“Were the eyes washed?” I inquired. + +“I washed the baby, of course--” + +“I mean the eyes especially. The doctor didn’t drop anything into them?” + +“I don’t think he considered it necessary.” + +“It’s an important precaution,” I replied; “there are always +possibilities of infection.” + +“Possibly,” said the other. “But you know, we did not expect this. Dr. +Overton was to be here in three or four days.” + +“Dr. Perrin is asleep?” I asked. + +“Yes. He was up all last night.” + +“I think I will have to ask you to waken him,” I said. + +“Is it as serious as that?” she inquired, anxiously, having sensed some +of the emotion I was trying to conceal. + +“It might be very serious,” I said. “I really ought to have a talk with +the doctor.” + +13. The nurse went out, and I drew up a chair and sat by the crib, +watching the infant go back to sleep. I was glad to be alone, to have a +chance to get myself together. But suddenly I heard a rustle of skirts +in the doorway behind me, and turned and saw a white-clad figure; an +elderly gentlewoman, slender and fragile, grey-haired and rather pale, +wearing a soft dressing-gown. Aunt Varina! + +I rose. “This must be Mrs. Abbott,” she said. Oh, these soft, caressing +Southern voices, that cling to each syllable as a lover to a hand at +parting. + +She was a very prim and stately little lady, and I think she did not +intend to shake hands; but I felt pretty certain that under her coating +of formality, she was eager for a chance to rhapsodize. “Oh, what a +lovely child!” I cried; and instantly she melted. + +“You have seen our babe!” she exclaimed; and I could not help smiling. A +few months ago, “the little stranger,” and now “our babe”! + +She bent over the cradle, with her dear old sentimental, romantic soul +in her eyes. For a minute or two she quite forgot me; then, looking up, +she murmured, “It is as wonderful to me as if it were my own!” + +“All of us who love Sylvia feel that,” I responded. + +She rose, and suddenly remembering hospitality, asked me as to my +present needs. Then she said, “I must go and see to sending some +telegrams.” + +“Telegrams?” I inquired. + +“Yes. Think what this news will mean to dear Douglas! And to Major +Castleman!” + +“You haven’t informed them?” + +“We couldn’t send any smaller boat on account of the storm. We must +telegraph Dr. Overton also, you understand.” + +“To tell him not to come?” I ventured. “But don’t you think, Mrs. Tuis, +that he may wish to come anyhow?” + +“Why should he wish that?” + +“I’m not sure, but--I think he might.” How I longed for a little of +Sylvia’s skill in social lying! “Every newly-born infant ought to be +examined by a specialist, you know; there may be a particular _régime,_ +a diet for the mother--one cannot say.” + +“Dr. Perrin didn’t consider it necessary.” + +“I am going to have a talk with Dr. Perrin at once,” I said. + +I saw a troubled look in her eyes. “You don’t mean you think there’s +anything the matter?” + +“No--no,” I lied. “But I’m sure you ought to wait before you have the +launch go. Please do.” + +“If you insist,” she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just +a touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and +one--well, possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the +ones that came were: “Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting.” + +I was too polite to offer the suggestion that “dear Douglas” might be +finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching +on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor. + +14. “How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin. He was in his +dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, +but he replied, “It’s pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two +new faces!” + +That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of +sleep. I tried to meet his mood. “Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells +me that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won’t mind +regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I’ve had +to help bring others into the world.” + +“All right,” he smiled. “We’ll consider you qualified. What is the +matter?” + +“I wanted to ask you about the child’s eyes. It is a wise precaution +to drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible +infection.” + +I waited for my answer. “There have been no signs of any sort of +infection in this case,” he said, at last. + +“Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You +have not taken the precaution?” + +“No, madam.” + +“You have some of the drug, of course?” + +Again there was a pause. “No, madam, I fear that I have not.” + +I winced, involuntarily. I could not hide my distress. “Dr. Perrin,” I +exclaimed, “you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to +provide something so essential!” + +There was nothing left of the little man’s affability now. “In the first +place,” he said, “I must remind you that I did not come to attend a +confinement case. I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver’s condition up +_to_ the time of confinement.” + +“But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!” + +“Yes, to be sure.” + +“And you didn’t have any nitrate of silver!” + +“Madam,” he said, stiffly, “there is no use for this drug except in one +contingency.” + +“I know,” I cried, “but it is an important precaution. It is the +practice to use it in all maternity hospitals.” + +“Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what +the practice is.” + +So there we were, at a deadlock. There was silence for a space. + +“Would you mind sending for the drug?” I asked, at last. + +“I presume,” he said, with _hauteur,_ “it will do no harm to have it on +hand.” + +I was aware of an elderly lady watching us, with consternation written +upon every sentimental feature. “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “if Mrs. Tuis will +pardon me, I think I ought to speak with you alone.” The nurse hastily +withdrew; and I saw the elderly lady draw herself up with terrible +dignity--and then suddenly quail, and turn and follow the nurse. + +I told the little man what I knew. After he had had time to get over +his consternation, he said that fortunately there did not seem to be any +sign of trouble. + +“There does seem so to me,” I replied. “It may be only my imagination, +but I think the eyelids are inflamed.” + +I held the baby for him, while he made an examination. He admitted that +there seemed to be ground for uneasiness. His professional dignity was +now gone, and he was only too glad to be human. + +“Dr. Perrin,” I said, “there is only one thing we can do--to get some +nitrate of silver at the earliest possible moment. Fortunately, the +launch is here.” + +“I will have it start at once,” he said. “It will have to go to Key +West.” + +“And how long will that take?” + +“It depends upon the sea. In good weather it takes us eight hours to go +and return.” I could not repress a shudder. The child might be blind in +eight hours! + +But there was no time to be wasted in foreboding. “About Dr. Overton,” + I said. “Don’t you think he had better come?” But I ventured to add the +hint that Mr. van Tuiver would hardly wish expense to be considered in +such an emergency; and in the end, I persuaded the doctor not merely +to telegraph for the great surgeon, but to ask a hospital in Atlanta to +send the nearest eye-specialist by the first train. + +We called back Mrs. Tuis, and I apologized abjectly for my presumption, +and Dr. Perrin announced that he thought he ought to see Dr. Overton, +and another doctor as well. I saw fear leap into Aunt Varina’s eyes. +“Oh, what is it?” she cried. “What is the matter with our babe?” + +I helped the doctor to answer polite nothings to all her questions. “Oh, +the poor, dear lady!” I thought to myself. The poor, dear lady! What a +tearing away of veils and sentimental bandages was written in her book +of fate for that night! + +15. I find myself lingering over these preliminaries, dreading the +plunge into the rest of my story. We spent our time hovering over the +child’s crib, and in two or three hours the little eyelids had become so +inflamed that there could no longer be any doubt what was happening. We +applied alternate hot and cold cloths; we washed the eyes in a solution +of boric acid, and later, in our desperation, with bluestone. But we +were dealing with the virulent gonococcus, and we neither expected nor +obtained much result from these measures. In a couple of hours more the +eyes were beginning to exude pus, and the poor infant was wailing in +torment. + +“Oh, what can it be? Tell me what is the matter?” cried Mrs. Tuis. She +sought to catch the child in her arms, and when I quickly prevented her, +she turned upon me in anger. “What do you mean?” + +“The child must be quiet,” I said. + +“But I wish to comfort it!” And when I still insisted, she burst out +wildly: “What _right_ have you?” + +“Mrs. Tuis,” I said, gently, “it is possible the infant may have a very +serious infection. If so, you would be apt to catch it.” + +She answered with a hysterical cry: “My precious innocent! Do you think +that I would be afraid of anything it could have?” + +“You may not be afraid, but we are. We should have to take care of you, +and one case is more than enough.” + +Suddenly she clutched me by the arm. “Tell me what this awful thing is! +I demand to know!” + +“Mrs. Tuis,” said the doctor, interfering, “we are not yet sure what the +trouble is, we only wish to take precautions. It is really imperative +that you should not handle this child or even go near it. There is +nothing you can possibly do.” + +She was willing to take orders from him; he spoke the same dialect +as herself, and with the same quaint stateliness. A charming little +Southern gentleman--I could realise how Douglas van Tuiver had “picked +him out for his social qualities.” In the old-fashioned Southern medical +college where he had got his training, I suppose they had taught him the +old-fashioned idea of gonorrhea. Now he was acquiring our extravagant +modern notions in the grim school of experience! + +It was necessary to put the nurse on her guard as to the risks we were +running. We should have had concave glasses to protect our eyes, and we +spent part of our time washing our hands in bichloride solution. + +“Mrs. Abbott, what is it?” whispered the woman. + +“It has a long name,” I replied--“_opthalmia neonatorum._” + +“And what has caused it?” + +“The original cause,” I responded, “is a man.” I was not sure if that +was according to the ethics of the situation, but the words came. + +Before long the infected eye-sockets were two red and yellow masses of +inflammation, and the infant was screaming like one of the damned. We +had to bind up its eyes; I was tempted to ask the doctor to give it an +opiate for fear lest it should scream itself into convulsions. Then +as poor Mrs. Tuis was pacing the floor, wringing her hands and sobbing +hysterically, Dr. Perrin took me to one side and said: “I think she will +have to be told.” + +The poor, poor lady! + +“She might as well understand now as later,” he continued. “She will +have to help keep the situation from the mother.” + +“Yes,” I said, faintly; and then, “Who shall tell her?” + +“I think,” suggested the doctor, “she might prefer to be told by a +woman.” + +So I shut my lips together and took the distracted lady gently by +the arm and led her to the door. We stole like two criminals down the +veranda, and along the path to the beach, and near the boathouse we +stopped, and I began. + +“Mrs. Tuis, you may remember a circumstance which your niece mentioned +to me--that just before her marriage she urged you to have certain +inquiries made as to Mr. van Tuiver’s health, his fitness for marriage?” + +Never shall I forget her face at that moment. “Sylvia told you that!” + +“The inquiries were made,” I went on, “but not carefully enough, it +seems. Now you behold the consequence of this negligence.” + +I saw her blank stare. I added: “The one to pay for it is the child.” + +“You--you mean--” she stammered, her voice hardly a whisper. “Oh--it is +impossible!” Then, with a flare of indignation: “Do you realise what you +are implying--that Mr. van Tuiver--” + +“There is no question of implying,” I said, quietly. “It is the facts we +have to face now, and you will have to help us to face them.” + +She cowered and swayed before me, hiding her face in her hands. I heard +her sobbing and murmuring incoherent cries to her god. I took the poor +lady’s hand, and bore with her as long as I could, until, being at the +end of my patience with prudery and purity and chivalry, and all the +rest of the highfalutin romanticism of the South, I said: “Mrs Tuis, it +is necessary that you should get yourself together. You have a serious +duty before you--that you owe both to Sylvia and her child.” + +“What is it?” she whispered. The word “duty” had motive power for her. + +“At all hazards, Sylvia must be kept in ignorance of the calamity for +the present. If she were to learn of it it would quite possibly throw +her into a fever, and cost her life or the child’s. You must not make +any sound that she can hear, and you must not go near her until you have +completely mastered your emotions.” + +“Very well,” she murmured. She was really a brave little body, but I, +not knowing her, and thinking only of the peril, was cruel in hammering +things into her consciousness. Finally, I left her, seated upon the +steps of the deserted boat-house, rocking back and forth and sobbing +softly to herself--one of the most pitiful figures it has ever been my +fortune to encounter in my pilgrimage through a world of sentimentality +and incompetence. + +16. I went back to the house, and because we feared the sounds of the +infant’s crying might carry, we hung blankets before the doors and +windows of the room, and sat in the hot enclosure, shuddering, silent, +grey with fear. After an hour or two, Mrs. Tuis rejoined us, stealing in +and seating herself at one side of the room, staring from one to another +of us with wide eyes of fright. + +By the time the first signs of dawn appeared, the infant had cried +itself into a state of exhaustion. The faint light that got into the +room revealed the three of us, listening to the pitiful whimpering. I +was faint with weakness, but I had to make an effort and face the worst +ordeal of all. There came a tapping at the door--the maid, to say that +Sylvia was awake and had heard of my arrival and wished to see me. I +might have put off our meeting for a while, on the plea of exhaustion, +but I preferred to have it over with, and braced myself and went slowly +to her room. + +In the doorway I paused for an instant to gaze at her. She was +exquisite, lying there with the flush of sleep still upon her, and the +ecstasy of her great achievement in her face. I fled to her, and we +caught each other in our arms. “Oh, Mary, Mary! I’m so glad you’ve +come!” And then: “Oh, Mary, isn’t it the loveliest baby!” + +“Perfectly glorious!” I exclaimed. + +“Oh, I’m so happy--so happy as I never dreamed! I’ve no words to tell +you about it.” + +“You don’t need any words--I’ve been through it,” I said. + +“Oh, but she’s so _beautiful!_ Tell me, honestly, isn’t that really so?” + +“My dear,” I said, “she is like you.” + +“Mary,” she went on, half whispering, “I think it solves all my +problems--all that I wrote you about. I don’t believe I shall ever +be unhappy again. I can’t believe that such a thing has really +happened--that I’ve been given such a treasure. And she’s my own! I can +watch her little body grow and help to make it strong and beautiful! I +can help mould her little mind--see it opening up, one chamber of wonder +after another! I can teach her all the things I have had to grope so to +get!” + +“Yes,” I said, trying to speak with conviction. I added, hastily: “I’m +glad you don’t find motherhood disappointing.” + +“Oh, it’s a miracle!” she exclaimed. “A woman who could be dissatisfied +with anything afterwards would be an ingrate!” She paused, then added: +“Mary, now she’s here in flesh, I feel she’ll be a bond between Douglas +and me. He must see her rights, her claim upon life, as he couldn’t see +mine.” + +I assented gravely. So that was the thing she was thinking most about--a +bond between her husband and herself! A moment later the nurse appeared +in the doorway, and Sylvia set up a cry: “My baby! Where’s my baby? I +want to see my baby!” + +“Sylvia, dear,” I said, “there’s something about the baby that has to be +explained.” + +Instantly she was alert. “What is the matter?” + +I laughed. “Nothing, dear, that amounts to anything. But the little +one’s eyes are inflamed--that is to say, the lids. It’s something that +happens to newly-born infants.” + +“Well, then?” she said. + +“Nothing, only the doctor’s had to put some salve on them, and they +don’t look very pretty.” + +“I don’t mind that, if it’s all right.” + +“But we’ve had to put a bandage over them, and it looks forbidding. Also +the child is apt to cry.” + +“I must see her at once!” she exclaimed. + +“Just now she’s asleep, so don’t make us disturb her.” + +“But how long will this last?” + +“Not very long. Meantime you must be sensible and not mind. It’s +something I made the doctor do, and you mustn’t blame me, or I’ll be +sorry I came to you.” + +“You dear thing,” she said, and put her hand in mine. And then, +suddenly: “Why did you take it into your head to come, all of a sudden?” + +“Don’t ask me,” I smiled. “I have no excuse. I just got homesick and had +to see you.” + +“It’s perfectly wonderful that you should be here now,” she declared. +“But you look badly. Are you tired?” + +“Yes, dear,” I said. (Such a difficult person to deceive!) “To tell the +truth, I’m pretty nearly done up. You see, I was caught in the storm, +and I was desperately sea-sick.” + +“Why, you poor dear! Why didn’t you go to sleep?” + +“I didn’t want to sleep. I was too much excited by everything. I came to +see one Sylvia and I found two!” + +“Isn’t it absurd,” she cried, “how she looks like me? Oh, I want to see +her again. How long will it be before I can have her?” + +“My dear,” I said, “you mustn’t worry--” + +“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just playing. I’m so happy, I want to squeeze +her in my arms all the time. Just think, Mary, they won’t let me nurse +her, yet--a whole day now! Can that be right?” + +“Nature will take care of that,” I said. + +“Yes, but how can you be sure what Nature means? Maybe it’s what the +child is crying about, and it’s the crying that makes its eyes red.” + +I felt a sudden spasm grip my heart. “No, dear, no,” I said, hastily. +“You must let Dr. Perrin attend to these things, for I’ve just had +to interfere with his arrangements, and he’ll be getting cross pretty +soon.” + +“Oh,” she cried with laughter in her eyes, “you’ve had a scene with him? +I knew you would! He’s so quaint and old-fashioned!” + +“Yes,” I said, “and he talks exactly like your aunt.” + +“Oh! You’ve met her too! I’m missing all the fun!” + +I had a sudden inspiration--one that I was proud of. “My dear girl,” I +said, “maybe _you_ call it fun!” And I looked really agitated. + +“Why, what’s the matter?” she cried. + +“What could you expect?” I asked. “I fear, my dear Sylvia, I’ve shocked +your aunt beyond all hope.” + +“What have you done?” + +“I’ve talked about things I’d no business to--I’ve bossed the learned +doctor--and I’m sure Aunt Varina has guessed I’m not a lady.” + +“Oh, tell me about it!” cried Sylvia, full of delight. + +But I could not keep up the game any longer. “Not now, dear,” I said. +“It’s a long story, and I really am exhausted. I must go and get some +rest.” + +I rose, and she caught my hand, whispering: “I shall be happy, Mary! I +shall be really happy now!” And then I turned and fled, and when I was +out of sight of the doorway, I literally ran. At the other end of the +veranda I sank down upon the steps, and wept softly to myself. + +17. The launch arrived, bringing the nitrate of silver. A solution was +dropped into the baby’s eyes, and then we could do nothing but wait. I +might have lain down and really tried to rest; but the maid came again, +with the announcement that Sylvia was asking for her aunt. Excuses would +have tended to excite her suspicions; so poor Mrs. Tuis had to take her +turn at facing the ordeal, and I had to drill and coach her for it. +I had a vision of the poor lady going in to her niece, and suddenly +collapsing. Then there would begin a cross-examination, and Sylvia would +worm out the truth, and we might have a case of puerperal fever on our +hands. + +This I explained afresh to Mrs. Tuis, having taken her into her own room +and closed the door for that purpose. She clutched me with her shaking +hands and whispered, “Oh, Mrs. Abbott, you will _never_ let Sylvia find +out what caused this trouble?” + +I drew on my reserve supply of patience, and answered, “What I shall +let her find out in the end, I don’t know. We shall be guided by +circumstances, and this is no time to discuss the matter. The point is +now to make sure that you can go in and stay with her, and not let her +get an idea there’s anything wrong.” + +“Oh, but you know how Sylvia reads people!” she cried, in sudden dismay. + +“I’ve fixed it for you,” I said. “I’ve provided something you can be +agitated about.” + +“What is that?” + +“It’s _me._” Then, seeing her look of bewilderment, “You must tell +her that I’ve affronted you, Mrs. Tuis; I’ve outraged your sense of +propriety. You’re indignant with me and you don’t see how you can remain +in the house with me--” + +“Why, Mrs. Abbott!” she exclaimed, in horror. + +“You know it’s truth to some extent,” I said. + +The good lady drew herself up. “Mrs. Abbott, don’t tell me that I have +been so rude--” + +“Dear Mrs. Tuis,” I laughed, “don’t stop to apologize just now. You have +not been lacking in courtesy, but I know how I must seem to you. I am +a Socialist. I have a raw, Western accent, and my hands are big--I’ve +lived on a farm all my life, and done my own work, and even plowed +sometimes. I have no idea of the charms and graces of life that are +everything to you. What is more than that, I am forward, and thrust my +opinions upon other people--” + +She simply could not hear me. She was a-tremble with a new excitement. +Worse even than _opthalmia neonatorum_ was plain speaking to a guest! +“Mrs. Abbott, you humiliate me!” + +Then I spoke harshly, seeing that I would actually have to shock her. +“I assure you, Mrs. Tuis, that if you don’t feel that way about me, it’s +simply because you don’t know the truth. It is not possible that you +would consider me a proper person to visit Sylvia. I don’t believe in +your religion; I don’t believe in anything that you would call religion, +and I argue about it at the least provocation. I deliver violent +harangues on street-corners, and have been arrested during a strike. +I believe in woman’s suffrage, I even argue in approval of +window-smashing. I believe that women ought to earn their own living, +and be independent and free from any man’s control. I am a divorced +woman--I left my husband because I wasn’t happy with him, what’s more, +I believe that any woman has a right to do the same--I’m liable to teach +such ideas to Sylvia, and to urge her to follow them.” + +The poor lady’s eyes were wide and large. “So you see,” I exclaimed, +“you really couldn’t approve of me! Tell her all this; she knows it +already, but she will be horrified, because I have let you and the +doctor find it out!” + +Whereupon Mrs. Tuis started to ascend the pedestal of her dignity. “Mrs. +Abbott, this may be your idea of a jest----” + +“Now come,” I cried, “let me help you fix your hair, and put on just a +wee bit of powder--not enough to be noticed, you understand----” + +I took her to the wash-stand, and poured out some cold water for her, +and saw her bathe her eyes and face, and dry them, and braid her thin +grey hair. While with a powder puff I was trying deftly to conceal the +ravages of the night’s crying, the dear lady turned to me, and whispered +in a trembling voice, “Mrs. Abbott, you really don’t mean that dreadful +thing you said just now?” + +“Which dreadful thing, Mrs. Tuis?” + +“That you would tell Sylvia it could possibly be right for her to leave +her husband?” + +18. In the course of the day we received word that Dr. Gibson, the +specialist for whom we had telegraphed, was on his way. The boat which +brought his message took back a letter from Dr. Perrin to Douglas van +Tuiver, acquainting him with the calamity which had befallen. We +had talked it over and agreed that there was nothing to be gained by +telegraphing the information. We did not wish any hint of the child’s +illness to leak into the newspapers. + +I did not envy the great man the hour when he read that letter; although +I knew that the doctor had not failed to assure him that the victim of +his misdeeds should be kept in ignorance. Already the little man +had begun to drop hints to me on this subject. Unfortunate accidents +happened, which were not always to be blamed upon the husband, nor was +it a thing to contemplate lightly, the breaking up of a family. I gave +a non-committal answer, and changed the subject by asking the doctor +not to mention my presence in the household. If by any chance van Tuiver +were to carry his sorrows to Claire, I did not want my name brought up. + +We managed to prevent Sylvia’s seeing the child that day and night, and +the next morning came the specialist. He held out no hope of saving any +remnant of the sight, but the child might be so fortunate as to escape +disfigurement--it did not appear that the eyeballs were destroyed, as +happens generally in these cases. This bit of consolation I still have: +that little Elaine, who sits by me as I write, has left in her pupils a +faint trace of the soft red-brown--just enough to remind us of what we +have lost, and keep fresh in our minds the memory of these sorrows. If +I wish to see what her eyes might have been, I look above my head to the +portrait of Sylvia’s noble ancestress, a copy made by a “tramp artist” + in Castleman County, and left with me by Sylvia. + +There was the question of the care of the mother--the efforts to stay +the ravages of the germ in the tissues broken and weakened by the strain +of child-birth. We had to invent excuses for the presence of the new +doctor--and yet others for the presence of Dr. Overton, who came a day +later. And then the problem of the nourishing of the child. It would +be a calamity to have to put it upon the bottle, but on the other +hand, there were many precautions necessary to keep the infection from +spreading. + +I remember vividly the first time that the infant was fed: all of us +gathered round, with matter-of-course professional air, as if these +elaborate hygienic ceremonies were the universal custom when newly-born +infants first taste their mothers’ milk. Standing in the background, I +saw Sylvia start with dismay, as she noted how pale and thin the poor +little one had become. It was hunger that caused the whimpering, so the +nurse declared, busying herself in the meantime to keep the tiny +hands from the mother’s face. The latter sank back and closed her +eyes--nothing, it seemed, could prevail over the ecstasy of that first +marvellous sensation, but afterwards she asked that I might stay with +her, and as soon as the others were gone, she unmasked the batteries +of her suspicion upon me. “Mary! What in the world has happened to my +baby?” + +So began a new stage in the campaign of lying. “It’s nothing, nothing. +Just some infection. It happens frequently.” + +“But what is the cause of it?” + +“We can’t tell. It may be a dozen things. There are so many possible +sources of infection about a birth. It’s not a very sanitary thing, you +know.” + +“Mary! Look me in the face!” + +“Yes, dear?” + +“You’re not deceiving me?” + +“How do you mean?” + +“I mean--it’s not really something serious? All these doctors--this +mystery--this vagueness!” + +“It was your husband, my dear Sylvia, who sent the doctors--it was +his stupid man’s way of being attentive.” (This at Aunt Varina’s +suggestion--the very subtle lady!). + +“Mary, I’m worried. My baby looks so badly, and I feel something is +wrong.” + +“My dear Sylvia,” I chided, “if you worry about it you will simply be +harming the child. Your milk may go wrong.” + +“Oh, that’s just it! That’s why you would not tell me the truth!” + +We persuade ourselves that there are certain circumstances under which +lying is necessary, but always when we come to the lies we find them +an insult to the soul. Each day I perceived that I was getting in +deeper--and each day I watched Aunt Varina and the doctor busied to push +me deeper yet. + +There had come a telegram from Douglas van Tuiver to Dr. Perrin, +revealing the matter which stood first in that gentleman’s mind. +“I expect no failure in your supply of the necessary tact.” By this +vagueness we perceived that he too was trusting no secrets to telegraph +operators. Yet for us it was explicit and illuminative. It recalled the +tone of quiet authority I had noted in his dealings with his chauffeur, +and it sent me off by myself for a while to shake my fist at all +husbands. + +19. Mrs. Tuis, of course, had no need of any warning from the head +of the house. The voice of her ancestors guided her in all such +emergencies. The dear lady had got to know me quite well, at the more or +less continuous dramatic rehearsals we conducted; and now and then her +trembling hands would seek to fasten me in the chains of decency. “Mrs. +Abbott, think what a scandal there would be if Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver +were to break with her husband!” + +“Yes, my dear Mrs. Tuis-but on the other hand, think what might happen +if she were kept in ignorance in this matter. She might bear another +child.” + +I got a new realization of the chasms that lay between us. “Who are we,” + she whispered, “to interfere in these sacred matters? It is of souls, +Mrs. Abbot, and not bodies, that the Kingdom of Heaven is made.” + +I took a minute or so to get my breath, and then I said, “What generally +happens in these cases is that God afflicts the woman with permanent +barrenness.” + +The old lady bowed her head, and I saw the tears falling into her lap. +“My poor Sylvia!” she moaned, only half aloud. + +There was a silence; I too almost wept. And finally, Aunt Varina +looked up at me, her faded eyes full of pleading. “It is hard for me to +understand such ideas as yours. You must tell me-can you really believe +that it would help Sylvia to know this-this dreadful secret?” + +“It would help her in many ways,” I said. “She will be more careful of +her health-she will follow the doctor’s orders---” + +How quickly came the reply! “I will stay with her, and see that she does +that! I will be with her day and night.” + +“But are you going to keep the secret from those who attend her? Her +maid--the child’s nurses--everyone who might by any chance use the same +towel, or a wash-basin, or a drinking-glass?” + +“Surely you exaggerate the danger! If that were true, more people would +meet with these accidents!” + +“The doctors,” I said, “estimate that about ten per cent. of cases of +this disease are innocently acquired.” + +“Oh, these modern doctors!” she cried. “I never heard of such ideas!” + +I could not help smiling. “My dear Mrs. Tuis, what do you imagine you +know about the prevalence of gonorrhea? Consider just one fact--that I +heard a college professor state publicly that in his opinion eighty-five +per cent. of the men students at his university were infected with some +venereal disease. And that is the pick of our young manhood--the sons of +our aristocracy!” + +“Oh, that can’t be!” she exclaimed. “People would know of it! + +“Who are ‘people’? The boys in your family know of it--if you could get +them to tell you. My two sons studied at a State university, and they +would bring me home what they heard--the gossip, the slang, the +horrible obscenity. Fourteen fellows in one dormitory using the same +bathroom--and on the wall you saw a row of fourteen syringes! And they +told that on themselves, it was the joke of the campus. They call the +disease a ‘dose’; and a man’s not supposed to be worthy the respect +of his fellows until he’s had his ‘dose’--the sensible thing is to get +several, till he can’t get any more. They think it’s ‘no worse than a +bad cold’; that’s the idea they get from the ‘clap-doctors,’ and the +women of the street who educate our sons in sex matters.” + +“Oh, spare me, spare me!” cried Mrs. Tuis. “I beg you not to force these +horrible details upon me!” + +“That is what is going on among our boys,” I said. “The Castleman boys, +the Chilton boys! It’s going on in every fraternity house, every ‘prep +school’ dormitory in America. And the parents refuse to know, just as +you do!” + +“But what could I possibly do, Mrs. Abbott?” + +“I don’t know, Mrs. Tuis. What _I_ am going to do is to teach the young +girls.” + +She whispered, aghast, “You would rob the young girls of their +innocence. Why, with their souls full of these ideas their faces would +soon be as hard--oh, you horrify me!” + +“My daughter’s face is not hard,” I said. “And I taught her. Stop and +think, Mrs. Tuis--ten thousand blind children every year! A hundred +thousand women under the surgeon’s knife! Millions of women going to +pieces with slowly creeping diseases of which they never hear the names! +I say, let us cry this from the housetops, until every woman knows--and +until every man knows that she knows, and that unless he can prove that +he is clean he will lose her! That is the remedy, Mrs. Tuis!” + +Poor dear lady! I got up and went away, leaving her there, with clenched +hands and trembling lips. I suppose I seemed to her like the mad women +who were just then rising up to horrify the respectability of England--a +phenomenon of Nature too portentous to be comprehended, or even to be +contemplated, by a gentlewoman of the South! + +20. There came in due course a couple of letters from Douglas van +Tuiver. The one to Aunt Varina, which was shown to me, was vague and +cautious--as if the writer were uncertain how much this worthy lady +knew. He merely mentioned that Sylvia was to be spared every particle +of “painful knowledge.” He would wait in great anxiety, but he would not +come, because any change in his plans might set her to questioning. + +The letter to Dr. Perrin was not shown to me; but I judged that it must +have contained more strenuous injunctions. Or had Aunt Varina by any +chance got up the courage to warn the young doctor against me? His +hints, at any rate, became more pointed. He desired me to realize how +awkward it would be for him, if Sylvia were to learn the truth; it would +be impossible to convince Mr. van Tuiver that this knowledge had not +come from the physician in charge. + +“But, Dr. Perrin,” I objected, “it was I who brought the information to +you! And Mr. van Tuiver knows that I am a radical woman; he would not +expect me to be ignorant of such matters.” + +“Mrs. Abbott,” was the response, “it is a grave matter to destroy the +possibility of happiness of a young married couple.” + +However I might dispute his theories, in practice I was doing what he +asked. But each day I was finding the task more difficult; each day it +became more apparent that Sylvia was ceasing to believe me. I realized +at last, with a sickening kind of fright, that she knew I was hiding +something from her. Because she knew me, and knew that I would not do +such a thing lightly, she was terrified. She would lie there, gazing +at me, with a dumb fear in her eyes--and I would go on asseverating +blindly, like an unsuccessful actor before a jeering audience. + +A dozen times she made an effort to break through the barricade of +falsehood; and a dozen times I drove her back, all but crying to her, +“No, No! Don’t ask me!” Until at last, late one night, she caught my +hand and clung to it in a grip I could not break. “Mary! Mary! You must +tell me the _truth!_” + +“Dear girl--” I began. + +“Listen!” she cried. “I know you are deceiving me! I know why--because +I’ll make myself ill. But it won’t do any longer; it’s preying on me, +Mary--I’ve taken to imagining things. So you must tell me the truth!” + +I sat, avoiding her eyes, beaten; and in the pause I could feel her +hands shaking. “Mary, what is it? Is my baby going to die?” + +“No, dear, indeed no!” I cried. + +“Then what?” + +“Sylvia,” I began, as quietly as I could, “the truth is not as bad as +you imagine--” + +“Tell me what it is!” + +“But it is bad, Sylvia. And you must be brave. You must be, for your +baby’s sake.” + +“Make haste!” she cried. + +“The baby,” I said, “may be blind.” + +“Blind!” There we sat, gazing into each other’s eyes, like two statues +of women. But the grasp of her hand tightened, until even my big fist +was hurt. “Blind!” she whispered again. + +“Sylvia,” I rushed on, “it isn’t so bad as it might be! Think--if you +had lost her altogether!” + +“_Blind!_” + +“You will have her always; and you can do things for her--take care of +her. They do wonders for the blind nowadays--and you have the means; to +do everything. Really, you know, blind children are not unhappy--some of +them are happier than other children, I think. They haven’t so much to +miss. Think--” + +“Wait, wait,” she whispered; and again there was silence, and I clung to +her cold hands. + +“Sylvia,” I said, at last, “you have a newly-born infant to nurse, and +its very life depends upon your health now. You cannot let yourself +grieve.” + +“No,” she responded. “No. But, Mary, what caused this?” + +So there was the end of my spell of truth-telling. “I don’t know, dear. +Nobody knows. There might be a thousand things--” + +“Was it born blind?” + +“No.” + +“Then was it the doctor’s fault?” + +“No, it was nobody’s fault. Think of the thousands and tens of thousands +of babies that become blind! It’s a dreadful accident that happens.” So +I went on--possessed with a dread that had been with me for days, that +had kept me awake for hours in the night: Had I, in any of my talks with +Sylvia about venereal disease, mentioned blindness in infants as one +of the consequences? I could not rememher; but now was the time I would +find out! + +She lay there, immovable, like a woman who had died in grief; until at +last I flung my arms about her and whispered, “Sylvia! Sylvia! Please +cry!” + +“I can’t cry!” she whispered, and her voice sounded hard. + +So, after a space, I said, “Then, dear, I think I will have to make you +laugh.” + +“Laugh, Mary?” + +“Yes-I will tell you about the quarrel between Aunt Varina and myself. +You know what times we’ve been having-how I shocked the poor lady?” + +She was looking at me, but her eyes were not seeing me. “Yes, Mary,” she +said, in the same dead tone. + +“Well, that was a game we made for you. It was very funny!” + +“Funny?” + +“Yes! Because I really did shock her-though we started out just to give +you something else to think about!” + +And then suddenly I saw the healing tears begin to come. She could not +weep for her own grief-but she could weep because of what she knew we +two had had to suffer for her! + +21. I went out and told the others what I had done; and Mrs. Tuis +rushed in to her niece and they wept in each other’s arms, and Mrs. Tuis +explained all the mysteries of life by her formula, “the will of the +Lord.” + +Later on came Dr. Perrin, and it was touching to see how Sylvia treated +him. She had, it appeared, conceived the idea that the calamity must be +due to some blunder on his part, and then she had reflected that he was +young, and that chance had thrown upon him a responsibility for which he +had not bargained. He must be reproaching himself bitterly, so she had +to persuade him that it was really not so bad as we were making it-that +a blind child was a great joy to a mother’s soul-in some ways even a +greater joy than a perfectly sound child, because it appealed so to +her protective instinct! I had called Sylvia a shameless payer of +compliments, and now I went away by myself and wept. + +Yet it was true in a way. When the infant was brought in to be nursed +again, how she clung to it, a very picture of the sheltering and +protecting instinct of motherhood! She knew the worst now--her mind was +free, and she could partake of what happiness was allowed her. The child +was hers to love and care for, and she would find ways to atone to it +for the harshness of fate. + +So little by little we got our existence upon a working basis. We lived +a peaceful, routine life, to the music of cocoanut-palms rustling in the +warm breezes which blew incessantly off the Mexican Gulf. Aunt Varina +had, for the time, her undisputed way with the family; her niece +reclined upon the veranda in true Southern lady fashion, and was read +aloud to from books of indisputable respectability. I remember Aunt +Varina selected the “Idylls of the King,” and they two were in a mood +to shed tears over these solemn, sorrowful tales. So it came that the +little one got her name, after a pale and unhappy heroine. + +I remember the long discussions of this point, the family-lore which +Aunt Varina brought forth. It did not seem to her quite the thing to +call a blind child after a member of one’s family. Something strange, +romantic, wistful--yes, Elaine was the name! Mrs. Tuis, it transpired, +had already baptised the infant, in the midst of the agonies and alarms +of its illness. She had called it “Sylvia,” and now she was tremulously +uncertain whether this counted--whether perhaps the higher powers might +object to having to alter their records. But in the end a clergyman +came out from Key West and heard Aunt Varina’s confession, and gravely +concluded that the error might be corrected by a formal ceremony. How +strange it all seemed to me--being carried back two or three hundred +years in the world’s history! But I gave no sign of what was going on in +my rebellious mind. + +22. Dr. Overton on his return to New York, sent a special nurse to take +charge of Sylvia’s case. There was also an infant’s nurse, and both had +been taken into the doctor’s confidence. So now there was an elaborate +conspiracy--no less than five women and two men, all occupied in keeping +a secret from Sylvia. It was a thing so contrary to my convictions that +I was never free from the burden of it for a moment. Was it my duty to +tell her? + +Dr. Perrin no longer referred to the matter--I realised that both he and +Dr. Gibson considered the matter settled. Was it conceivable that anyone +of sound mind could set out, deliberately and in cold blood, to betray +such a secret? But I had maintained all my life the right of woman to +know the truth, and was I to back down now, at the first test of my +convictions? + +When the news reached Douglas van Tuiver that his wife had been informed +of the infant’s blindness, there came a telegram saying that he was +coming. There was much excitement, of course, and Aunt Varina came to +me, in an attempt to secure a definite pledge of silence. When I refused +it, Dr. Perrin came again, and we fought the matter over for the better +part of a day and night. + +He was a polite little gentleman, and he did not tell me that my views +were those of a fanatic, but he said that no woman could see things in +their true proportion, because of her necessary ignorance concerning the +nature of men, and the temptations to which they were exposed. I replied +that I believed I understood these matters thoroughly, and I went on, +quite simply and honestly, to make clear to him that this was so. In +the end my pathetically chivalrous little Southern gentleman admitted +everything I asked. Yes, it was true that these evils were ghastly, and +that they were increasing, and that women were the worst sufferers from +men. There might even be something in my idea that the older women +of the community should devote themselves to this service, making +themselves race-mothers, and helping, not merely in their homes, but in +the schools and churches, to protect and save the future generations. +But all that was in the future, he argued, while here was a case which +had gone so far that “letting in the light” could only blast the life +of two people, making it impossible for a young mother ever again to +tolerate the father of her child. I argued that Sylvia was not of the +hysterical type, but I could not make him agree that it was possible to +predict what the attitude of any woman would be. His ideas were based on +one peculiar experience he had had--a woman patient who had said to him: +“Doctor, I know what is the matter with me, but for God’s sake don’t +let my husband find out that I know, because then I should feel that my +self-respect required me to leave him!” + +23. The Master-of-the-House was coming! You could feel the quiver of +excitement in the air of the place. The boatmen were polishing the +brasses of the launch; the yard-man was raking up the dry strips of palm +from beneath the cocoanut trees; Aunt Varina was ordering new supplies, +and entering into conspiracies with the cook. The nurses asked me +timidly, what was He like, and even Dr. Gibson, a testy old gentleman +who had clashed violently with me on the subject of woman’s suffrage, +and had avoided me ever since as a suspicious character, now came and +confided his troubles. He had sent home for a trunk, and the graceless +express companies had sent it astray. Now he was wondering if it was +necessary for him to journey to Key West and have a suit of dinner +clothes made over night. I told him that I had not sent for any +party-dresses, and that I expected to meet Mr. Douglas van Tuiver at +his dinner-table in plain white linen. His surprise was so great that I +suspected the old gentleman of having wondered whether I meant to retire +to a “second-table” when the Master-of-the-House arrived. + +I went away by myself, seething with wrath. Who was this great one whom +we honoured? Was he an inspired poet, a maker of laws, a discoverer +of truth? He was the owner of an indefinite number of millions of +dollars--that was all, and yet I was expected, because of my awe of him, +to abandon the cherished convictions of my lifetime. The situation +was one that challenged my fighting blood. This was the hour to prove +whether I really meant the things I talked. + +On the morning of the day that van Tuiver was expected, I went early to +Aunt Varina’s room. She was going in the launch, and was in a state of +flustration, occupied in putting on her best false hair. “Mrs. Tuis,” I +said, “I want you to let me go to meet Mr. van Tuiver instead of you.” + +I will not stop to report the good lady’s outcries. I did not care, +I said, whether it was proper, nor did I care whether, as she finally +hinted, it might not be agreeable to Mr. van Tuiver. I was sorry to have +to thrust myself upon him, but I was determined to go, and would let +nothing prevent me. And all at once she yielded, rather surprising me +by the suddenness of it. I suppose she concluded that van Tuiver was the +man to handle me, and the quicker he got at it the better. + +It is a trying thing to deal with the rich and great. If you treat them +as the rest of the world does, you are a tuft-hunter; if you treat them +as the rest of the world pretends to, you are a hypocrite; whereas, if +you deal with them truly, it is hard not to seem, even to yourself, a +bumptious person. I remember trying to tell myself on the launch-trip +that I was not in the least excited; and then, standing on the platform +of the railroad station, saying: “How can you expect not to be excited, +when even the railroad is excited?” + +“Will Mr. van Tuiver’s train be on time?” I asked, of the agent. + +“‘Specials’ are not often delayed,” he replied, “at least, not Mr. van +Tuiver’s.” + +The engine and its two cars drew up, and the traveller stepped out upon +the platform, followed by his secretary and his valet. I went forward to +meet him. “Good morning, Mr. van Tuiver.” + +I saw at once that he did not remember me. “Mrs. Abbott,” I prompted. “I +came to meet you.” + +“Ah,” he said. He had never got clear whether I was a sewing-woman, or +a tutor, or what, and whenever he erred in such matters, it was on the +side of caution. + +“Your wife is doing well,” I said, “and the child as well as could be +expected.” + +“Thank you,” he said. “Did no one else come?” + +“Mrs. Tuis was not able,” I said, diplomatically, and we moved towards +the launch. + +24. He did not offer to help me into the vessel, but I, crude +Western woman, did not miss the attention. We seated ourselves in the +upholstered leather seats in the stern, and when the “luggage” had been +stowed aboard, the little vessel swung away from the pier. Then I said: +“If you will pardon me, Mr. van Tuiver, I should like to talk with you +privately.” + +He looked at me for a moment, and then answered, abruptly: “Yes, madam.” + The secretary rose and went forward. + +The whirr of the machinery and the strong breeze made by the boat’s +motion, made it certain that no one could hear us, and so I began my +attack: “Mr. van Tuiver, I am a friend of your wife’s. I came here to +help her in this crisis, and I came to-day to meet you because it was +necessary for someone to talk to you frankly about the situation. +You will understand, I presume, that Mrs. Tuis is not--not very well +informed about the matters in question.” + +His gaze was fixed intently upon me, but he said not a word. After +waiting, I continued: “Perhaps you will wonder why your wife’s +physicians could not have handled the matter. The reason is, there is +a woman’s side to such questions and often it is difficult for men to +understand it. If Sylvia knew the truth, she could speak for herself; +so long as she does not know it, I shall have to take the liberty of +speaking for her.” + +Again there was a pause. He did nothing more than watch me, yet I could +feel his affronted maleness rising up for battle. I waited on purpose to +compel him to speak. + +“May I ask,” he inquired, at last, “what you mean by the ‘truth’ that +you refer to?” + +“I mean,” I said, “the cause of the infant’s affliction.” + +His composure was a thing to wonder at. He did not show by the flicker +of an eyelash any sign of uneasiness. + +“Let me explain one thing,” I continued. “I owe it to Dr. Perrin to make +clear that he had nothing whatever to do with my coming into possession +of the secret. In fact, as he will no doubt tell you, I knew it before +he did; it is possible that you owe it to me that the infant is not +disfigured as well as blind.” + +I paused again. “If that be true,” he said, with unshaken formality, “I +am obliged to you.” What a man! + +I continued: “My one desire and purpose is to protect my friend. So far, +the secret has been kept from her. I consented to this, because her very +life was at stake, it seemed to us all. But now she is well enough to +know, and the question is SHALL she know. I need hardly tell you +that Dr. Perrin thinks she should not, and that he has been using his +influence to persuade me to agree with him; so also has Mrs. Tuis----” + +Then I saw the first trace of uncertainty in his eyes. “There was a +critical time,” I explained, “when Mrs. Tuis had to be told. You may be +sure, however, that no hint of the truth will be given by her. I am the +only person who is troubled with the problem of Sylvia’s rights.” + +I waited. “May I suggest, Mrs.--Mrs. Abbott--that the protection of +Mrs. van Tuiver’s rights can be safely left to her physicians and her +husband?” + +“One would wish so, Mr. van Tuiver, but the medical books are full of +evidence that women’s rights frequently need other protection.” + +I perceived that he was nearing the end of his patience now. “You make +it difficult for me to talk to you,” he said. “I am not accustomed to +having my affairs taken out of my hands by strangers.” + +“Mr. van Tuiver,” I replied, “in this most critical matter it is +necessary to speak without evasion. Before her marriage Sylvia made an +attempt to safeguard herself in this very matter, and she was not dealt +with fairly.” + +At last I had made a hole in the mask! His face was crimson as +he replied: “Madam, your knowledge of my private affairs is most +astonishing. May I inquire how you learned these things?” + +I did not reply at once, and he repeated the question. I perceived that +this was to him the most important matter--his wife’s lack of reserve! + +“The problem that concerns us here,” I said, “is whether you are willing +to repair the error you made. Will you go frankly to your wife and admit +your responsibility----” + +He broke in, angrily: “Madam, the assumption you are making is one I see +no reason for permitting.” + +“Mr. van Tuiver,” said I, “I hoped that you would not take that line of +argument. I perceive that I have been _naive._” + +“Really, madam!” he replied, with cruel intent, “you have not impressed +me so!” + +I continued unshaken: “In this conversation it will be necessary to +assume that you are responsible for the presence of the disease.” + +“In that case,” he replied, haughtily, “I can have no further part in +the conversation, and I will ask you to drop it at once.” + +I might have taken him at his word and waited, confident that in the +end he would have to come and ask for terms. But that would have seemed +childish to me, with the grave matters we had to settle. After a minute +or two, I said, quietly: “Mr. van Tuiver, you wish me to believe that +previous to your marriage you had always lived a chaste life?” + +He was equal to the effort it cost to control himself. He sat examining +me with his cold grey eyes. I suppose I must have been as new and +monstrous a phenomenon to him as he was to me. + +At last, seeing that he would not reply, I said, coldly: “It will help +us to get forward if you will give up the idea that it is possible for +you to put me off, or to escape this situation.” + +“Madam,” he cried, suddenly, “come to the point! What is it that you +want? Money?” + +I had thought I was prepared for everything; but this was an aspect of +his world which I could hardly have been expected to allow for. I stared +at him and then turned from the sight of him. “And to think that Sylvia +is married to such a man!” I whispered, half to myself. + +“Mrs. Abbott,” he exclaimed, “how can anyone understand what you are +driving at?” + +But I turned away without answering, and for a long time sat gazing over +the water. What was the use of pleading with such a man? What was the +use of pouring out one’s soul to him? I would tell Sylvia the truth at +once, and leave him to her! + +25. I heard him again, at last; he was talking to my back, his tone +a trifle less aloof. “Mrs. Abbott, do you realize that I know nothing +whatever about you--your character, your purpose, the nature of your +hold upon my wife? So what means have I of judging? You threaten me with +something that seems to me entirely insane--and what can I make of it? +If you wish me to understand you, tell me in plain words what you want.” + +I reflected that I was in the world, and must take it as I found it. “I +have told you what I want,” I said; “but I will tell you again, if it is +necessary. I hoped to persuade you that it was your duty to go to your +wife and tell her the truth.” + +He took a few moments to make sure of his self-possession. “And would +you explain what good you imagine that could do?” + +“Your wife,” I said, “must be put in position to protect herself in +future. There is no means of making sure in such a matter, except to +tell her the truth. You love her--and you are a man who has never been +accustomed to do without what he wants.” + +“Great God, woman!” he cried. “Don’t you suppose one blind child is +enough?” + +It was the first human word that he had spoken, and I was grateful for +it. “I have already covered that point,” I said, in a low voice. “The +medical books are full of painful evidence that several blind children +are often not enough. There can be no escaping the necessity--Sylvia +must _know._ The only question is, who shall tell her? You must realize +that in urging you to be the person, I am thinking of your good as well +as hers. I will, of course, not mention that I have had anything to +do with persuading you, and so it will seem to her that you have some +realization of the wrong you have done her, some desire to atone for it, +and to be honourable and fair in your future dealings with her. When she +has once been made to realize that you are no more guilty than other men +of your class--hat you have done no worse than all of them---- + +“You imagine she could be made to believe that?” he broke in, +impatiently. + +“I will undertake to see that she believes it,” I replied. + +“You seem to have great confidence in your ability to manage my wife!” + +“If you continue to resent my existence,” I answered, gravely, “you will +make it impossible for me to help you.” + +“Pardon me,” he said--but he did not say it cordially. + +I went on: “There is much that can be said in your behalf. I realize it +is quite possible that you were not wholly to blame when you wrote to +Bishop Chilton that you were fit to marry; I know that you may have +believed it--that you might even have found physicians to tell you so. +There is wide-spread ignorance on the subject of this disease. Men have +the idea that the chronic forms of it cannot be communicated to women, +and it is difficult to make them realize what modern investigations have +proven. You can explain that to Sylvia, and I will back you up in it. +You were in love with her, you wanted her. Go to her now, and admit to +her honestly that you have wronged her. Beg her to forgive you, and to +let you help make the best of the cruel situation that has arisen.” + +So I went on, pouring out my soul. And when I had finished, he said, +“Mrs. Abbott, I have listened patiently to your most remarkable +proposition. My answer is that I must ask you to withdraw from this +intimate matter, which concerns only my wife and myself.” + +He was back where we started! Trying to sweep aside these grim and +terrible realities with the wave of a conventional hand! Was this the +way he met Sylvia’s arguments? I felt moved to tell him what I thought +of him. + +“You are a proud man, Mr. van Tuiver--an obstinate man, I fear. It is +hard for you to humble yourself to your wife--to admit a crime and beg +forgiveness. Tell me--is that why you hesitate? Is it because you fear +you will have to take second place in your family from now on--that you +will no longer be able to dominate Sylvia? Are you afraid of putting +into her hands a weapon of self-defence?” + +He made no response. + +“Very well,” I said, at last. “Let me tell you, then--I will not help +any man to hold such a position in a woman’s life. Women have to bear +half the burdens of marriage, they pay half, or more than half, the +penalties; and so it is necessary that they have a voice in its affairs. +Until they know the truth, they can never have a voice.” + +Of course my little lecture on Feminism might as well have been +delivered to a sphinx. “How stupid you are!” I cried. “Don’t you know +that some day Sylvia must find out the truth for herself?” + +This was before the days when newspapers and magazines began to discuss +such matters frankly; but still there were hints to be picked up. I had +a newspaper-item in my bag--the board of health in a certain city had +issued a circular giving instructions for the prevention of blindness +in newly-born infants, and discussing the causes thereof; and the United +States post office authorities had barred the circular from the mails. I +said, “Suppose that item had come under Sylvia’s eyes; might it not have +put her on the track. It was in her newspaper the day before yesterday; +and it was only by accident that I got hold of it first. Do you suppose +that can go on forever?” + +“Now that I am here,” he replied, “I will be glad to relieve you of such +responsibilities.” + +Which naturally made me cross. I drew from my quiver an arrow that I +thought would penetrate his skin. “Mr. van Tuiver,” I said, “a man in +your position must always be an object of gossip and scandal. Suppose +some enemy were to send your wife an anonymous letter? Or suppose there +were some woman who thought that you had wronged her?” + +I stopped. He gave me one keen look--and then again the impenetrable +mask! “My wife will have to do as other women in her position do--pay no +attention to scandal-mongers of any sort.” + +I paused, and then went on: “I believe in marriage. I consider it a +sacred thing; I would do anything in my power to protect and preserve a +marriage. But I hold that it must be an equal partnership. I would fight +to make it that; and wherever I found that it could not be that, I would +say it was not marriage, but slavery, and I would fight just as hard to +break it. Can you not understand that attitude upon a woman’s part?” + +He gave no sign that he could understand. But still I would not give up +my battle. “Mr. van Tuiver,” I pleaded, “I am a much older person than +you. I have seen a great deal of life--I have seen suffering even worse +than yours. And I am trying most earnestly to help you. Can you not +bring yourself to talk to me frankly? Perhaps you have never talked with +a woman about such matters--I mean, with a good woman. But I assure +you that other men have found it possible, and never regretted the +confidence they placed in me.” + +I went on to tell him about my own sons, and what I had done for them; +I told him of a score of other boys in their class who had come to me, +making me a sort of mother-confessor. I do not think that I was entirely +deceived by my own eloquence--there was, I am sure, a minute or two +when he actually wavered. But then the habits of a precocious life-time +reasserted themselves, and he set his lips and told himself that he was +Douglas van Tuiver. Such things might happen in raw Western colleges, +but they were not according to the Harvard manner, nor the tradition of +life in Fifth Avenue clubs. + +He could not be a boy! He had never had any boyhood, any childhood--he +had been a state personage ever since he had known that he was anything. +I found myself thinking suddenly of the thin-lipped old family lawyer, +who had had much to do with shaping his character, and whom Sylvia +described to me, sitting at her dinner-table and bewailing the folly +of people who “admitted things.” That was what made trouble for family +lawyers--not what people did, but what they admitted. How easy it was +to ignore impertinent questions! And how few people had the wit to do +it!-it seemed as if the shade of the thin-lipped old family lawyer were +standing by Douglas van Tuiver’s side. + +In a last desperate effort, I cried, “Even suppose that I grant your +request, even suppose I agree not to tell Sylvia the truth--still the +day will come when you will hear from her the point-blank question: ‘Is +my child blind because of this disease?’ And what will you answer?” + +He said, in his cold, measured tones, “I will answer that there are a +thousand ways in which the disease can be innocently acquired.” + +For a long time there was silence between us. At last he spoke again, +and his voice was as emotionless as if we had just met: “Do I understand +you, madam, that if I reject your advice and refuse to tell my wife what +you call the truth, it is your intention to tell her yourself?” + +“You understand me correctly,” I replied. + +“And may I ask when you intend to carry out this threat?” + +“I will wait,” I said, “I will give you every chance to think it +over--to consult with the doctors, in case you wish to. I will not take +the step without giving you fair notice.” + +“For that I am obliged to you,” he said, with a touch of irony; and that +was our last word. + +26. Our island was visible in the distance and I was impatient for the +time when I should be free from this man’s presence. But as we drew +nearer, I noticed a boat coming out; it proved to be one of the smaller +launches heading directly for us. Neither van Tuiver nor I spoke, but +both of us watched it, and he must have been wondering, as I was, what +its purpose could be. When it was near enough, I made out that its +passengers were Dr. Perrin and Dr. Gibson. + +We slowed up, and the other boat did the same, and they lay within a few +feet of each other. Dr. Perrin greeted van Tuiver, and after introducing +the other man, he said: “We came out to have a talk with you. Would you +be so good as to step into this boat?” + +“Certainly,” was the reply. The two launches were drawn side by side, +and the transfer made; the man who was running the smaller launch +stepped into ours--evidently having been instructed in advance. + +“You will excuse us please?” said the little doctor to me. The man who +had stepped into our launch spoke to the captain of it, and the power +was then put on, and we moved away a sufficient distance to be out of +hearing. I thought this a strange procedure, but I conjectured that the +doctors had become nervous as to what I might have told van Tuiver. So +I dismissed the matter from my mind, and spent my time reviewing the +exciting adventure I had just passed through. + +How much impression had I made? It was hard for me to judge such a man. +He would pretend to be less concerned than he actually was. But surely +he must see that he was in my power, and would have to give way in the +end! + +There came a hail from the little vessel, and we moved alongside again. +“Would you kindly step in here with us, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin, +and when I had done so, he ordered the boatman to move away once more. +Van Tuiver said not a word, but I noted a strained look upon his face, +and I thought the others seemed agitated also. + +As soon as the other vessel was out of hearing, Dr. Perrin turned to me +and said: “Mrs. Abbott, we came out to see Mr. van Tuiver, to warn him +of a distressing accident which has just happened. Mrs. van Tuiver was +asleep in her room, and Miss Lyman and another of the nurses were in the +next room. They indiscreetly made some remarks on the subject which we +have all been discussing--how much a wife should be told about these +matters, and suddenly they discovered Mrs. van Tuiver standing in the +doorway of the room.” + +My gaze had turned to Douglas van Tuiver. “So she _knows!_” I cried. + +“We don’t think that she knows, but she has a suspicion and is trying to +find out. She asked to see you.” + +“Ah, yes!” I said. + +“She declared that she wished to see you as soon as you returned--that +she would not see anyone else, not even Mr. van Tuiver. You will +understand that this portends trouble for all of us. We judged it +necessary to have a consultation about the matter.” + +I bowed in assent. + +“Now, Mrs. Abbot,” began the little doctor, solemnly, “there is no +longer a question of abstract ideas, but of an immediate emergency. We +feel that we, as the physicians in charge of the case, have the right to +take control of the matter. We do not see----” + +“Dr. Perrin,” I said, “let us come to the point. You want me to spin a +new web of deception?” + +“We are of the opinion, Mrs. Abbott, that in such matters the physicians +in charge----” + +“Excuse me,” I said, quickly, “we have been over all this before, and we +know that we disagree. Has Mr. van Tuiver told you of the proposition I +have just made?” + +“You mean for him to go to his wife----” + +“Yes.” + +“He has told us of this, and has offered to do it. We are of the opinion +that it would be a grave mistake.” + +“It has been three weeks since the birth of the baby,” I said. “Surely +all danger of fever is past. I will grant you that if it were a question +of telling her deliberately, it might be better to put it off for a +while. I would have been willing to wait for months, but for the fact +that I dreaded something like the present situation. Now that it has +happened, surely it is best to use our opportunity while all of us +are here and can persuade her to take the kindest attitude towards her +husband.” + +“Madam!” broke in Dr. Gibson. (He was having difficulty in controlling +his excitement.) “You are asking us to overstep the bounds of our +professional duty. It is not for the physician to decide upon the +attitude a wife should take toward her husband.” + +“Dr. Gibson,” I replied, “that is what you propose to do, only you wish +to conceal the fact. You would force Mrs. van Tuiver to accept your +opinion of what a wife’s duty is.” + +Dr. Perrin took command once more. “Our patient has asked for you, and +she looks to you for guidance. You must put aside your own convictions +and think of her health. You are the only person who can calm her, and +surely it is your duty to do so!” + +“I know that I might go in and lie again to my friend, but she knows +too much to be deceived for very long. You know what a mind she has--a +lawyer’s mind! How can I persuade her that the nurses--why, I do not +even know what she heard the nurses say!” + +“We have that all written down for you,” put in Dr. Perrin, quickly. + +“You have their recollection of it, no doubt--but suppose they have +forgotten some of it? Sylvia has not forgotten, you may be sure--every +word is burned with fire into her brain. She has put with this +everything she ever heard on the subject--the experience of her +friend, Harriet Atkinson-all that I’ve told her in the past about such +things----” + +“Ah!” growled Dr. Gibson. “That’s it! If you had not meddled in the +beginning----” + +“Now, now!” said the other, soothingly. “You ask me to relieve you of +the embarrassment of this matter. I quite agree with Mrs. Abbott that +there is too much ignorance about these things, but she must recognise, +I am sure, that this is not the proper moment for enlightening Mrs. van +Tuiver.” + +“I do not recognise it at all,” I said. “If her husband will go to her +and tell her humbly and truthfully----” + +“You are talking madness!” cried the old man, breaking loose again. “She +would be hysterical--she would regard him as something loathsome--some +kind of criminal----” + +“Of course she would be shocked,” I said, “but she has the coolest head +of anyone I know--I do not think of any man I would trust so fully +to take a rational attitude in the end. We can explain to her what +extenuating circumstances there are, and she will have to recognise +them. She will see that we are considering her rights----” + +“Her _rights!_” The old man fairly snorted the words. + +“Now, now, Dr. Gibson!” interposed the other. “You asked me----” + +“I know! I know! But as the older of the physicians in charge of this +case----” + +Dr. Perrin managed to frown him down, and went on trying to placate +me. But through the argument I could hear the old man muttering in +his collar a kind of double bass _pizzicato_: “Suffragettes! Fanatics! +Hysteria! Woman’s Rights!” + +27. The breeze was feeble, and the sun was blazing hot, but nevertheless +I made myself listen patiently for a while. They had said it all to +me, over and over again; but it seemed that Dr. Perrin could not be +satisfied until it had been said in Douglas van Tuiver’s presence. + +“Dr. Perrin,” I exclaimed, “even supposing we make the attempt to +deceive her, we have not one plausible statement to make----” + +“You are mistaken, Mrs. Abbott,” said he. “We have the perfectly +well-known fact that this disease is often contracted in ways which +involve no moral blame. And in this case I believe I am in position to +state how the accident happened.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“I don’t know whether you heard that just before Mrs. van Tuiver’s +confinement, I was called away to one of the other keys to attend a +negro-woman. And since this calamity has befallen us, I have realized +that I was possibly not as careful in sterilizing my instruments as I +might have been. It is of course a dreadful thing for any physician to +have to believe----” + +He stopped, and there was a long silence. I gazed from one to another of +the men. Two of them met my gaze; one did not. “He is going to let you +say that?” I whispered, at last. + +“Honour and fairness compel me to say it, Mrs. Abbott. I believe----” + +But I interrupted him. “Listen to me, Dr. Perrin. You are a chivalrous +gentleman, and you think you are helping a man in desperate need. But +I say that anyone who would permit you to tell such a tale is a +contemptible coward!” + +“Madam,” cried Dr. Gibson, furiously, “there is a limit even to a +woman’s rights!” + +A silence followed. At last I resumed, in a low voice, “You gentlemen +have your code: you protect the husband--you protect him at all hazards. +I could understand this, if he were innocent of the offence in question; +I could understand it if there were any possibility of his being +innocent. But how can you protect him, when you know that he is guilty?” + +“There can be no question of such knowledge!” cried the old doctor. + +“I have no idea,” I said, “how much he has admitted to you; but let me +remind you of one circumstance, which is known to Dr. Perrin--that I +came to this place with the definite information that symptoms of the +disease were to be anticipated. Dr. Perrin knows that I told that to Dr. +Overton in New York. Has he informed you of it?” + +There was an awkward interval. I glanced at van Tuiver, and I saw that +he was leaning forward, staring at me. I thought he was about to speak, +when Dr. Gibson broke in, excitedly, “All this is beside the mark! We +have a serious emergency to face, and we are not getting anywhere. As +the older of the physicians in charge of this case----” + +And he went on to give me a lecture on the subject of authority. He +talked for five minutes, ten minutes--I lost all track of the time. I +had suddenly begun to picture how I would act and what I would say when +I went into Sylvia’s room. What a state must Sylvia be in, while we sat +out here in the blazing mid-day sun, discussing her right to freedom and +knowledge! + +28. “I have always been positive,” Dr. Gibson was saying, “but the +present discussion has made me more positive than ever. As the older of +the physicians in charge of this case, I say most emphatically that the +patient shall not be told!” + +I could not stand him any longer. “I am going to tell the patient,” I +said. + +“You shall _not_ tell her!” + +“But how will you prevent me?” + +“You shall not _see_ her!” + +“But she is determined to see _me!_” + +“She will be told that you are not there.” + +“And how long do you imagine that that will satisfy her?” + +There was a pause. They looked at van Tuiver, expecting him to speak. +And so I heard once more his cold, deliberate voice. “We have done +all we can. There can no longer be any question as to the course to be +taken. Mrs. Abbott will not return to my home.” + +“What?” I cried. I stared at him, aghast. “What do you mean?” + +“I mean what I say--that you will not be taken back to the island.” + +“But where will I be taken?” + +“You will be taken to the mainland.” + +I stared at the others. No one gave a sign. At last I whispered, “You +would _dare?_” + +“You leave us no other alternative,” replied the master. + +“You--you will practically kidnap me!” My voice must have been rather +wild at that moment. + +“You left my home of your own free will. I think I need hardly point out +to you that I am not compelled to invite you back to it.” + +“And what will Sylvia----” I stopped; appalled at the vista the words +opened up. + +“My wife,” said van Tuiver, “will ultimately choose between her husband +and her most remarkable acquaintance.” + +“And you gentlemen?” I turned to the others. “You would give your +sanction to this outrageous action?” + +“As the older of the physicians in charge of this case----” began Dr. +Gibson. + +I turned to van Tuiver again. “When your wife finds out what you have +done to me--what will you answer?” + +“We will deal with that situation when we come to it.” + +“Of course,” I said, “you understand that sooner or later I shall get +word to her!” + +He answered, “We shall assume from now on that you are a mad woman, and +shall take our precautions accordingly.” + +Again there was a silence. + +“The launch will return to the mainland,” said van Tuiver at last. “It +will remain there until Mrs. Abbott sees fit to go ashore. May I ask if +she has sufficient money in her purse to take her to New York?” + +I could not help laughing. The thing was so wild--and yet I could see +that from their point of view it was the only thing to do. “Mrs. Abbott +is not certain that she is going back to New York,” I replied. “If she +does go, it will not be with Mr. van Tuiver’s money.” + +“One thing more,” said Dr. Perrin. It was the first time he had spoken +since van Tuiver’s incredible announcement. “I trust, Mrs. Abbott, that +this unfortunate situation may at all costs be concealed from servants, +and from the world in general.” + +From which I realized how badly I had them frightened. They actually saw +me making physical resistance! + +“Dr. Perrin,” I replied, “I am acting in this matter for my friend. +I will add this: that I believe that you are letting yourself be +overborne, and that you will regret it some day.” + +He made no answer. Douglas van Tuiver put an end to the discussion by +rising and signalling the other launch. When it had come alongside, he +said to the captain, “Mrs. Abbott is going back to the railroad. You +will take her at once.” + +Then he waited; I was malicious enough to give him an anxious moment +before I rose. Dr. Perrin offered me his hand; and Dr. Gibson said, with +a smile, “Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott. I’m sorry you can’t stay with us any +longer.” + +I think it was something to my credit that I was able to play out the +game before the boatmen. “I am sorry, too,” I countered. “I am hoping I +shall be able to return.” + +And then came the real ordeal. “Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott,” said Douglas van +Tuiver, with his stateliest bow; and I managed to answer him! + +As I took my seat, he beckoned his secretary. There was a whispered +consultation for a minute or two, and then the master returned to the +smaller launch with the doctors. He gave the word, and the two vessels +set out--one to the key, and the other to the railroad. The secretary +went in the one with me! + +29. And here ends a certain stage of my story. I have described Sylvia +as I met her and judged her; and if there be any reader who has been +irked by this method, who thinks of me as a crude and pushing person, +disposed to meddle in the affairs of others, here is where that reader +will have his satisfaction and revenge. For if ever a troublesome puppet +was jerked suddenly off the stage--if ever a long-winded orator was +effectively snuffed out--I was that puppet and that orator. I stop and +think--shall I describe how I paced up and down the pier, respectfully +but emphatically watched by the secretary? And all the melodramatic +plots I conceived, the muffled oars and the midnight visits to my +Sylvia? My sense of humour forbids it. For a while now I shall take +the hint and stay in the background of this story. I shall tell the +experiences of Sylvia as Sylvia herself told them to me long afterwards; +saying no more about my own fate--save that I swallowed my humiliation +and took the next train to New York, a far sadder and wiser +social-reformer! + + + + + +BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL + + +1. Long afterwards Sylvia told me about what happened between her +husband and herself; how desperately she tried to avoid discussing the +issue with him--out of her very sense of fairness to him. But he came to +her room, in spite of her protest, and by his implacable persistence +he made her hear what he had to say. When he had made up his mind to a +certain course of action, he was no more to be resisted than a glacier. + +“Sylvia,” he said, “I know that you are upset by what has happened. I +make every allowance for your condition; but there are some statements +that I must be permitted to make, and there are simply no two ways about +it--you must get yourself together and hear me.” + +“Let me see Mary Abbott!” she insisted, again and again. “It may not be +what you want--but I demand to see her.” + +So at last he said, “You cannot see Mrs. Abbott. She has gone back to +New York.” And then, at her look of consternation: “That is one of the +things I have to talk to you about.” + +“Why has she gone back?” cried Sylvia. + +“Because I was unwilling to have her here.” + +“You mean you sent her away?” + +“I mean that she understood she was no longer welcome.” + +Sylvia drew a quick breath and turned away to the window. + +He took advantage of the opportunity to come near, and draw up a chair +for her. “Will you not pleased to be seated,” he said. And at last she +turned, rigidly, and seated herself. + +“The time has come,” he declared, “when we have to settle this question +of Mrs. Abbott, and her influence upon your life. I have argued with you +about such matters, but now what has happened makes further discussion +impossible. You were brought up among people of refinement, and it has +been incredible to me that you should be willing to admit to your home +such a woman as this--not merely of the commonest birth, but without a +trace of the refinement to which you have been accustomed. And now +you see the consequences of your having brought such a person into our +life!” + +He paused. She made no sound, and her gaze was riveted upon the +window-curtain. + +“She happens to be here,” he went on, “at a time when a dreadful +calamity befalls us--when we are in need of the utmost sympathy and +consideration. Here is an obscure and terrible affliction, which has +baffled the best physicians in the country; but this ignorant farmer’s +wife considers that she knows all about it. She proceeds to discuss it +with every one--sending your poor aunt almost into hysterics, setting +the nurses to gossiping--God knows what else she has done, or what she +will do, before she gets through. I don’t pretend to know her ultimate +purpose--blackmail, possibly----” + +“Oh, how can you!” she broke out, involuntarily. “How can you say such a +thing about a friend of mine?” + +“I might answer with another question--how can you have such a friend? +A woman who has cast off every restraint, every consideration of +decency--and yet is able to persuade a daughter of the Castlemans to +make her an intimate! Possibly she is an honest fanatic. Dr. Perrin +tells me she was the wife of a brutal farmer, who mistreated her. No +doubt that has embittered her against men, and accounts for her mania. +You see that her mind leaped at once to the most obscene and hideous +explanation of this misfortune of ours--an explanation which pleased her +because it blackened the honour of a man.” + +He stopped again. Sylvia’s eyes had moved back to the window-curtain. + +“I am not going to insult your ears,” he said, “with discussions of her +ideas. The proper person to settle such matters is a physician, and if +you wish Dr. Perrin to do so, he will tell you what he knows about the +case. But I wish you to realize somehow what this thing has meant to +me. I have managed to control myself----” He saw her shut her lips more +tightly. “The doctors tell me that I must not excite you. But picture +the situation. I come to my home, bowed down with grief for you and for +my child. And this mad woman thrusts herself forward, shoves aside your +aunt and your physicians, and comes in the launch to meet me at the +station. And then she accuses me of being criminally guilty of the +blindness of my child--of having wilfully deceived my wife! Think of +it--that is my welcome to my home!” + +“Douglas,” she cried, wildly, “Mary Abbott would not have done such a +thing without reason----” + +“I do not purpose to defend myself,” he said, coldly. “If you are bent +upon filling your mind with such matters, go to Dr. Perrin. He will +tell you that he, as a physician, knows that the charge against me is +preposterous. He will tell you that even granting that the cause of +the blindness is what Mrs. Abbott guesses, there are a thousand ways in +which such an infection can be contracted, which are perfectly innocent, +involving no guilt on the part of anyone. Every doctor knows that +drinking-cups, wash-basins, towels, even food, can be contaminated. He +knows that any person can bring the affliction into a home--servants, +nurses, even the doctors themselves. Has your mad woman friend told you +any of that?” + +“She has told me nothing. You know that I have had no opportunity to +talk with her. I only know what the nurses believe----” + +“They believe what Mrs. Abbott told them. That is absolutely all the +reason they have for believing anything!” + +She did not take that quite as he expected. “So Mary Abbott _did_ tell +them!” she cried. + +He hurried on: “The poisonous idea of a vulgar Socialist woman--this is +the thing upon which you base your suspicions of your husband!” + +“Oh!” she whispered, half to herself. “Mary Abbott _did_ say it!” + +“What if she did?” + +“Oh, Douglas, Mary would never have said such a thing to a nurse unless +she had been certain of it!” + +“Certain?” he broke out. “What certainty could she imagine she had? +She is a bitter, frantic woman--a divorced woman--who jumped to the +conclusion that pleased her, because it involved the humiliation of a +rich man.” + +He went on, his voice trembling with suppressed passion: “When you know +the real truth, the thing becomes a nightmare. You, a delicate woman, +lying here helpless--the victim of a cruel misfortune, and with the +life of an afflicted infant depending upon your peace of mind. Your +physicians planning day and night to keep you quiet, to keep the +dreadful, unbearable truth from you----” + +“Oh, what truth? That’s the terrifying thing--to know that people are +keeping things from me! What _was_ it they were keeping?” + +“First of all, the fact that the baby was blind; and then the cause of +it----” + +“Then they _do_ know the cause?” + +“They don’t know positively--no one can know positively. But poor +Dr. Perrin had a dreadful idea, that he had to hide from you because +otherwise he could not bear to continue in your house----” + +“Why, Douglas! What do you mean?” + +“I mean that a few days before your confinement, he was called away to +the case of a negro-woman--you knew that, did you not?” + +“Go on.” + +“He had the torturing suspicion that possibly he was not careful enough +in sterilizing his instruments, and that he, your friend and protector, +may be the man who is to blame.” + +“Oh! Oh!” Her voice was a whisper of horror. + +“That is one of the secrets your doctors have been trying to hide.” + +There was silence, while her eyes searched his face. Suddenly she +stretched out her hands to him, crying desperately: “Oh, is this true?” + +He did not take the outstretched hands. “Since I am upon the +witness-stand, I have to be careful of my replies. It is what Dr. Perrin +tells me. Whether the explanation he gives is the true one--whether +he himself, or the nurse he recommended, may have brought the +infection----” + +“It couldn’t have been the nurse,” she said quickly. “She was so +careful----” + +He did not allow her to finish. “You seem determined,” he said, coldly, +“to spare everyone but your husband.” + +“No!” she protested, “I have tried hard to be fair--to be fair to both +you and my friend. Of course, if Mary Abbott was mistaken, I have done +you a great injustice--” + +He saw that she was softening, and that it was safe for him to be a +man. “It has been with some difficulty that I have controlled myself +throughout this experience,” he said, rising to his feet. “If you do not +mind, I think I will not carry the discussion any further, as I don’t +feel that I can trust myself to listen to a defence of that woman from +your lips. I will only tell you my decision in the matter. I have never +before used my authority as a husband; I hoped I should never have to +use it. But the time has come when you will have to choose between +Mary Abbott and your husband. I will positively not tolerate your +corresponding with her, or having anything further to do with her. +I take my stand upon that, and nothing will move me. I will not even +permit of any discussion of the subject. And now I hope you will excuse +me. Dr. Perrin wishes me to tell you that either he or Dr. Gibson are +ready at any time to advise you about these matters, which have been +forced upon your mind against their judgment and protests.” + +2. You can see that it was no easy matter for Sylvia to get at the +truth. The nurses, already terrified because of their indiscretion, had +been first professionally thrashed, and then carefully drilled as to the +answers they were to make. But as a matter of fact they did not have +to make any answers at all, because Sylvia was unwilling to reveal to +anyone her distrust of her husband. + +One of two things was certain: either she had been horribly wronged by +her husband, or now she was horribly wronging him. Which was the truth? +Was it conceivable that I, Mary Abbott, would leap to a false conclusion +about such a matter? She knew that I felt intensely, almost fanatically, +on the subject, and also that I had been under great emotional stress. +Was it possible that I would have voiced mere suspicions to the nurses? +Sylvia could not be sure, for my standards were as strange to her as +my Western accent. She knew that I talked freely to everyone about such +matters--and would be as apt to select the nurses as the ladies of +the house. On the other hand, how was it conceivable that I could know +positively? To recognize a disease might be easy; but to specify from +what source it had come--that was surely not in my power! + +They did not leave her alone for long. Mrs. Tuis came in, with her +feminine terrors. “Sylvia, you must know that you are treating your +husband dreadfully! He has gone away down the beach by himself, and has +not even seen his baby!” + +“Aunt Varina--” she began, “won’t you please go away?” + +But the other rushed on: “Your husband comes here, broken with grief +because of this affliction; and you overwhelm him with the most cruel +and wicked reproaches with charges you have no way in the world of +proving----” And the old lady caught her niece by the hand. “My child! +Come, do your duty!” + +“My duty?” + +“Make yourself fit, and take your husband to see his baby.” + +“Oh, I can’t!” cried Sylvia. “I don’t want to be there when he sees her! +If I loved him--” Then, seeing her aunt’s face of horror, she was seized +with a sudden impulse of pity, and caught the poor old lady in her arms. +“Aunt Varina,” she said, “I am making you suffer, I know--I am making +everyone suffer! But if you only knew how I am suffering myself! How can +I know what to do.” + +Mrs. Tuis was weeping; but quickly she got herself together, and +answered in a firm voice, “Your old auntie can tell you what to do. You +must come to your senses, my child--you must let your reason prevail. +Get your face washed, make yourself presentable, and come and take your +husband to see your baby. Women have to suffer, dear; we must not shirk +our share of life’s burdens.” + +“There is no danger of my shirking,” said Sylvia, bitterly. + +“Come, dear, come,” pleaded Mrs. Tuis. She was trying to lead the girl +to the mirror. If only she could be made to see how distraught and +disorderly she looked! “Let me help you to dress, dear--you know how +much better it always makes you feel.” + +Sylvia laughed, a trifle wildly--but Mrs. Tuis had dealt with hysteria +before. “What would you like to wear?” she demanded. And then, without +waiting for an answer, “Let me choose something. One of your pretty +frocks.” + +“A pretty frock, and a seething volcano underneath! That is your idea of +a woman’s life!” + +The other responded very gravely, “A pretty frock, my dear, and a +smile--instead of a vulgar scene, and ruin and desolation afterwards.” + +Sylvia made no reply. Yes, that was the life of woman--her old aunt +knew! And her old aunt knew also the psychology of her sex. She did not +go on talking about pretty frocks in the abstract; she turned at once to +the clothes-closet, and began laying pretty frocks upon the bed! + +3. Sylvia emerged upon the “gallery,” clad in dainty pink muslin, her +beautiful shiny hair arranged under a semi-invalid’s cap of pink maline. +Her face was pale, and the big red-brown eyes were hollow; but she was +quiet, and apparently mistress of herself again. She even humoured Aunt +Varina by leaning slightly upon her feeble arm, while the maid hastened +to place her chair in a shaded spot. + +Her husband came, and the doctors; the tea-things were brought, and +Aunt Varina poured tea, a-flutter with excitement. They talked about +the comparative temperatures of New York and the Florida Keys, and about +hedges of jasmine to shade the gallery from the evening sun. And after +a while, Aunt Varina arose, explaining that she would prepare Elaine for +her father’s visit. In the doorway she stood for a moment, smiling upon +the pretty picture; it was all settled now--the outward forms had been +observed, and the matter would end, as such matters should end between +husband and wife--a few tears, a few reproaches, and then a few kisses. + +The baby was made ready, with a new dress, and a fresh silk bandage +to cover the pitiful, lifeless eyes. Aunt Varina had found pleasure in +making these bandages; she made them soft and pretty--less hygienic, +perhaps, but avoiding the suggestion of the hospital. + +When Sylvia and her husband came into the room, the faces of both of +them were white. Sylvia stopped near the door-way; and poor Aunt Varina +fluttered about, in agony of soul. When van Tuiver went to the cradle, +she hurried to his side, and sought to awaken the little one with gentle +nudges. Quite unexpectedly to her, van Tuiver sought to pick up the +infant; she helped him, and he stood, holding it awkwardly, as if afraid +it might go to pieces in his arms. + +So any man might appear, with his first infant; but to Sylvia it seemed +the most tragic sight she had ever seen in her life. She gave a low +cry, “Douglas!” and he turned, and she saw his face was working with the +feeling he was ashamed for anyone to see. “Oh, Douglas,” she whispered, +“I’m so _sorry_ for you!” At which Aunt Varina decided that it was time +for her to make her escape. + +4. But the trouble between these two were not such as could be settled +by any burst of emotion. The next day they were again in a dispute, for +he had come to ask her word of honour that she would never see me again, +and would give him my letters to be returned unopened. This last was +what she had let her father do in the case of Frank Shirley; and she had +become certain in her own mind that she had done wrong. + +But he was insistent in his demand; declaring that it should be obvious +to her there could be no peace of mind for him so long as my influence +continued in her life. + +“But surely,” protested Sylvia, “to hear Mary Abbott’s explanation----” + +“There can be no explanation that is not an insult to your husband, and +to those who are caring for you. I am speaking in this matter not merely +for myself, but for your physicians, who know this woman, heard her +menaces and her vulgarity. It is their judgment that you should be +protected at all hazards from further contact with her.” + +“Douglas,” she argued, “you must realize that I am in distress of mind +about this matter----” + +“I certainly realize that.” + +“And if you are thinking of my welfare, you should choose a course that +would set my mind at rest. But when you come to me and ask me that I +should not even read a letter from my friend--don’t you realize what you +suggest to me, that there is something you are afraid for me to know?” + +“I do not attempt to deny my fear of this woman. I have seen how she has +been able to poison your mind with suspicions----” + +“Yes, Douglas--but now that has been done. What else is there to fear +from her?” + +“I have no idea what. She is a bitter, jealous woman, with a mind full +of hatred; and you are an innocent girl, who cannot judge about these +matters. What idea have you of the world in which you live, of the +slanders to which a man in your husband’s position is exposed?” + +“I am not quite such a child as that----” + +“You have simply no idea, I tell you. I remember your consternation +when we first met, and I told you about the woman who had written me +a begging letter, and got an interview with me, and then started +screaming, and refused to leave the house till I had paid her a lot of +money. You had never heard such stories, had you? Yet it is the kind of +thing that is happening to rich men continually; it was one of the first +rules I was taught, never to let myself be alone with a strange woman, +no matter of what age, or under what circumstances.” + +“But, I assure you, I would not listen to such people----” + +“You are asking right now to listen! And you would be influenced by +her--you could not help it, any more than you can help being distressed +about what she has already said. She intimated to Dr. Perrin that she +believed that I had been a man of depraved life, and that my wife and +child were now paying the penalty. How can I tell what vile stories +concerning me she may not have heard? How could I have any peace of mind +while I knew that she was free to pour them into your ear?” + +Sylvia sat dumb with questions she would not utter, hovering on the tip +of her tongue. + +He took her silence for acquiesence, and went on, quickly, “Let me give +you an illustration. A friend of mine whom you know well--I might as +well tell you his name, it was Freddie Atkins--was at supper with some +theatrical women; and one of them, not having any idea that Freddie knew +me, proceeded to talk about me, and how she had met me, and where we had +been together--about my yacht, and my castle in Scotland, and I don’t +know what all else. It seems that this woman had been my mistress for +several years; she told quite glibly about me and my habits. Freddie got +the woman’s picture, on some pretext or other, and brought it to me; I +had never laid eyes on her in my life. He could hardly believe it, and +to prove it to him I offered to meet the woman, under another name. +We sat in a restaurant, and she told the tale to Freddie and myself +together--until finally he burst out laughing, and told her who I was.” + +He paused, to let this sink in. “Now, suppose your friend, Mary Abbott, +had met that woman! I don’t imagine she is particularly careful whom +she associates with; and suppose she had come and told you that she knew +such a woman--what would you have said? Can you deny that the tale would +have made an impression on you? Yet, I’ve not the least doubt there are +scores of women who made such tales about me a part of their stock in +trade; there are thousands of women whose fortunes would be made for +life if they could cause such a tale to be believed. And imagine how +well-informed they would be, if anyone were to ask them concerning +my habits, and the reason why our baby is blind! I tell you, when the +rumour concerning our child has begun to spread, there will be ten +thousand people in New York city who will know of first-hand, personal +knowledge exactly how it happened, and how you took it, and everything +that I said to you about it. There will be sneers in the society-papers, +from New York to San Francisco; and smooth-tongued gentlemen calling, +to give us hints that we can stop these sneers by purchasing a de-luxe +edition of a history of our ancestors for six thousand dollars. There +will be well-meaning and beautiful-souled people who will try to get +you to confide in them, and then use their knowledge of your domestic +unhappiness to blackmail you; there will be threats of law-suits from +people who will claim that they have contracted a disease from you +or your child--your laundress, perhaps, or your maid, or one of these +nurses----” + +“Oh, stop! stop!” she cried. + +“I am quite aware,” he said, quietly, “that these things are not +calculated to preserve the peace of mind of a young mother. You are +horrified when I tell you of them--yet you clamour for the right to have +Mrs. Abbott tell you of them! I warn you, Sylvia--you have married a +rich man, who is exposed to the attacks of cunning and unscrupulous +enemies. You, as his wife, are exactly as much exposed--possibly even +more so. Therefore when I see you entering into what I know to be a +dangerous intimacy, I must have the right to say to you, This shall +stop, and I tell you, there can never be any safety or peace of mind for +either of us, so long as you attempt to deny me that right.” + +5. Dr. Gibson took his departure three or four days later; and before +he went, he came to give her his final blessing; talking to her, as he +phrased it, “like a Dutch uncle.” “You must understand,” he said, “I am +almost old enough to be your grandfather. I have four sons, anyone of +whom might have married you, if they had had the good fortune to be in +Castleman County at the critical time. So you must let me be frank with +you.” + +Sylvia indicated that she was willing. + +“We don’t generally talk to women about these matters; because they’ve +no standard by which to judge, and they almost always fly off and have +hysterics. Their case seems to them exceptional and horrible, their +husbands the blackest criminals in the whole tribe.” + +He paused for a moment. “Now, Mrs. van Tuiver, the disease which has +made your baby blind is probably what we call gonorrhea. When it gets +into the eyes, it has very terrible results. But it doesn’t often get +into the eyes, and for the most part it’s a trifling affair, that we +don’t worry about. I know there are a lot of new-fangled notions, but +I’m an old man, with experience of my own, and I have to have things +proven to me. I know that with as much of this disease as we doctors +see, if it was a deadly disease, there’d be nobody left alive in the +world. As I say, I don’t like to discuss it with women; but it was not I +who forced the matter upon your attention----” + +“Pray go on, Dr. Gibson,” she said. “I really wish to know all that you +will tell me.” + +“The question has come up, how was this disease brought to your child? +Dr. Perrin suggested that possibly he--you understand his fear; and +possibly he is correct. But it seems to me an illustration of the +unwisdom of a physician’s departing from his proper duty, which is to +cure people. If you wish to find out who brought a disease, what you +need is a detective. I know, of course, that there are people who can +combine the duties of physician and detective--and that without any +previous preparation or study of either profession.” + +He waited for this irony to sink in; and Sylvia also waited, patiently. + +At last he resumed, “The idea has been planted in your mind that your +husband brought the trouble; and that idea is sure to stay there and +fester. So it becomes necessary for someone to talk to you straight. Let +me tell you that eight men out of ten have had this disease at some time +in their lives; also that very few of them were cured of it when they +thought they were. You have a cold: and then next month, you say +the cold is gone. So it is, for practical purposes. But if I take a +microscope, I find the germs of the cold still in your membranes, and I +know that you can give a cold, and a bad cold, to some one else who is +sensitive. It is true that you may go through all the rest of your life +without ever being entirely rid of that cold. You understand me?” + +“Yes,” said Sylvia, in a low voice. + +“I say eight out of ten. Estimates would differ. Some doctors would say +seven out of ten--and some actual investigations have shown nine out of +ten. And understand me, I don’t mean bar-room loafers and roustabouts. +I mean your brothers, if you have any, your cousins, your best friends, +the men who came to make love to you, and whom you thought of marrying. +If you had found it out about any one of them, of course you’d have cut +the acquaintance; yet you’d have been doing an injustice--for if you +had done that to all who’d ever had the disease, you might as well have +retired to a nunnery at once.” + +The old gentleman paused again; then frowning at her under his bushy +eye-brows, he exclaimed, “I tell you, Mrs. van Tuiver, you’re doing your +husband a wrong. Your husband loves you, and he’s a good man--I’ve +had some talks with him, and I know he’s not got nearly so much on his +conscience as the average husband. I’m a Southern man, and I know these +gay young bloods you’ve danced and flirted with all your young life. Do +you think if you went probing into their secret affairs, you’d have +had much pleasure in their company afterwards? I tell you again, you’re +doing your husband a wrong! You’re doing something that very few men +would stand, as patiently as he has stood it so far.” + +All this time Sylvia had given no sign. So the old gentleman began to +feel a trifle uneasy. “Mind you,” he said, “I’m not saying that men +ought to be like that. They deserve a good hiding, most of them--they’re +very few of them fit to associate with a good woman. I’ve always said +that no man is really good enough for a good woman. But my point is that +when you select one to punish, you select not the guiltiest one, but +simply the one who’s had the misfortune to fall under suspicion. And he +knows that’s not fair; he’d have to be more than human if deep in his +soul he did not bitterly resent it. You understand me?” + +“I understand,” she replied, in the same repressed voice. + +And the doctor rose and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m going home,” + he said--“very probably we’ll never meet each other again. I see you +making a great mistake, laying up unhappiness for yourself in the +future; and I wish to prevent it if I can. I wish to persuade you to +face the facts of the world in which we live. So I am going to tell you +something that I never expected I should tell to a lady.” + +He was looking her straight in the eye. “You see me--I’m an old man, and +I seem fairly respectable to you. You’ve laughed at me some, but even +so, you’ve found it possible to get along with me without too great +repugnance. Well, I’ve had this disease; I’ve had it, and nevertheless +I’ve raised six fine, sturdy children. More than that--I’m not free to +name anybody else, but I happen to know positively that among the men +your husband employs on this island there are two who have the disease +right now. And the next charming and well-bred gentleman you are +introduced to, just reflect that there are at least eight chances in ten +that he has had the disease, and perhaps three or four in ten that he +has it at the minute he’s shaking hands with you. And now you think that +over, and stop tormenting your poor husband!” + +6. One of the first things I did when I reached New York was to send a +little love-letter to Sylvia. I said nothing that would distress her; I +merely assured her that she was in my thoughts, and that I should look +to see her in New York, when we could have a good talk. I put this in +a plain envelope, with a typewritten address, and registered it in the +name of my stenographer. The receipt came back, signed by an unknown +hand, probably the secretary’s. I found out later that the letter never +got to Sylvia. + +No doubt it was the occasion of renewed efforts upon her husband’s part +to obtain from her the promise he desired. He would not be put off with +excuses; and at last he got her answer, in the shape of a letter which +she told him she intended to mail to me. In this letter she announced +her decision that she owed it to her baby to avoid all excitement and +nervous strain during the time that she was nursing it. Her husband had +sent for the yacht, and they were going to Scotland, and in the winter +to the Mediterranean and the Nile. Meantime she would not correspond +with me; but she wished me to know that there was to be no break in our +friendship, and that she would see me upon her return to New York. + +“There is much that has happened that I do not understand,” she added. +“For the present, however, I shall try to dismiss it from my mind. I am +sure you will agree that it is right for me to give a year to being +a mother; as I wish you to feel perfectly at peace in the meantime, I +mention that it is my intention to be a mother only, and not a wife. I +am showing this letter to my husband before I mail it, so that he may +know exactly what I am doing, and what I have decided to do in the +future.” + +“Of course,” he said, after reading this, “you may send the letter, +if you insist--but you must realize that you are only putting off the +issue.” + +She made no reply; and at last he asked, “You mean you intend to defy me +in this matter?” + +“I mean,” she replied, quietly, “that for the sake of my baby I intend +to put off all discussion for a year.” + +7. I figured that I should hear from Claire Lepage about two days after +I reached New York; and sure enough, she called me on the ‘phone. +“I want to see you at once,” she declared; and her voice showed the +excitement under which she was labouring. + +“Very well,” I said, “come down.” + +She entered my little living-room. It was the first time she had ever +visited me, but she did not stop for a glance about her; she did not +even stop to sit down. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Sylvia +Castleman?” she cried. + +“My dear woman,” I replied, “I was not under the least obligation to +tell you.” + +“You have betrayed me!” she exclaimed, wildly. + +“Come, Claire,” I said, after I had looked her in the eye a bit to calm +her. “You know quite well that I was under no bond of secrecy. And, +besides, I haven’t done you any harm.” + +“Why did you do it?” I regret to add that she swore. + +“I never once mentioned your name, Claire.” + +“How much good do you imagine that does me? They have managed to find +out everything. They caught me in a trap.” + +I reminded myself that it would not do to show any pity for her. “Sit +down, Claire,” I said. “Tell me about it.” + +She cried, in a last burst of anger, “I don’t want to talk to you!” + +“All right,” I answered. “But then, why did you come?” + +There was no reply to that. She sat down. “They were too much for me!” + she lamented. “If I’d had the least hint, I might have held my own. As +it was--I let them make a fool of me.” + +“You are talking hieroglyphics to me. Who are ‘they’?” + +“Douglas, and that old fox, Rossiter Torrance.” + +“Rossiter Torrance?” I repeated the name, and then suddenly remembered. +The thin-lipped old family lawyer! + +“He sent up his card, and said he’d been sent to see me by Mary Abbot. +Of course, I had no suspicion--I fell right into the trap. We talked +about you for a while--he even got me to tell him where you lived; and +then at last he told me that he hadn’t come from you at all, but had +merely wanted to find out if I knew you, and how intimate we were. He +had been sent by Douglas; and he wanted to know right away how much I +had told you about Douglas, and why I had done it. Of course, I denied +that I had told anything. Heavens, what a time he gave me!” + +Claire paused. “Mary, how could you have played such a trick upon me?” + +“I had no thought of doing you any harm,” I replied. “I was simply +trying to help Sylvia.” + +“To help her at any expense!” + +“Tell me, what will come of it? Are you afraid they’ll cut off your +allowance?” + +“That’s the threat.” + +“But will they carry it out?” + +She sat, gazing at me resentfully. “I don’t know whether I ought to +trust you any more,” she said. + +“Do what you please about that,” I replied. “I don’t want to urge you.” + +She hesitated a bit longer, and then decided to throw herself upon my +mercy. They would not dare to carry out their threat, so long as Sylvia +had not found out the whole truth. So now she had come to beg me to tell +no more than I had already told. She was utterly abject about it. I had +pretended to be her friend, I had won her confidence and listened to her +confessions; how did I wish to ruin her utterly, to have her cast out on +the street? + +Poor Claire! I said in the early part of my story that she understood +the language of idealism; but I wonder what I have told about her that +justifies this. The truth is, she was going down so fast that already +she seemed a different person; and she had been frightened by the +thin-lipped old family lawyer, so that she was incapable of even a +decent pretence. + +“Claire,” I said, “there is no need for you to go on like this. I +have not the slightest intention of telling Sylvia about you. I cannot +imagine the circumstances that would make me want to tell her. Even if I +should do it, I would tell her in confidence, so that her husband would +never have any idea----” + +She went almost wild at this. To imagine that a woman would keep such a +confidence! As if she would not throw it at her husband’s head the first +time they quarreled! Besides, if Sylvia knew this truth, she might leave +him; and if she left him, Claire’s hold on his money would be gone. + +Over this money we had a long and lachrymose interview. And at the end +of it, there she sat gazing into space, baffled and bewildered. What +kind of a woman was I? How had I got to be the friend of Sylvia van +Tuiver? What had she seen in me, and what did I expect to get out of +her? I answered briefly; and suddenly Claire was overwhelmed by a rush +of curiosity--plain human curiosity. What was Sylvia like? Was she as +clever as they said? What was the baby like, and how was Sylvia taking +the misfortune? Could it really be true that I had been visiting the van +Tuivers in Florida, as old Rossiter Torrance had implied? + +Needless to say, I did not answer these questions freely. And I really +think my visitor was more pained by my uncommunicativeness than she +was by my betrayal of her. It was interesting also to notice a subtle +difference in her treatment of me. Gone was the slight touch of +condescension, gone was most of the familiarity! I had become a +personage, a treasurer of high state secrets, an intimate of the great +ones! There must be something more to me than Claire had realized +before! + +Poor Claire! She passes here from this story. For years thereafter I +used to catch a glimpse of her now and then, in the haunts of the birds +of gorgeous plumage; but I never got a chance to speak to her, nor did +she ever call on me again. So I do not know if Douglas van Tuiver still +continues her eight thousand a year. All I can say is that when I saw +her, her plumage was as gorgeous as ever, and its style duly certified +to the world that it had not been held over from a previous season of +prosperity. Twice I thought she had been drinking too much; but then--so +had many of the other ladies with the little glasses of bright-coloured +liquids before them. + +8. For the rest of that year I knew nothing about Sylvia except what I +read in the “society” column of my newspaper--that she was spending the +late summer in her husband’s castle in Scotland. I myself was suffering +from the strain of what I had been through, and had to take a vacation. +I went West; and when I came back in the fall, to plunge again into my +work, I read that the van Tuivers, in their yacht, the “Triton,” were in +the Mediterranean, and were planning to spend the winter in Japan. + +And then one day in January, like a bolt from the blue, came a cablegram +from Sylvia, dated Cairo: “Sailing for New York, Steamship ‘Atlantic,’ +are you there, answer.” + +Of course I answered. And I consulted the sailing-lists, and waited, +wild with impatience. She sent me a wireless, two days out, and so I was +at the pier when the great vessel docked. Yes, there she was, waving her +handkerchief to me; and there by her side stood her husband. + +It was a long, cold ordeal, while the ship was warped in. We could only +gaze at each other across the distance, and stamp our feet and beat our +hands. There were other friends waiting for the van Tuivers, I saw, +and so I held myself in the background, full of a thousand wild +speculations. How incredible that Sylvia, arriving with her husband, +should have summoned me to meet her! + +At last the gangway was let down, and the stream of passengers began +to flow. In time came the van Tuivers, and their friends gathered +to welcome them. I waited; and at last Sylvia came to me--outwardly +calm--but with her emotions in the pressure of her two hands. “Oh, Mary, +Mary!” she murmured. “I’m so glad to see you! I’m so glad to see you!” + +“What has happened?” I asked. + +Her voice went to a whisper. “I am leaving my husband.” + +“Leaving your husband!” I stood, dumbfounded. + +“Leaving him for ever, Mary.” + +“But--but----” I could not finish the sentence. My eyes moved to where +he stood, calmly chatting with his friends. + +“He insisted on coming back with me, to preserve appearances. He is +terrified of the gossip. He is going all the way home, and then leave +me.” + +“Sylvia! What does it mean?” I whispered. + +“I can’t tell you here. I want to come and see you. Are you living at +the same place?” + +I answered in the affirmative. + +“It’s a long story,” she added. “I must apologise for asking you to come +here, where we can’t talk. But I did it for an important reason. I can’t +make my husband really believe that I mean what I say; and you are my +Declaration of Independence!” And she laughed, but a trifle wildly, and +looking at her suddenly, I realized that she was keyed almost to the +breaking point. + +“You poor dear!” I murmured. + +“I wanted to show him that I meant what I said. I wanted him to see us +meet. You see, he’s going home, thinking that with the help of my people +he can make me change my mind.” + +“But why do you go home? Why not stay here with me? There’s an apartment +vacant next to mine.” + +“And with a baby?” + +“There are lots of babies in our tenement,” I said. But to tell the +truth, I had almost forgotten the baby in the excitement of the moment. +“How is she,” I asked. + +“Come and see,” said Sylvia; and when I glanced enquiringly at the tall +gentleman who was chatting with his friends, she added, “She’s _my_ +baby, and I have a right to show her.” + +The nurse, a rosy-cheeked English girl in a blue dress and a bonnet with +long streamers, stood apart, holding an armful of white silk and lace. +Sylvia turned back the coverings; and again I beheld the vision which +had so thrilled me--the comical little miniature of herself--her nose, +her lips, her golden hair. But oh, the pitiful little eyes, that did not +move! I looked at my friend, uncertain what I should say; I was startled +to see her whole being aglow with mother-pride. “Isn’t she a dear?” she +whispered. “And, Mary, she’s learning so fast, and growing--you couldn’t +believe it!” Oh, the marvel of mother-love, I thought--that is blinder +than any child it ever bore! + +We turned away; and Sylvia said, “I’ll come to you as soon as I’ve got +the baby settled. Our train starts for the South to-night, so I shan’t +waste any time.” + +“God bless you, dear,” I whispered; and she gave my hand a squeeze, and +turned away. I stood for a few moments watching, and saw her approach +her husband, and exchange a few smiling words with him in the presence +of their friends. I, knowing the agony that was in the hearts of that +desperate young couple, marvelled anew at the discipline of caste. + +9. She sat in my big arm-chair; and how proud I was of her, and +how thrilled by her courage. Above all, however, I was devoured by +curiosity. “Tell me!” I exclaimed. + +“There’s so much,” she said. + +“Tell me why you are leaving him.” + +“Mary, because I don’t love him. That’s the one reason. I have thought +it out--I have thought of little else for the last year. I have come to +see that it is wrong for a woman to live with a man she does not love. +It is the supreme crime a woman can commit.” + +“Ah, yes!” I said. “If you have got that far!” + +“I have got that far. Other things have contributed, but they are not +the real things--they might have been forgiven. The fact that he had +this disease, and made my child blind----” + +“Oh! You found out that?” + +“Yes, I found it out.” + +“How?” + +“It came to me little by little. In the end, he grew tired of +pretending, I think.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “The +trouble was over the question of my obligations as a wife. You see, I +had told him at the outset that I was going to live for my baby, and for +her alone. That was the ground upon which he had persuaded me not to see +you or read any of your letters. I was to ask no questions, and be nice +and bovine--and I agreed. But then, a few months ago, my husband came to +me with the story of his needs. He said that the doctors had given their +sanction to our reunion. Of course, I was stunned. I knew that he had +understood me before we left Florida.” + +She stopped. “Yes, dear,” I said, gently. + +“Well, he said now the doctors were agreed there was no danger to either +of us. We could take precautions and not have children. I could only +plead that the whole subject was distressing to me. He had asked me to +put off my problems till my baby was weaned; now I asked him to put off +his. But that would not do, it seemed. He took to arguing with me. It +was an unnatural way to live, and he could not endure it. I was a woman, +and I couldn’t understand this. It seemed utterly impossible to make him +realize what I felt. I suppose he has always had what he wanted, and he +simply does not know what it is to be denied. It wasn’t only a physical +thing, I think; it was an affront to his pride, a denial of his +authority.” She stopped, and I saw her shudder. + +“I have been through it all,” I said. + +“He wanted to know how long I expected to withhold myself. I said, +‘Until I have got this disease out of my mind, as well as out of my +body; until I know that there is no possibility of either of us having +it, to give to the other.’ But then, after I had taken a little more +time to think it over, I said, ‘Douglas, I must be honest with you. I +shall never be able to live with you again. It is no longer a question +of your wishes or mine--it is a question of right or wrong. I do not +love you. I know now that it can never under any circumstances be right +for a woman to give herself in the intimacy of the sex-relation without +love. When she does it, she is violating the deepest instinct of her +nature, the very voice of God in her soul.’ + +“His reply was, ‘Why didn’t you know that before you married?’ + +“I answered, ‘I did not know what marriage meant; and I let myself be +persuaded by others.’ + +“‘By your own mother!’ he declared. + +“I said, ‘A mother who permits her daughter to commit such an offence is +either a slave-dealer, or else a slave.’ Of course, he thought I was +out of my mind at that. He argued about the duties of marriage, the +preserving of the home, wives submitting themselves to their husbands, +and so on. He would not give me any peace----” + +And suddenly she started up. I saw in her eyes the light of old battles. +“Oh, it was a horror!” she cried, beginning to pace the floor. “It +seemed to me that I was living the agony of all the loveless marriages +of the world. I felt myself pursued, not merely by the importunate +desires of one man--I suffered with all the millions of women who give +themselves night after night without love! He came to seem like some +monster to me; I could not meet him unexpectedly without starting. I +forbade him to mention the subject to me again, and for a long time he +obeyed. But several weeks ago he brought it up afresh, and I lost my +self-control completely. ‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘I can stand it no longer! +It is not only the tragedy of my blind child--it’s that you have driven +me to hate you. You have crushed all the life and joy and youth out of +me! You’ve been to me like a terrible black cloud, constantly pressing +down on me, smothering me. You stalk around me like a grim, sepulchral +figure, closing me up in the circle of your narrow ideas. But now I can +endure it no longer. I was a proud, high-spirited girl, you’ve made +of me a colourless social automaton, a slave of your stupid worldly +traditions. I’m turning into a feeble, complaining, discontented wife! +And I refuse to be it. I’m going home--where at least there’s some human +spontaneity left in people; I’m going back to my father!’--And I went +and looked up the next steamer!” + +She stopped. She stood before me, with the fire of her wild Southern +blood shining in her cheeks and in her eyes. + +I sat waiting, and finally she went on, “I won’t repeat all his +protests. When he found that I was really going, he offered to take me +in the yacht, but I wouldn’t go in the yacht. I had got to be really +afraid of him--sometimes, you know, his obstinacy seems to be abnormal, +almost insane. So then he decided he would have to go in the steamer +with me to preserve appearances. I had a letter saying that papa was +not well, and he said that would serve for an excuse. He is going to +Castleman County, and after he has stayed a week or so, he is going off +on a hunting-trip, and not return.” + +“And will he do it?” + +“I don’t think he expects to do it at present. I feel sure he has the +idea of starting mamma to quoting the Bible to me, and dragging me down +with her tears. But I have done all I can to make clear to him that +it will make no difference. I told him I would not say a word about my +intentions at home until he had gone away, and that I expected the same +silence from him. But, of course--” She stopped abruptly, and after a +moment she asked: “What do you think of it, Mary?” + +I leaned forward and took her two hands in mine. “Only,” I said, “that +I’m glad you fought it out alone! I knew it had to come--and I didn’t +want to have to help you to decide!” + +10. She sat for a while absorbed in her own thoughts. Knowing her as I +did, I understood what intense emotions were seething within her, what a +terrific struggle her decision must have represented. + +“Dear Friend,” she said, suddenly, “don’t think I haven’t seen his side +of the case. I try to tell myself that I dealt with him frankly from +the beginning. But then I ask was there ever a man I dealt with frankly? +There was coquetry in the very clothes I wore! And now that we are so +entangled, now that he loves me, what is my duty? I find I can’t respect +his love for me. A part of it is because my beauty fascinates him, but +more of it seems to me just wounded vanity. I was the only woman who +ever flouted him, and he has a kind of snobbery that made him think I +must be something remarkable because of it. I talked that all out with +him--yes, I’ve dragged him through all that humiliation. I wanted to +make him see that he didn’t really love me, that he only wanted to +conquer me, to force me to admire him and submit to him. I want to +be myself, and he wants to be himself--that has always been the issue +between us.” + +“That is the issue in many unhappy marriages,” I said. + +“I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last year,” she resumed--“about +things generally, I mean. We American women think we are so free. That +is because our husbands indulge us, give us money, and let us run +about. But when it comes to real freedom--freedom of intellect and of +character, English women are simply another kind of being from us. I met +a cabinet minister’s wife--he’s a Conservative in everything, and she’s +an ardent suffragist; she not merely gives money, she makes speeches and +has a public name. Yet they are friends, and have a happy home-life. Do +you suppose my husband would consider such an arrangement?” + +“I thought he admired English ways,” I said. + +“There was the Honorable Betty Annersley--the sister of a chum of his. +She was friendly with the militants, and I wanted to talk to her to +understand what such women thought. Yet my husband tried to stop me from +going to see her. And it’s the same way with everything I try to do, +that threatens to take me out of his power. He wanted me to accept +the authority of the doctors as to any possible danger from venereal +disease. When I got the books, and showed him what the doctors admitted +about the question--the narrow margin of safety they allowed, the +terrible chances they took--he was angry again.” + +She stopped, seeing a question in my eyes. “I’ve been reading up on the +subject,” she explained. “I know it all now--the things I should have +known before I married.” + +“How did you manage that?” + +“I tried to get two of the doctors to give me something to read, but +they wouldn’t hear of it. I’d set myself crazy imagining things, it was +no sort of stuff for a woman’s mind. So in the end I took the bit in my +teeth. I found a medical book store, and I went in and said: ‘I am +an American physician, and I want to see the latest works on venereal +disease.’ So the clerk took me to the shelves, and I picked out a couple +of volumes.” + +“You poor child!” I exclaimed. + +“When Douglas found that I was reading these books he threatened to +burn them. I told him ‘There are more copies in the store, and I am +determined to be educated on this subject.’” + +She paused. “How much like my own experience!” I thought. + +“There were chapters on the subject of wives, how much they were not +told, and why this was. So very quickly I began to see around my own +experience. Douglas must have figured out that this would be so, for the +end of the matter was an admission.” + +“You don’t mean he confessed to you!” + +She smiled bitterly. “No,” she said. “He brought Dr. Perrin to London to +do it for him. Dr. Perrin said he had concluded I had best know that my +husband had had some symptoms of the disease. He, the doctor, wished to +tell me who was to blame for the attempt to deceive me. Douglas had been +willing to admit the truth, but all the doctors had forbidden it. I must +realise the fearful problem they had, and not blame them, and, above all +I must not blame my husband, who had been in their hands in the matter.” + +“How stupid men are! As if that would excuse him!” + +“I’m afraid I showed the little man how poor an impression he had +made--both for himself and for his patron. But I had suffered all there +was to suffer, and I was tired of pretending. I told him it would +have been far better for them if they had told me the truth at the +beginning.” + +“Ah, yes!” I said. “That is what I tried to make them see; but all I got +for it was a sentence of deportation!” + +11. When Sylvia’s train arrived at the station of her home town, the +whole family was waiting upon the platform for her, and a good part of +the town besides. The news that she had arrived in New York, and was +coming home on account of her father’s illness, had, of course, been +reproduced in all the local papers, with the result that the worthy +major had been deluged with telegrams and letters concerning his health. +Notwithstanding, he had insisted upon coming to the train to meet his +daughter. He was not going to be shut up in a sickroom to please all the +gossips of two hemispheres. In his best black broad-cloth, his broad, +black hat newly brushed, and his old-fashioned, square-toed shoes newly +shined, he paced up and down the station platform for half an hour, and +it was to his arms that Sylvia flew when she alighted from the train. + +There was “Miss Margaret,” who had squeezed her large person and +fluttering draperies out of the family automobile, and was waiting to +shed tears over her favourite daughter; there was Celeste, radiant with +a wonderful piece of news which she alone was to impart to her sister; +there were Peggy and Maria, shot up suddenly into two amazingly-gawky +girls; there was Master Castleman Lysle, the only son of the house, with +his black-eyed and bad-tempered French governess. And finally there was +Aunt Varina, palpitating with various agitations, not daring to whisper +to anyone else the fears which this sudden home-coming inspired in her. +Bishop Chilton and his wife were away, but a delegation of cousins had +come; also Uncle Mandeville Castleman had sent a huge bunch of roses, +which were in the family automobile, and Uncle Barry Chilton had sent a +pair of wild turkeys, which were soon to be in the family. + +Behind Sylvia stalked her cold and haughty husband, and behind him +tripped the wonderful nursemaid, with her wonderful blue streamers, and +her wonderful bundle of ruffles and lace. All the huge family had to +fall upon Sylvia and kiss and embrace her rapturously, and shake the +hand of the cold and haughty husband, and peer into the wonderful +bundle, and go into ecstasies over its contents. Rarely, indeed, did the +great ones of this earth condescend to spread so much of their emotional +life before the public gaze; and was it any wonder that the town crowded +about, and the proprieties were temporarily repealed? + +It had never been published, but it was generally known throughout the +State that Sylvia’s child was blind, and it was whispered that this +portended something strange and awful. So there hung about the young +mother and the precious bundle an atmosphere of mystery and melancholy. +How had she taken her misfortune? How had she taken all the great events +that had befallen her--her progress through the courts and camps of +Europe? Would she still condescend to know her fellow-townsmen? Many +were the hearts that beat high as she bestowed her largess of smiles +and friendly words. There were even humble old negroes who went off +enraptured to tell the town that “Mi’ Sylvia” had actually shaken hands +with them. There was almost a cheer from the crowd as the string of +automobiles set out for Castleman Hall. + +12. There was a grand banquet that evening, at which the turkeys entered +the family. Not in years had there been so many people crowded into the +big dining-room, nor so many servants treading upon each other’s toes in +the kitchen. + +Such a din of chatter and laughter! Sylvia was her old radiant self, and +her husband was quite evidently charmed by the patriarchal scene. He +was affable, really genial, and won the hearts of everybody; he told +the good major, amid a hush which almost turned his words into a speech, +that he was able to understand how they of the South loved their +own section so passionately; there was about the life an intangible +something--a spell, an elevation of spirit, which set it quite apart +by itself. And since this was the thing which they of the South most +delighted to believe concerning themselves, they listened enraptured, +and set the speaker apart as a rare and discerning spirit. + +Afterwards came the voice of Sylvia: “You must beware of Douglas, Papa; +he is an inveterate flatterer.” She laughed as she said it; and of those +present it was Aunt Varina alone who caught the ominous note, and saw +the bitter curl of her lips as she spoke. Aunt Varina and her niece +were the only persons there who knew Douglas van Tuiver well enough to +appreciate the irony of the term “inveterate flatterer.” + +Sylvia realized at once that her husband was setting out upon a campaign +to win her family to his side. He rode about the major’s plantations, +absorbing information about the bollweevil. He rode back to the house, +and exchanged cigars, and listened to stories of the major’s boyhood +during the war. He went to call upon Bishop Chilton, and sat in his +study, with its walls of faded black volumes on theology. Van Tuiver +himself had had a Church of England tutor, and was a punctilious high +churchman; but he listened respectfully to arguments for a simpler +form of church organization, and took away a voluminous _exposé_ of +the fallacies of “Apostolic Succession.” And then came Aunt Nannie, +ambitious and alert as when she had helped the young millionaire to find +a wife; and the young millionaire made the suggestion that Aunt Nannie’s +third daughter should not fail to visit Sylvia at Newport. + +There was no limit, apparently, to what he would do. He took Master +Castleman Lysle upon his knee, and let him drop a valuable watch upon +the floor. He got up early in the morning and went horse-back riding +with Peggy and Maria. He took Celeste automobiling, and helped by his +attentions to impress the cocksure young man with whom Celeste was in +love. He won “Miss Margaret” by these attentions to all her children, +and the patience with which he listened to accounts of the ailments +which had afflicted the precious ones at various periods of their lives. +To Sylvia, watching all these proceedings, it was as if he were binding +himself to her with so many knots. + +She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone. +But this could not be, she discovered. There was gossip about the +child’s blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into +hiding would have meant an admission of the worst. The ladies of the +family had prepared a grand “reception,” at which all Castleman County +was to come and gaze upon the happy mother. And then there was the +monthly dance at the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the +hope of seeing the royal pair. To Sylvia it was as if her mother and +aunts were behind her every minute of the day, pushing her out into the +world. “Go on, go on! Show yourself! Do not let people begin to talk!” + +13. She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, +Harley Chilton. “Harley,” she said, “my husband is anxious to go on a +hunting-trip. Will you go with him?” + +“When?” asked the boy. + +“Right away; to-morrow or the next day.” + +“I’m game,” said Harley. + +After which she went to her husband. “Douglas, it is time for you to +go.” + +He sat studying her face. “You still have that idea?” he said, at last. + +“I still have it.” + +“I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would +partially return.” + +“I know what you have been hoping, Douglas. And I am sorry--but I am +quite unchanged.” + +“Have we not been getting along happily here?” he demanded. + +“No, I have not--I have been wretched. And I cannot have any peace until +you no longer haunt me. I am sorry for you, but I must be alone--and so +long as you are here the entertainments will continue.” + +“We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments. We +could find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in +peace.” + +“Douglas,” she said, “I have spoken to Cousin Harley. He is ready to +go hunting with you. Please call him up and make arrangements to start +to-morrow. If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for +one of Uncle Mandeville’s plantations.” + +There was a long silence. “Sylvia,” he said, at last, “how long do you +imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?” + +“It will continue forever. My mind is made up. It is necessary that you +make up yours.” + +Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control. “You propose to +keep the baby with you?” he asked, at last. + +“For the present, yes. The baby cannot get along without me.” + +“And for the future?” + +“We will make a fair arrangement as to that. Give me a little time to +get myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in +New York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often +as you please. I have no desire to take her from you--I only want to +take myself from you.” + +“Sylvia,” he said, “have you realized all the unhappiness this course of +yours is going to bring to your people?” + +“Oh, don’t begin that now!” she pleaded. + +“I know,” he said, “how determined you are to punish me. But I should +think you would try to find some way to spare them.” + +“Douglas,” she replied, “I know exactly what you have been doing. I have +watched your change of character since you came here. You may be able +to make my people so unhappy that I must be unhappy also. You see how +deeply I love them, how I yield everything for love of them. But let me +make it clear, I will not yield this. It was for their sake I went into +this marriage, but I have come to see that it was wrong, and no power on +earth can induce me to stay in it. My mind is made up--I will not live +with a man I do not love. I will not even pretend to do it. Now do you +understand me, Douglas?” + +There was a silence, while she waited for some word from him. When none +came, she asked, “You will arrange to go to-morrow?” + +He answered calmly, “I see no reason why I, your husband, should permit +you to pursue this insane course. You propose to leave me; and the +reason you give is one that would, if it were valid, break up two-thirds +of the homes in the country. Your own family will stand by me in my +effort to prevent your ruin.” + +“What do you expect to do?” she asked in a suppressed voice. + +“I have to assume that my wife is insane; and I shall look after her +till she comes to her senses.” + +She sat watching him for a few moments, wondering at him. Then she said, +“You are willing to stay on here, day after day, pursuing me in the only +refuge I have. Well then, I shall not consider your feelings. I have a +work to do here--and I think that when I begin it, you will want to be +far away.” + +“What do you mean?” he asked--and he looked at her as if she were really +a maniac. + +“You see my sister Celeste is about to marry. That was the wonderful +news she had to tell me at the depot. It happens that I have known Roger +Peyton all my life, and know he has the reputation of being one of the +‘fastest’ boys in the town.” + +“Well?” he asked. + +“Just this, Douglas--I do not intend to leave my sister unprotected as +I was. I am going to tell her about Elaine. I am going to tell her +all that she needs to know. It is bound to mean arguments with the old +people, and in the end the whole family will be discussing the subject. +I feel sure you will not care to be here under such circumstances.” + +“And may I ask when this begins?” he inquired, with intense bitterness +in his tone. + +“Right away,” she said. “I have merely been waiting until you should +go.” + +He said not a word, but she knew by the expression on his face that she +had carried her point at last. He turned and left the room; and that +was the last word she had with him, save for their formal parting in the +presence of the family. + +14. Roger Peyton was the son and heir of one of the oldest families +in Castleman County. I had heard of this family before--in a wonderful +story that Sylvia told of the burning of “Rose Briar,” their stately +mansion, some years previously: how the neighbours had turned out to +extinguish the flames, and failing, had danced a last whirl in the +ball-room, while the fire roared in the stories overhead. The house had +since been rebuilt, more splendid than ever, and the prestige of +the family stood undiminished. One of the sons was an old “flame” of +Sylvia’s, and another was married to one of the Chilton girls. As for +Celeste, she had been angling for Roger the past year or two, and she +stood now at the apex of happiness. + +Sylvia went to her father, to talk with him about the difficult subject +of venereal disease. The poor major had never expected to live to hear +such a discourse from a daughter of his; however, with the blind child +under his roof, he could not find words to stop her. “But, Sylvia,” + he protested, “what reason have you to suspect such a thing of Roger +Peyton?” + +“I have the reason of his life. You know that he has the reputation of +being ‘fast’; you know that he drinks, you know that I once refused to +speak to him because he danced with me when he was drunk.” + +“My child, all the men you know have sowed their wild oats.” + +“Papa, you must not take advantage of me in such a discussion. I don’t +claim to know what sins may be included in the phrase ‘wild oats.’ Let +us speak frankly--can you say that you think it unlikely that Roger +Peyton has been unchaste?” + +The major hesitated and coughed; finally he said: “The boy drinks, +Sylvia; further than that I have no knowledge.” + +“The medical books tell me that the use of alcohol tends to break down +self-control, and to make continence impossible. And if that be true, +you must admit that we have a right to ask assurances. What do you +suppose that Roger and his crowd are doing when they go roistering about +the streets at night? What do they do when they go off to Mardi Gras? +Or at college--you know that Cousin Clive had to get him out of trouble +several times. Go and ask Clive if Roger has ever been exposed to the +possibility of these diseases.” + +“My child,” said the major, “Clive would not feel he had the right to +tell me such things about his friend.” + +“Not even when the friend wants to marry his cousin?” + +“But such questions are not asked, my daughter.” + +“Papa, I have thought this matter out carefully, and I hava something +definite to propose to you. I have no idea of stopping with what Clive +Chilton may or may not see fit to tell about his chum. I want _you_ to +go to Roger.” + +Major Castleman’s face wore a blank stare. + +“If he’s going to marry your daughter, you have the right to ask about +his past. What I want you to tell him is that you will get the name of a +reputable specialist in these diseases, and that before he can have your +daughter he must present you with a letter from this man, to the effect +that he is fit to marry.” + +The poor major was all but speechless. “My child, who ever heard of such +a proposition?” + +“I don’t know that any one ever did, papa. But it seems to me time they +should begin to hear of it; and I don’t see who can have a better right +to take the first step than you and I, who have paid such a dreadful +price for our neglect.” + +Sylvia had been prepared for opposition--the instinctive opposition +which men manifest to having this embarrassing subject dragged out into +the light of day. Even men who have been chaste themselves--good fathers +of families like the major--cannot be unaware of the complications +incidental to frightening their women-folk, and setting up an impossibly +high standard in sons-in-law. But Sylvia stood by her guns; at last she +brought her father to his knees by the threat that if he could not bring +himself to talk with Roger Peyton, she, Sylvia Castleman, would do it. + +15. The young suitor came by appointment the next day, and had a session +with the Major in his office. After he had gone, Sylvia went to her +father and found him pacing the floor, with an extinct cigar between his +lips, and several other ruined cigars lying on the hearth. + +“You asked him, papa?” + +“I did, Sylvia.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“Why, daughter----” The major flung his cigar from him with desperate +energy. “It was most embarrassing!” he exclaimed--“most painful!” His +pale old face was crimson with blushes. + +“Go on, papa,” said Sylvia, gentle but firm. + +“The poor boy--naturally, Sylvia, he could not but feel hurt that I +should think it necessary to ask such questions. Such things are not +done, my child. It seemed to him that I must look upon him as--well, as +much worse than other young fellows----” + +The old man stopped, and began to walk restlessly up and down. “Yes, +papa,” said Sylvia. “What else?” + +“Well, he said it seemed to him that such a matter might have been left +to the honour of a man whom I was willing to think of as a son-in-law. +And you see, my child, what an embarrassing position I was in; I could +not give him any hint as to my reason for being anxious about these +matters--anything, you understand, that might be to the discredit of +your husband.” + +“Go on, papa.” + +“Well, I gave him a fatherly talking to about his way of life.” + +“Did you ask him the definite question as to his health?” + +“No, Sylvia.” + +“Did he tell you anything definite?” + +“No.” + +“Then you didn’t do what you had set out to do!” + +“Yes, I did. I told him that he must see a doctor.” + +“You made quite clear to him what you wanted?” + +“Yes, I did--really, I did.” + +“And what did he say?” She went to him and took his arm and led him to a +couch. “Come, papa, let us get to the facts. You must tell me.” They sat +down, and the major sighed, lit a fresh cigar, rolled it about in his +fingers until it was ruined, and then flung it away. + +“Boys don’t talk freely to older men,” he said. “They really never do. +You may doubt this----” + +“What did he _say,_ papa?” + +“Why, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really say anything.” And +here the major came to a complete halt. + +His daughter, after studying his face for a minute, remarked, “In plain +words, papa, you think he has something to hide, and he may not be able +to give you the evidence you asked?” + +The other was silent. + +“You fear that is the situation, but you are trying not to believe it.” + As he still said nothing, Sylvia whispered, “Poor Celeste!” + +Suddenly she put her hands upon his shoulders, and looked into his eye. +“Papa, can’t you see what that means--that Celeste ought to have been +told these things long ago?” + +“What good would that have done?” he asked, in bewilderment. + +“She could have known what kind of man she was choosing; and she might +be spared the dreadful unhappiness that is before her now.” + +“Sylvia! Sylvia!” protested the other. “Surely such things cannot be +discussed with innocent young girls!” + +“So long as we refuse to do it, we are simply entering into a conspiracy +with the man of loose life, so that he may escape the worst penalty of +his evil-doing. Take the boys in our own set--why is it they feel safe +in running off to the big cities and ‘sowing their wild oats’--even +sowing them in the obscure parts of their own town? Is it not because +they know that their sisters and girl friends are ignorant and +helpless; so that when they are ready to pick a wife, they will be at no +disadvantage? Here is Celeste; she knows that Roger has been ‘wild,’ but +no one has hinted to her what that means; she thinks of things that +are picturesque--that he’s high-spirited, and brave, and free with his +money.” + +“But, my daughter,” protested the major, “such knowledge would have a +terrible effect upon young girls!” He rose and began to pace the floor +again. “Daughter, you are letting yourself run wild! The sweetness, the +virginal innocence of young and pure women--if you take that from +them, there’d be nothing left to keep men from falling to the level of +brutes!” + +“Papa,” said Sylvia, “all that sounds well, but it has no meaning. I +have been robbed of my ‘innocence,’ and I know that it has not debased +me. It has only fitted me to deal with the realities of life. And it +will do the same for any girl who is taught by earnest and reverent +people. Now, as it is, we have to tell Celeste, but we tell her too +late.” + +“But we _won’t_ have to tell her!” cried the major. + +“Dear papa, please explain how we can avoid telling her.” + +“I will inform her that she must give the young man up. She is a good +and dutiful daughter----” + +“Yes,” replied Sylvia, “but suppose on this one occasion she were to +fail to be good and dutiful? Suppose the next day you learn that she had +run away and married Roger--what would you do about it then?” + +16. That evening Roger was to take his _fiancée_ to one of the young +people’s dances. And there was Celeste, in a flaming red dress, with +a great bunch of flaming roses; she could wear these colours, with her +brilliant black hair and gorgeous complexion. Roger was fair, with a +frank, boyish face, and they made a pretty couple; but that evening +Roger did not come. Sylvia helped to dress her sister, and then watched +her wandering restlessly about the hall, while the hour came and went. +Later in the evening Major Castleman called up the Peyton home. The boy +was not there, and no one seemed to know where he was. + +Nor the next day did there come any explanation. At the Peytons it was +still declared that no one had heard from Roger, and for another day +the mystery continued, to Celeste’s distress and mortification. At +last, from Clive Chilton, Sylvia managed to extract the truth. Roger +was drunk--crazy drunk, and had been taken off by some of the boys to be +straightened out. + +Of course this rumour soon got to the rest of the family and they had +to tell Celeste, because she was frantic with anxiety. There were grave +consultations among the Castleman ladies. It was a wanton affront to his +_fiancée_ that the boy had committed, and something must be done about +it quickly. Then came the news that Roger had escaped from his warders, +and got drunker than ever; he had been out at night, smashing the street +lamps, and it had required extreme self-control on the part of the town +police force to avoid complications. + +“Miss Margaret” went to her young daughter, and in a tear-flooded +scene informed her of the opinion of the family, that her self-respect +required the breaking of the engagement. Celeste went into hysterics. +She would _not_ have her happiness ruined for life! Roger was “wild,” + but so were all the other boys--and he would atone for his recklessness. +She had the idea that if only she could get hold of him, she could +recall him to his senses; the more her mother was scandalised by this +proposal, the more frantically Celeste wept. She shut herself up in +her room, refusing to appear at meals, and spending her time pacing the +floor and wringing her hands. + +The family had been through all this with their eldest daughter several +years before, but they had not learned to handle it any better. The +whole household was in a state of distraction, and the conditions grew +worse day by day, as bulletins came in concerning the young man. He +seemed to have gone actually insane. He was not to be restrained even by +his own father, and if the unfortunate policemen could be believed, he +had violently attacked them. Apparently he was trying to break down the +unwritten law that the sons of the “best families” are not arrested. + +Poor Celeste, with pale, tear-drenched face, sent for her elder sister, +to make one last appeal. Could Sylvia not somehow get hold of Roger and +bring him to his senses? Could she not interview some of the other boys, +and find out what he meant by his conduct? + +So Sylvia went to her cousin Clive, and had a talk with him--assuredly +the most remarkable talk that that young man had ever had in his life. +She told him that she wanted to know the truth about Roger Peyton, +and after a cross-examination that would have made the reputation of a +criminal lawyer, she got what she wanted. All the young men in town, it +seemed, knew the true state of affairs, and were in a panic concerning +it; that Major Castleman had sent for Roger and informed him that +he could not marry his daughter, until he produced a certain kind of +medical certificate. No, he couldn’t produce it! Was there a fellow in +town who could produce it? What was there for him to do but to get drunk +and stay drunk, until Celeste had cast him off? + +It was Clive’s turn then to do some plain speaking. “Look here, Sylvia,” + he said, “since you have made me talk about this----” + +“Yes, Clive?” + +“Do you know what people are saying--I mean the reason the Major made +this proposition to Roger?” + +She answered, in a quiet voice: “I suppose, Clive, it has something to +do with Elaine.” + +“Yes, exactly!” exclaimed Clive. “They say--” But then he stopped. He +could not repeat it. “Surely you don’t want that kind of talk, Sylvia?” + +“Naturally, Clive, I’d prefer to escape that kind of talk, but my fear +of it will not make me neglect the protection of my sister.” + +“But Sylvia,” cried the boy, “you don’t understand about this! A woman +_can’t_ understand about these things----” + +“You are mistaken, my dear cousin,” said Sylvia--and her voice was firm +and decisive. “I _do_ understand.” + +“All right!” cried Clive, with sudden exasperation. “But let me tell +you this--Celeste is going to have a hard time getting any other man to +propose to her!” + +“You mean, Clive, because so many of them are----?” + +“Yes, if you must put it that way,” he said. + +There was a pause, then Sylvia went on: “Let us discuss the practical +problem, Clive. Don’t you think it would have been better if Roger, +instead of going off and getting drunk, had set about getting himself +cured?” + +The other looked at her, with evident surprise. “You mean in that case +Celeste might marry him?” + +“You say the boys are all alike, Clive; and we can’t turn our girls into +nuns. Why didn’t some of you fellows point that out to Roger?” + +“The truth is,” said Clive, “we tried to.” There was a little more +cordiality in his manner, since Sylvia had shown such a unexpected +amount of intelligence. + +“Well?” she asked. “What then?” + +“Why, he wouldn’t listen to anything.” + +“You mean--because he was drunk?” + +“No, we had him nearly sober. But you see--” And Clive paused for +a moment, painfully embarrassed. “The truth is, Roger had been to a +doctor, and been told it might take him a year or two to get cured.” + +“Clive!” she cried. “Clive! And you mean that in the face of that, he +proposed to go on and marry?” + +“Well, Sylvia, you see--” And the young man hesitated still longer. He +was crimson with embarrassment, and suddenly he blurted out: “The truth +is, the doctor told him to marry. That was the only way he’d ever get +cured.” + +Sylvia was almost speechless. “Oh! Oh!” she cried, “I can’t believe +you!” + +“That’s what the doctors tell you, Sylvia. You don’t understand--it’s +just as I told you, a woman can’t understand. It’s a question of a man’s +nature----” + +“But Clive--what about the wife and her health? Has the wife no rights +whatever?” + +“The truth is, Sylvia, people don’t take this disease with such +desperate seriousness. You understand, it isn’t the one that everybody +knows is dangerous. It doesn’t do any real harm----” + +“Look at Elaine! Don’t you call that real harm?” + +“Yes, but that doesn’t happen often, and they say there are ways it can +be prevented. Anyway, fellows just can’t help it! God knows we’d help it +if we could.” + +Sylvia thought for a moment, and then came back to the immediate +question. “It’s evident what Roger could do in this case. He is young, +and Celeste is still younger. They might wait a couple of years and +Roger might take care of himself, and in time it might be properly +arranged.” + +But Clive did not seem too warm to the proposition, and Sylvia, who knew +Roger Peyton, was not long in making out the reason. “You mean you don’t +think he has character enough to keep straight for a year or two?” + +“To tell you the honest truth, we talked it out with him, and he +wouldn’t make any promises.” + +To which Sylvia answered: “Very well, Clive--that settles it. You can +help me find some man for Celeste who loves her a little more than +that!” + +17. That afternoon came Aunt Nannie, the Bishop’s wife, in shining +chestnut-coloured silk to match a pair of shining chestnut-coloured +horses. Other people, it appeared, had been making inquiries into Roger +Peyton’s story, and other people besides Clive Chilton had been telling +the truth. Aunt Nannie gathered the ladies of the family in a hurried +conference, and Sylvia was summoned to appear before it--quite as in the +days of her affair with Frank Shirley. + +“Miss Margaret” and Aunt Varina were solemn and frightened, as of old; +and, as of old, Aunt Nannie did the talking. “Sylvia, do you know what +people are saying about you?” + +“Yes, Aunt Nannie” said Sylvia. + +“Oh, you do know?” + +“Yes, of course. And I knew in advance that they would say it.” + +Something about the seraphic face of Sylvia, chastened by terrible +suffering, must have suggested to Mrs. Chilton the idea of caution. +“Have you thought of the humiliation this must inflict upon your +relatives?” + +“I have found, Aunt Nannie,” said Sylvia, “that there are worse +afflictions than being talked about.” + +“I am not sure,” declared the other, “that anything could be worse than +to be the object of the kind of gossip that is now seething around +our family. It has been the tradition of our people to bear their +afflictions in silence.” + +“In this case, Aunt Nannie, it is obvious that silence would have meant +more afflictions, many more. I have thought of my sister--and of all the +other girls in our family, who may be led to sacrifice by the ambitions +of their relatives.” Sylvia paused a moment, so that her words might +have effect. + +Said the bishop’s wife: “Sylvia, we cannot undertake to save the world +from the results of its sins. God has his own ways of punishing men.” + +“Perhaps so, but surely God does not wish the punishment to fall upon +innocent young girls. For instance, Aunt Nannie, think of your own +daughters----” + +“My daughters!” broke out Mrs. Chilton. And then, mastering her +excitement: “At least, you will permit me to look after my own +children.” + +“I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich +came into the room last night. Have you noticed anything?” + +“Yes--what of it?” + +“It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom.” + +“Why should she not? I certainly consider him an eligible man.” + +“And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton’s set. +You know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, +and you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him! You have taken no +steps to find out about him--you have not warned your daughter--” + +Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation. “Warned my daughter! Who ever +heard of such a thing?” + +Said Sylvia, quietly: “I can believe that you never heard of it--but you +will hear soon. The other day I had a talk with Lucy May--” + +“Sylvia Castleman!” And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself +that she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic. “Sylvia,” she said, in a +suppressed voice, “you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my +young daughter’s mind--” + +“You have brought her up well,” said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for +lack of words. “She did not want to listen to me. She said that young +girls ought not to know about such matters. But I pointed out Elaine, +and then she changed her mind--just as you will have to change yours in +the end, Aunt Nannie.” + +Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving. Then suddenly +she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman. “Margaret, cannot you +stop this shocking business? I demand that the tongues of gossip shall +no longer clatter around the family of which I am a member! My husband +is the bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name +is of no importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and +authority of the church may have some weight----” + +“Aunt Nannie,” interrupted Sylvia, “it will do no good to drag Uncle +Basil into this matter. I fear you will have to face the fact that from +this time on your authority in our family is to be diminished. You had +more to do than any other person with driving me into the marriage that +has wrecked my life, and now you want to go on and do the same thing for +my sister and for your own daughters--to marry them with no thought of +anything save the social position of the man. And in the same way you +are saving up your sons to find rich girls. You know that you kept +Clive from marrying a poor girl in this town a couple of years ago--and +meantime it seems to be nothing to you that he’s going with men like +Roger Peyton and Tom Aldrich, learning all the vices the women in the +brothels have to teach him----” + +Poor “Miss Margaret” had several times made futile efforts to check +her daughter’s outburst. Now she and Aunt Varina started up at the same +time. “Sylvia! Sylvia! You must not talk like that to your aunt!” + +And Sylvia turned and gazed at them with her sad eyes. “From now on,” + she said, “that is the way I am going to talk. You are a lot of ignorant +children. I was one too, but now I know. And I say to you: Look at +Elaine! Look at my little one, and see what the worship of Mammon has +done to one of the daughters of your family!” + +18. After this, Sylvia had her people reduced to a state of terror. She +was an avenging angel, sent by the Lord to punish them for their sins. +How could one rebuke the unconventionality of an avenging angel? On the +other hand, of course, one could not help being in agony, and letting +the angel see it in one’s face. Outside, there were the tongues of +gossip clattering, as Aunt Nannie had said; quite literally everyone +in Castleman County was talking about the blindness of Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver’s baby, and how, because of it, the mother was setting out on +a campaign to destroy the modesty of the State. The excitement, the +curiosity, the obscene delight of the world came rolling back into +Castleman Hall in great waves, that picked up the unfortunate inmates +and buffeted them about. + +Family consultations were restricted, because it was impossible for +the ladies of the family to talk to the gentlemen about these horrible +things; but the ladies talked to the ladies, and the gentlemen talked to +the gentlemen, and each came separately to Sylvia with their distress. +Poor, helpless “Miss Margaret” would come wringing her hands, and +looking as if she had buried all her children. “Sylvia! Sylvia! Do you +realise that you are being DISCUSSED?” That was the worst calamity +that could befal a woman in Castleman County--it summed up all +possible calamities that could befal her--to be “discussed.” “They were +discussing you once when you wanted to marry Frank Shirley! And now--oh, +now they will never stop discussing you!” + +Then would come the dear major. He loved his eldest daughter as he loved +nothing else in the world, and he was a just man at heart. He could not +meet her arguments--yes, she was right, she was right. But then he would +go away, and the waves of scandal and shame would come rolling. + +“My child,” he pleaded, “have you thought what this thing is doing to +your husband? Do you realise that while you talk about protecting +other people, you are putting upon Douglas a brand that will follow him +through life?” + +Uncle Mandeville came up from New Orleans to see his favourite niece; +and the wave smote him as he alighted from the train, and he became so +much excited that he went to the club and got drunk, and then could not +see his niece, but had to be carried off upstairs and given forcible +hypodermics. Cousin Clive told Sylvia about it afterwards--how Uncle +Mandeville refused to believe the truth, and swore that he would shoot +some of these fellows if they didn’t stop talking about his niece. Said +Clive, with a grim laugh: “I told him: ‘If Sylvia had her way, you’d +shoot a good part of the men in the town.’” He answered: “Well, by God, +I’ll do it--it would serve the scoundrels right!” And he tried to get +out of bed and get his pants and his pistols--so that in the end it was +necessary to telephone for the major, and then for Barry Chilton and two +of his gigantic sons from their plantation. + +Sylvia had her way, and talked things out with the agonised Celeste. +And the next day came Aunt Varina, hardly able to contain herself. +“Oh, Sylvia, such a horrible thing! To hear such words coming from your +little sister’s lips--like the toads and snakes in the fairy story! To +think of these ideas festering in a young girl’s brain!” And then again: +“Sylvia, your sister declares she will never go to a party again! +You are teaching her to hate men! You will make her a STRONG-MINDED +woman!”--that was another phrase they had summing up a whole universe +of horrors. Sylvia could not recall a time when she had not heard that +warning. “Be careful, dear, when you express an opinion, always end +it with a question: ‘Don’t you think so?’ or something like that, +otherwise, men may get the idea that you are ‘STRONG-MINDED’!” + +Sylvia, in her girlhood, had heard vague hints and rumours which now she +was able to interpret in the light of her experience. In her courtship +days she had met a man who always wore gloves, even in the hottest +weather, and she had heard that this was because of some affliction +of the skin. Now, talking with the young matrons of her own set, she +learned that this man had married, and had since had to take to a +wheel-chair, while his wife had borne a child with a monstrous deformed +head, and had died of the ordeal and the shock. + +Oh, the stories that one uncovered--right in one’s own town, among one’s +own set--like foul sewers underneath the pavements! The succession of +deceased generations, of imbeciles, epileptics, paralytics! The innocent +children born to a life-time of torment; the women hiding their secret +agonies from the world! Sometimes women went all through life without +knowing the truth about themselves. There was poor Mrs. Valens, for +example, who reclined all day upon the gallery of one of the most +beautiful homes in the county, and showed her friends the palms of her +hands, all covered with callouses and scales, exclaiming: “What in +the world do you suppose can be the matter with me?” She had been a +beautiful woman, a “belle” of “Miss Margaret’s” day; she had married a +man who was rich and handsome and witty--and a rake. Now he was drunk +all the time, and two of his children had died in hospital, and another +had arms that came out of joint, and had to be put in plaster of Paris +for months at a time. His wife, the one-time darling of society, would +lie on her couch and read the Book of Job until she knew it by heart. + +And could you believe it, when Sylvia came home, ablaze with excitement +over the story, she found that the only thing that her relatives +were able to see in it was the Book of Job! Under the burden of her +afflictions the woman had become devout; and how could anyone fail to +see in this the deep purposes of Providence revealed? “Verily,” said +“Miss Margaret,” “‘whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.’ We are told in +the Lord’s Word that ‘the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon +the children, even unto the third and fourth generations,’ and do you +suppose the Lord would have told us that, if He had not known there +would be such children?” + +19. I cannot pass over this part of my story without bringing forward +Mrs. Armistead, the town cynic, who constituted herself one of Sylvia’s +sources of information in the crisis. Mrs. Sallie Ann Armistead was +the mother of two boys with whom Sylvia, as a child, had insisted upon +playing, in spite of the protests of the family. “Wha’ fo’ you go wi’ +dem Armistead chillun, Mi’ Sylvia?” would cry Aunt Mandy, the cook. +“Doan’ you know they granddaddy done pick cottin in de fiel’ ‘long o’ +me?” But while her father was picking cotton, Sallie Ann had looked +after her complexion and her figure, and had married a rising young +merchant. Now he was the wealthy proprietor of a chain of “nigger +stores,” and his wife was the possessor of the most dreaded tongue in +Castleman County. + +She was a person who, if she had been born a duchess, would have made +a reputation in history; the one woman in the county who had a mind +and was not afraid to have it known. She used all the tricks of a +duchess--lorgnettes, for example, with which she stared people into +a state of fright. She did not dare try anything like that on the +Castlemans, of course, but woe to the little people who crossed her +path! She had an eye that sought out every human weakness, and such a +wit that even her victims were fascinated. One of the legends about her +told how her dearest foe, a dashing young matron, had died, and all the +friends had gathered with their floral tributes. Sallie Ann went in to +review the remains, and when she came out a sentimental voice inquired: +“And how does our poor Ruth look?” + +“Oh,” was the answer, “as old and grey as ever!” + +Now Mrs. Armistead stopped Sylvia in the street: “My dear, how goes the +eugenics campaign?” + +And while Sylvia gazed, dumbfounded, the other went on as if she were +chatting about the weather: “You can’t realise what a stir you are +making in our little frog pond. Come, see me, and let me tell you the +gossip! Do you know you’ve enriched our vocabulary?” + +“I have made someone look up the meaning of eugenics, at least,” + answered Sylvia--having got herself together in haste. + +“Oh, not only that, my dear. You have made a new medical term--the ‘van +Tuiver disease.’ Isn’t that interesting?” + +For a moment Sylvia shrivelled before this flame from hell. But then, +being the only person who had ever been able to chain this devil, she +said: “Indeed? I hope that with so fashionable a name the disease does +not become an epidemic!” + +Mrs. Armistead gazed at her, and then, in a burst of enthusiasm, she +exclaimed: “Sylvia Castleman, I have always insisted that one of the +most interesting women in the world was spoiled by the taint of goodness +in you.” + +She took Sylvia to her bosom, as it were. “Let us sit on the fence and +enjoy this spectacle! My dear, you can have no idea what an uproar you +are making! The young married women gather in their boudoirs and whisper +ghastly secrets to each other; some of them are sure they have it, and +some of them say they can trust their husbands--as if any man could be +trusted as far as you can throw a bull by the horns! Did you hear +about poor Mrs. Pattie Peyton, she has the measles, but she sent for a +specialist, and vowed she had something else--she had read about it, and +knew all the symptoms, and insisted on having elaborate blood-tests! And +little Mrs. Stanley Pendleton has left her husband, and everybody says +that’s the reason. The men are simply shivering in their boots--they +steal into the doctor’s offices by the back-doors, and a whole car-load +of the boys have been shipped off to Hot Springs to be boiled--” And +so on, while Mrs. Armistead revelled in the sensation of strolling down +Main Street with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + +Then Sylvia would go home, and get the newest reactions of the family +to these horrors. Aunt Nannie, it seemed, made the discovery that Basil, +junr., her fifth son, was carrying on an intrigue with a mulatto girl +in the town; and she forbade him to go to Castleman Hall, for fear lest +Sylvia should worm the secret out of him; also she shipped Lucy May off +to visit a friend, and came and tried to persuade Mrs. Chilton to do +the same with Peggy and Maria, lest Sylvia should somehow corrupt these +children. + +The bishop came, having been ordered to preach religion to his wayward +niece. Poor dear Uncle Basil--he had tried preaching religion to Sylvia +many years ago, and never could do it because he loved her so well that +with all his Seventeenth Century theology he could not deny her chance +of salvation. Now the first sight that met his eyes when he came to +see her was his little blind grand-niece. And also he had in his secret +heart the knowledge that he, a rich and gay young planter before he +became converted to Methodism, had played with the fire of vice, and +been badly burned. So Sylvia did not find him at all the Voice of +Authority, but just a poor, hen-pecked, unhappy husband of a tyrannous +Castleman woman. + +The next thing was that “Miss Margaret” took up the notion that a time +such as this was not one for Sylvia’s husband to be away from her. +What if people were to say that they had separated? There were family +consultations, and in the midst of them there came word that van Tuiver +was called North upon business. When the family delegations came to +Sylvia, to insist that she go with him, the answer they got was that +if they could not let her stay quietly at home without asking her any +questions, she would go off to New York and live with a divorced woman +Socialist! + +“Of course, they gave up,” she wrote me. “And half an hour ago poor dear +mamma came to my room and said: ‘Sylvia, dear, we will let you do what +you want, but won’t you please do one small favour for me?’ I got ready +for trouble, and asked what she wanted. Her answer was: ‘Won’t you go +with Celeste to the Young Matrons’ Cotillion tomorrow night, so that +people won’t think there’s anything the matter?’” + +20. Roger Peyton had gone off to Hot Springs, and Douglas van Tuiver was +in New York; so little by little the storms about Castleman Hall began +to abate in violence. Sylvia was absorbed with her baby, and beginning +to fit her life into that of her people. She found many ways in which +she could serve them--entertaining Uncle Mandeville to keep him sober; +checking the extravagrance of Celeste; nursing Castleman Lysle through +green apple convulsions. That was to be her life for the future, she +told herself, and she was making herself really happy in it--when +suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, came an event that swept her poor +little plans into chaos. + +It was an afternoon in March, the sun was shining brightly and the +Southern springtime was in full tide, and Sylvia had had the old family +carriage made ready, with two of the oldest and gentlest family horses, +and took the girls upon a shopping expedition to town. In the front seat +sat Celeste, driving, with two of her friends, and in the rear seat was +Sylvia, with Peggy and Maria. When an assemblage of allurements such as +this stopped on the streets of the town, the young men would come out +of the banks and the offices and gather round to chat. There would be +a halt before an ice-cream parlour, and a big tray of ices would be +brought out, and the girls would sit in the carriage and eat, and the +boys would stand on the curb and eat--undismayed by the fact that +they had welcomed half a dozen such parties during the afternoon. The +statistics proved that this was a thriving town, with rapidly increasing +business, but there was never so much business as to interfere with +gallantries like these. + +Sylvia enjoyed the scene; it took her back to happy days, before black +care had taken his seat behind her. She sat in a kind of dream, only +half hearing the merriment of the young people, and only half tasting +her ice. How she loved this old town, with its streets deep in black +spring mud, its mud-plastered “buck-boards” and saddle horses hitched +at every telegraph pole! Its banks and stores and law offices seemed +shabbier after one had made the “grand tour,” but they were none the +less dear to her for that. She would spend the rest of her days in +Castleman County, and the sunshine and peace would gradually enfold her. + +Such were her thoughts when the unforeseen event befel. A man on +horse-back rode down a side-street, crossing Main Street a little way in +front of her; a man dressed in khaki, with a khaki riding hat pulled low +over his face. He rode rapidly--appearing and vanishing, so that Sylvia +scarcely saw him--really did not see him with her conscious mind at all. +Her thoughts were still busy with dreams, and the clatter of boys and +girls; but deep within her had begun a tumult--a trembling, a pounding +of the heart, a clamouring under the floors of her consciousness. + +And slowly this excitement mounted. What was the matter, what had +happened? A man had ridden by, but why should a man--. Surely it could +not have been--no. There were hundreds of men in Castleman County who +wore khaki and rode horse-back, and had sturdy, thick-set figures! But +then, how could she make a mistake? How could her instinct have betrayed +her so? It was that same view of him as he sat on a horse that had first +thrilled her during the hunting party years ago! + +He had gone West, and had said that he would never return. He had not +been heard from in years. What an amazing thing, that a mere glimpse of +a man who looked and dressed and rode like him should be able to set her +whole being into such a panic! How futile became her dreams of peace! + +She heard the sound of a vehicle close beside her carriage, and turned +and found herself looking into the sharp eyes of Mrs. Armistead. It +happened that Sylvia was on the side away from the curb, and there was +no one talking to her; so Mrs. Armistead ran her electric alongside, and +had the stirring occasion to herself. Sylvia looked into her face, so +full of malice, and knew two things in a flash: First, it really had +been Frank Shirley riding by; and second, Mrs. Armistead had seen him! + +“Another candidate for your eugenics class!” said the lady. + +Sylvia glanced at the young people and made sure they were paying no +attention. She might have made some remark that would have brought +them into the conversation, and delivered her from the torments of this +devil. But no, she had never quailed from Mrs. Armistead in her life, +and she would not now give her the satisfaction of driving off to tell +the town that Sylvia van Tuiver had seen Frank Shirley, and had been +overcome by it, and had taken refuge behind the skirts of her little +sisters! + +“You can see I have my carriage full of pupils” she said, smilingly. + +“How happy it must make you, Sylvia--coming home and meeting all your +old friends! It must set you trembling with ecstasy--angels singing in +the sky above you--little golden bells ringing all over you!” + +Sylvia recognised these phrases. They were part of an effort she had +made to describe the raptures of young love to her bosom friend, Harriet +Atkinson. And so Harriet had passed them on to the town! And they had +been cherished all these years. + +She could not afford to recognise these illegitimate children of +romance. “Mrs. Armistead,” she said, “I had no idea you had so much +poetry in you!” + +“I am simply improvising, my dear--upon the colour in your cheeks at +present!” + +There was no way save to be bold. “You couldn’t expect me not to be +excited, Mrs. Armistead. You see, I had no idea he had come back from +the West.” + +“They say he left a wife there.” remarked the lady, innocently. + +“Ah!” said Sylvia. “Then he will not be staying long, presumably.” + +There was a pause; all at once Mrs. Armistead’s voice became gentle +and sympathetic. “Sylvia,” she said, “don’t imagine that I fail to +appreciate what is going on in your heart. I know a true romance when I +see one. If only you could have known in those days what you know now, +there might have been one beautiful love story that did not end as a +tragedy.” + +You would have thought the lady’s better self had suddenly been touched. +But Sylvia knew her; too many times she had seen this huntress trying to +lure a victim out of his refuge. + +“Yes, Mrs. Armistead,” she said, gently. “But I have the consolation at +least of being a martyr to science.” + +“In what way?” + +“Have you forgotten the new medical term that I have given to the +world?” + +And Mrs. Armistead looked at her for a moment aghast. “My God, Sylvia!” + she whispered; and then--an honest tribute: “You certainly can take care +of yourself!” + +“Yes,” said Sylvia. “Tell that to my other friends in town.” And so, at +last, Mrs. Armistead started her machine, and this battle of hell-cats +came to an end. + +21. Sylvia rode home in a daze, answering without hearing the prattle of +the children. She was appalled at the emotions that possessed her--that +the sight of Frank Shirley riding down the street could have affected +her so! She forgot Mrs. Armistead, she forgot the whole world, in her +dismay over her own state of mind. Having dismissed Frank from her life +and her thoughts forever, it seemed to her preposterous that she should +be at the mercy of such an excitement. + +She found herself wondering about her family. Did they know that Frank +Shirley had returned? Would they have failed to mention it to her? For +a moment she told herself it would not have occurred to them she could +have any interest in the subject. But no--they were not so _naive_--the +Castleman women--as their sense of propriety made them pretend to be! +But how stupid of them not to give her warning! Suppose she had happened +to meet Frank face to face, and in the presence of others! She must +certainly have betrayed her excitement; and just at this time, when the +world had the Castleman family under the microscope! + +She told herself that she would avoid such difficulty in future; she +would stay at home until Frank had gone away. If he had a wife in +the West, presumably he had merely come for a visit to his mother and +sisters. And then Sylvia found herself in an argument with herself. What +possible difference could it make that Frank Shirley had a wife? So long +as she, Sylvia, had a husband, what else mattered? Yet she could not +deny it--it brought her a separate and additional pang that Frank +Shirley should have married. What sort of wife could he have found--he, +a stranger in the far West? And why had he not brought his wife home to +his people? + +When she stepped out of the carriage, it was with her mind made up that +she would stay at home until all danger was past. But the next afternoon +a neighbour called up to ask Sylvia and Celeste to come and play cards +in the evening. It was not a party, Mrs. Witherspoon explained to “Miss +Margaret,” who answered the ‘phone; just a few friends and a good time, +and she did so hope that Sylvia was not going to refuse. The mere +hint of the fear that Sylvia might refuse was enough to excite Mrs. +Castleman. Why should Sylvia refuse? So she accepted the invitation, and +then came to plead with her daughter--for Celeste’s sake, and for the +sake of all her family, so that the world might see that she was not +crushed by misfortune! + +There were reasons why the invitation was a difficult one to decline. +Mrs. Virginia Witherspoon was the daughter of a Confederate general +whose name you read in every history-book; and she had a famous old +home in the country which was falling about her ears--her husband being +seldom sober enough to know what was happening. She had also three +blossoming daughters, whom she must manage to get out of the home before +the plastering of the drawing-room fell upon the heads of their suitors; +so that the ardour of her husband-hunting was one of the jokes of the +State. Naturally, under such circumstances, the Witherspoons had to +be treated with consideration by the Castlemans. One might snub rich +Yankees, and chasten the suddenly-prosperous; but a family with an +ancient house in ruins, and with faded uniforms and battle-scarred +sabres in the cedar-chests in its attic--such a family can with +difficulty overdraw its social bank account. + +Dolly Witherspoon, the oldest daughter, had been Sylvia’s rival for +the palm as the most beautiful girl in Castleman County. And Sylvia +had triumphed, and Dolly had failed. So, in her secret heart she +hated Sylvia, and the mother hated her; and yet--such was the social +game--they had to invite Sylvia and her sister to their card-parties, +and Sylvia and her sister had to go. They had to go and be the most +striking figures there: Celeste, slim and pale from sorrow, virginal, in +clinging white chiffon; and Sylvia, regal and splendid, shimmering like +a mermaid in a gown of emerald green. + +The mermaid imagined that she noticed a slight agitation underneath +the cordiality of her hostess. The next person to greet her was Mrs. +Armistead; and Sylvia was sure that she did not imagine the suppressed +excitement in that lady’s manner. But even while she was speculating +and suspecting, she was led toward the drawing-room. It was late, her +hostess explained; the other guests were waiting, so if they did not +mind, the play would start at once. Celeste was to sit at that table +over there, with Mr. Witherspoon’s crippled brother, and old Mr. +Perkins, who was deaf; and Sylvia was to come this way--the table in the +corner. Sylvia moved toward it, and Dolly Witherspoon and her sister, +Emma, greeted her cordially, and then stepped out of the way to let her +to her seat; and Sylvia gave one glance--and found herself face to face +with Frank Shirley! + +22. Frank’s face was scarlet; and Sylvia had a moment of blind terror, +when she wanted to turn and fly. But there about her was the circle +of her enemies; a whole roomful of people, breathless with curiosity, +drinking in with eyes and ears every hint of distress that she might +give. And the next morning the whole town would, in imagination, attend +the scene! + +“Good-evening, Julia,” said Sylvia, to Mrs. Witherspoon’s youngest +daughter, the other lady at the table. “Good-evening, Malcolm”--to +Malcolm McCallum, an old “beau” of hers. And then, taking the seat which +Malcolm sprang to move out for her, “How do you do, Frank?” + +Frank’s eyes had fallen to his lap. “How do you do?” he murmured. The +sound of his voice, low and trembling, full of pain, was like the +sound of some old funeral bell to Sylvia; it sent the blood leaping in +torrents to her forehead. Oh, horrible, horrible! + +For a moment her eyes fell like his, and she shuddered, and was beaten. +But there was the roomful of people, watching; there was Mrs. Armistead, +there were the Witherspoon women gloating. She forced a tortured smile +to her lips, and asked, “What are we playing?” + +“Oh, didn’t you know that?” said Julia. “Progressive whist.” + +“Thank-you,” said Sylvia. “When do we begin?” And she looked +about--anywhere but at Frank Shirley, with his face grown so old in four +years. + +No one said anything, no one made a move. Was everybody in the room +conspiring to break her down? “I thought we were late,” she said, +desperately; and then, with another effort--“Shall I cut?” she asked, of +Julia. + +“If you please,” said the girl; but she did not make a motion to pass +the cards. Her manner seemed to say, You may cut all night, but it won’t +help you to rob me of this satisfaction. + +Sylvia made a still more determined effort. If the game was to be +postponed indefinitely, so that people might watch her and Frank--well, +she would have to find something to talk about. + +“It is a surprise to see you again, Frank Shirley!” she exclaimed. + +“Yes,” he said. His voice was a mumble, and he did not lift his eyes. + +“You have been in the West, I understand?” + +“Yes,” again; but still he did not lift his eyes. + +Sylvia managed to lift hers as far as his cravat; and she saw in it +an old piece of imitation jewelry which she had picked up once on the +street, and had handed to him in jest. He had worn it all these years! +He had not thrown it away--not even when she had thrown him away! + +Again came a surge of emotion; and out of the mist she looked about her +and saw the faces of tormenting demons, leering. “Well,” she demanded, +“are we going to play?” + +“We were waiting for you to cut,” said Julia, graciously; and Sylvia’s +fury helped to restore her self-posession. She cut the cards; and fate +was kind, sparing both her and Frank the task of dealing. + +But then a new difficulty arose. Julia dealt, and thirteen cards lay +in front of Frank Shirley; but he did not seem to know that he ought +to pick them up. And when the opposing lady called him to time, in +what seemed an unnecessarily penetrating voice, he found that he was +physically unable to get the cards from the table. And when with his +fumbling efforts he got them into a bunch, he could not straighten them +out--to say nothing of the labour of sorting them according to suit, +which all whist-players know to be an indispensable preliminary to the +game. When the opposing lady prodded him again, Frank’s face changed +from vivid scarlet to a dark and alarming purple. + +Miss Julia led the tray of clubs; and Frank, whose turn came next, +spilled three cards upon the table, and finally selected from them the +king of hearts to play--hearts being trumps. “But you have a club there, +Mr. Shirley,” said his opponent; something that was pardonable, inasmuch +as the nine of clubs lay face up where he had shoved it aside. + +“Oh--I beg pardon,” he stammered, and took back his king, and reached +into his hand and pulled out the six of clubs, and a diamond with it. + +It was evident that this could not go on. Sylvia might be equal to the +emergency, but Frank was not. He was too much of a human being and too +little of a social automaton. Something must be done. + +“Don’t they play whist out West, Mr. Shirley,” asked Julia, still +smiling benevolently. + +And Sylvia lowered her cards. “Surely, my dear, you must understand,” + she said, gently. “Mr. Shirley is too much embarrassed to think about +cards.” + +“Oh!” said the other, taken aback. (_L’audace, touljours l’audace!_ runs +the formula!) + +“You see,” continued Sylvia, “this is the first time that Frank has seen +me in more than three years. And when two people have been as much in +love as he and I were, they are naturally disturbed when they meet, and +cannot put their minds upon a game of cards.” + +Julia was speechless. And Sylvia let her glance wander casually about +the room. She saw her hostess and her daughters standing watching; and +near the wall at the other side of the room stood the head-devil, who +had planned this torment. + +“Mrs. Armistead,” Sylvia called, “aren’t you going to play to-night?” Of +course everybody in the room heard this; and after it, anyone could have +heard a pin drop. + +“I’m to keep score,” said Mrs. Armistead. + +“But it doesn’t need four to keep score,” objected Sylvia--and looked at +the three Witherspoon ladies. + +“Dolly and Emma are staying out,” said Mrs. Witherspoon. “Two of our +guests did not come.” + +“Well,” Sylvia exclaimed, “that just makes it right! Please let them +take the place of Mr. Shirley and myself. You see, we haven’t seen each +other for three or four years, and it’s hard for us to get interested +into a game of cards.” + +The whole room caught its breath at once; and here and there one heard +a little squeak of hysteria, cut short by some one who was not sure +whether it was a joke or a scandal. “Why--Sylvia!” stammered Mrs. +Witherspoon, completely staggered. + +Then Sylvia perceived that she was mistress of the scene. There came the +old rapture of conquest, that made her social genius. “We have so much +that we want to talk about,” she said, in her most winning voice. “Let +Dolly and Emma take our places, and we will sit on the sofa in the other +room and chat. You and Mrs. Armistead come and chaperone us. Won’t you +do that, please?” + +“Why--why----” gasped the bewildered lady. + +“I’m sure that you will both be interested to hear what we have to say +to each other; and you can tell everybody about it afterwards--and that +will be so much better than having the card-game delayed any more.” + +And with this side-swipe Sylvia arose. She stood and waited, to make +sure that her ex-fiancé was not too paralysed to follow. She led him out +through the tangle of card-tables; and in the door-way she stopped and +waited for Mrs. Armistead and Mrs. Witherspoon, and literally forced +these two ladies to come with her out of the room. + +23. Do you care to hear the details of the punishment which Sylvia +administered to the two conspirators? She took them to the sofa, and +made Frank draw up chairs for them, and when she had got comfortably +seated, she proceeded to talk to Frank just as gently and sincerely and +touchingly as she would have talked if there had been nobody present. +She asked about all that had befallen him, and when she discovered that +he was still not able to chat, she told him about herself, about her +baby, who was beautiful and dear, even if she was blind, and about all +the interesting things she had seen in Europe. When presently the old +ladies showed signs of growing restless, she put hand cuffs on them and +chained them to their chairs. + +“You see,” she said, “it would never do for Mr. Shirley and myself to +talk without a chaperon. You got me into this situation, you know, and +papa and mamma would never forgive you.” + +“You are mistaken, Sylvia!” cried Mrs. Witherspoon. “Mr. Shirley so +seldom goes out, and he had said he didn’t think he would come!” + +“I am willing to accept that explanation,” said Sylvia, politely, “but +you must help me out now that the embarrassing accident has happened.” + +Nor did it avail Mrs. Witherspoon to plead her guests and their score. +“You may be sure they don’t care about the score,” said Sylvia. “They’d +much prefer you stayed here, so that you can tell them how Frank and I +behaved.” + +And then, while Mrs. Witherspoon was getting herself together, Sylvia +turned upon the other conspirator. “We will now hold one of my eugenics +classes,” she said, and added, to Frank, “Mrs. Armistead told me that +you wanted to join my class.” + +“I don’t understand,” replied Frank, at a loss. + +“I will explain,” said Sylvia. “It is not a very refined joke they have +in the town. Mrs. Armistead meant to say that she credits a disgraceful +story that was circulated about you when we were engaged, and which my +people made use of to make me break our engagement. I am glad to have +a chance to tell you that I have investigated and satisfied myself +that the story was not true. I want to apologise to you for ever having +believed it; and I am sure that Mrs. Armistead may be glad of this +opportunity to apologise for having said that she believed it.” + +“I never said that I believed it!” cried Sallie Ann. + +“No, you didn’t, Mrs. Armistead--you would not be so crude as to say +it directly. You merely dropped a hint, which would lead everybody to +understand that you believed it.” + +Sylvia paused, just long enough to let the wicked lady suffer, but not +long enough to let her find a reply. “When you tell your friends about +this scene,” she continued, “please make clear that I did not drop hints +about anything, but said exactly what I meant--that the story is false, +so far as it implies any evil done by Mr. Shirley, and that I am deeply +ashamed of myself for having ever believed it. It is all in the past +now, of course--we are both of us married, and we shall probably never +meet again. But it will be a help to us in future to have had this +little talk--will it not, Frank?” + +There was a pause, while Sallie Ann Armistead recovered from her +dismay, and got back a little of her fighting power. Suddenly she rose: +“Virginia,” she said, firmly, “you are neglecting your guests.” + +“I don’t think you ought to go until Frank has got himself together,” + said Sylvia. “Frank, can you sort your cards now?” + +“Virginia!” commanded Sallie Ann, imperiously. “Come!” + +Mrs. Witherspoon rose, and so did Sylvia. “We can’t stay here alone,” + said she. “Frank, will you take Mrs. Witherspoon in?” And she gently +but firmly took Mrs. Armistead’s arm, and so they marched back into the +drawing-room. + +Dolly and Emma had progressed to separate tables, it developed, so that +the ordeal of Frank and Sylvia was over. Through the remainder of the +evening Sylvia chatted and played, and later partook of refreshments +with Malcolm McCallum, and mildly teased that inconsolable bachelor, +quite as in the old days. Now and then she stole a glance at Frank +Shirley, and saw that he was holding up his end; but he kept away from +her, and she never even caught his eye. + +At last the company broke up, and Sylvia thanked her hostess for a most +enjoyable evening. She stepped into the motor with Celeste, and sat with +compressed lips, answering in monosyllables her “little sister’s” flood +of excited questions--“Oh, Sylvia, didn’t you feel perfectly _terrible?_ +Oh, sister, I felt _thrills_ running up and down my back! Sister, what +_did_ you say to him? Sister, do you know old Mr. Perkins kept leaning +over me and asking what was happening; and how could I shout into his +deaf ear that everybody was stopping to hear what you were saying to +Frank Shirley?” + +At the end of the ride, there was Aunt Varina waiting up as usual--to +renew her own youth in the story of the evening, what this person had +worn and what that person had said. But Sylvia left her sister to tell +the story, and fled to her room and locked the door, and flung herself +upon the bed and gave way to a torrent of weeping. + +Half an hour later Celeste went up, and finding that the door between +her room and Sylvia’s was unlocked, opened it softly, and stood +listening. Finally she stole to her sister’s side and put her arm about +her. “Never mind, sister dear,” she whispered, solemnly, “I know how it +is! We women all have to suffer!” + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia’s Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5807-0.txt or 5807-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/0/5807/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/5807-0.zip b/5807-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb56cdc --- /dev/null +++ b/5807-0.zip diff --git a/5807-8.txt b/5807-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6da142 --- /dev/null +++ b/5807-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8456 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sylvia's Marriage + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5807] +This file was first posted on September 4, 2002 +Last updated: May 3, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE + +A NOVEL + + +By Upton Sinclair + +Author Of "The Jungle," Etc., Etc. + +London + + + + +SOME PRESS NOTICES + +"The importance of the theme cannot be doubted, and no one hitherto +ignorant of the ravages of the evil and therefore, by implication, in +need of being convinced can refuse general agreement with Mr. Sinclair +upon the question as he argues it. The character that matters most is +very much alive and most entertaining."--_The Times._ + +"Very severe and courageous. It would, indeed, be difficult to deny +or extenuate the appalling truth of Mr. Sinclair's indictment."-- _The +Nation._ + +"There is not a man nor a grown woman who would not be better for +reading Sylvia's Marriage."--_The Globe_ + +"Those who found Sylvia charming on her first appearance will find her +as beautiful and fascinating as ever."--_The Pall Mall_. + +"A novel that frankly is devoted to the illustration of the dangers +that society runs through the marriage of unsound men with unsuspecting +women. The time has gone by when any objection was likely to be taken to +a perfectly clean discussion of a nasty subject."--_T.P.'s Weekly._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +BOOK I SYLVIA AS WIFE + +BOOK II SYLVIA AS MOTHER + +BOOK III SYLVIA AS REBEL + + + + + + +SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE + + + + +BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE + + +1. I am telling the story of Sylvia Castleman. I should prefer to tell +it without mention of myself; but it was written in the book of fate +that I should be a decisive factor in her life, and so her story +pre-supposes mine. I imagine the impatience of a reader, who is promised +a heroine out of a romantic and picturesque "society" world, and +finds himself beginning with the autobiography of a farmer's wife on a +solitary homestead in Manitoba. But then I remember that Sylvia found +me interesting. Putting myself in her place, remembering her eager +questions and her exclamations, I am able to see myself as a heroine of +fiction. + +I was to Sylvia a new and miraculous thing, a self-made woman. I must +have been the first "common" person she had ever known intimately. She +had seen us afar off, and wondered vaguely about us, consoling herself +with the reflection that we probably did not know enough to be unhappy +over our sad lot in life. But here I was, actually a soul like herself; +and it happened that I knew more than she did, and of things she +desperately needed to know. So all the luxury, power and prestige that +had been given to Sylvia Castleman seemed as nothing beside Mary Abbott, +with her modern attitude and her common-sense. + +My girlhood was spent upon a farm in Iowa. My father had eight children, +and he drank. Sometimes he struck me; and so it came about that at +the age of seventeen I ran away with a boy of twenty who worked upon +a neighbour's farm. I wanted a home of my own, and Tom had some money +saved up. We journeyed to Manitoba, and took out a homestead, where I +spent the next twenty years of my life in a hand-to-hand struggle with +Nature which seemed simply incredible to Sylvia when I told her of it. + +The man I married turned out to be a petty tyrant. In the first five +years of our life he succeeded in killing the love I had for him; but +meantime I had borne him three children, and there was nothing to do but +make the best of my bargain. I became to outward view a beaten drudge; +yet it was the truth that never for an hour did I give up. When I lost +what would have been my fourth child, and the doctor told me that I +could never have another, I took this for my charter of freedom, and +made up my mind to my course; I would raise the children I had, and grow +up with them, and move out into life when they did. + +This was when I was working eighteen hours a day, more than half of +it by lamp-light, in the darkness of our Northern winters. When the +accident came, I had been doing the cooking for half a dozen men, who +were getting in the wheat upon which our future depended. I fell in my +tracks, and lost my child; yet I sat still and white while the men ate +supper, and afterwards I washed up the dishes. Such was my life in +those days; and I can see before me the face of horror with which Sylvia +listened to the story. But these things are common in the experience +of women who live upon pioneer farms, and toil as the slave-woman has +toiled since civilization began. + +We won out, and my husband made money. I centred my energies upon +getting school-time for my children; and because I had resolved that +they should not grow ahead of me, I sat up at night, and studied their +books. When the oldest boy was ready for high-school, we moved to a +town, where my husband had bought a granary business. By that time I +had become a physical wreck, with a list of ailments too painful to +describe. But I still had my craving for knowledge, and my illness was +my salvation, in a way--it got me a hired girl, and time to patronize +the free library. + +I had never had any sort of superstition or prejudice, and when I got +into the world of books, I began quickly to find my way. I travelled +into by-paths, of course; I got Christian Science badly, and New Thought +in a mild attack. I still have in my mind what the sober reader would +doubtless consider queer kinks; for instance, I still practice "mental +healing," in a form, and I don't always tell my secret thoughts about +Theosophy and Spiritualism. But almost at once I worked myself out of +the religion I had been taught, and away from my husband's politics, +and the drugs of my doctors. One of the first subjects I read about was +health; I came upon a book on fasting, and went away upon a visit and +tried it, and came back home a new woman, with a new life before me. + +In all of these matters my husband fought me at every step. He wished +to rule, not merely my body, but my mind, and it seemed as if every new +thing that I learned was an additional affront to him. I don't think +I was rendered disagreeable by my culture; my only obstinacy was in +maintaining the right of the children to do their own thinking. But +during this time my husband was making money, and filling his life with +that. He remained in his every idea the money-man, an active and bitter +leader of the forces of greed in our community; and when my studies took +me to the inevitable end, and I joined the local of the Socialist party +in our town, it was to him like a blow in the face. He never got over +it, and I think that if the children had not been on my side, he would +have claimed the Englishman's privilege of beating me with a stick +not thicker than his thumb. As it was, he retired into a sullen +hypochondria, which was so pitiful that in the end I came to regard him +as not responsible. + +I went to a college town with my three children, and when they were +graduated, having meantime made sure that I could never do anything but +torment my husband, I set about getting a divorce. I had helped to lay +the foundation of his fortune, cementing it with my blood, I might say, +and I could fairly have laid claim to half what he had brought from +the farm; but my horror of the parasitic woman had come to be such that +rather than even seem to be one, I gave up everything, and went out into +the world at the age of forty-five to earn my own living. My children +soon married, and I would not be a burden to them; so I came East for +a while, and settled down quite unexpectedly into a place as a +field-worker for a child-labour committee. + +You may think that a woman so situated would not have been apt to meet +Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, _ne_ Castleman, and to be chosen for her bosom +friend; but that would only be because you do not know the modern world. +We have managed to get upon the consciences of the rich, and they invite +us to attend their tea-parties and disturb their peace of mind. And +then, too, I had a peculiar hold upon Sylvia; when I met her I possessed +the key to the great mystery of her life. How that had come about is a +story in itself, the thing I have next to tell. + +2. It happened that my arrival in New York from the far West coincided +with Sylvia's from the far South; and that both fell at a time when +there were no wars or earthquakes or football games to compete for +the front page of the newspapers. So everybody was talking about the +prospective wedding. The fact that the Southern belle had caught +the biggest prize among the city's young millionaires was enough to +establish precedence with the city's subservient newspapers, which had +proceeded to robe the grave and punctilious figure of the bridegroom in +the garments of King Cophetua. The fact that the bride's father was +the richest man in his own section did not interfere with this--for how +could metropolitan editors be expected to have heard of the glories of +Castleman Hall, or to imagine that there existed a section of America so +self-absorbed that its local favourite would not feel herself exalted in +becoming Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver? + +What the editors knew about Castleman Hall was that they wired for +pictures, and a man was sent from the nearest city to "snap" +this unknown beauty; whereupon her father chased the presumptuous +photographer and smashed his camera with a cane. So, of course, when +Sylvia stepped out of the train in New York, there was a whole battery +of cameras awaiting her, and all the city beheld her image the next day. + +The beginning of my interest in this "belle" from far South was when I +picked up the paper at my breakfast table, and found her gazing at me, +with the wide-open, innocent eyes of a child; a child who had come from +some fairer, more gracious world, and brought the memory of it with her, +trailing her clouds of glory. She had stepped from the train into the +confusion of the roaring city, and she stood, startled and frightened, +yet, I thought, having no more real idea of its wickedness and horror +than a babe in arms. I read her soul in that heavenly countenance, and +sat looking at it, enraptured, dumb. There must have been thousands, +even in that metropolis of Mammon, who loved her from that picture, and +whispered a prayer for her happiness. + +I can hear her laugh as I write this. For she would have it that I was +only one more of her infatuated lovers, and that her clouds of glory +were purely stage illusion. She knew exactly what she was doing with +those wide-open, innocent eyes! Had not old Lady Dee, most cynical +of worldlings, taught her how to use them when she was a child in +pig-tails? To be sure she had been scared when she stepped off the +train, and strange men had shoved cameras under her nose. It was almost +as bad as being assassinated! But as to her heavenly soul--alas, for the +blindness of men, and of sentimental old women, who could believe in a +modern "society" girl! + +I had supposed that I was an emancipated woman when I came to New York. +But one who has renounced the world, the flesh and the devil, knowing +them only from pictures in magazines and Sunday supplements; such a +one may find that he has still some need of fasting and praying. +The particular temptation which overcame me was this picture of the +bride-to-be. I wanted to see her, and I went and stood for hours in a +crowd of curious women, and saw the wedding party enter the great Fifth +Avenue Church, and discovered that my Sylvia's hair was golden, and her +eyes a strange and wonderful red-brown. And this was the moment that +fate had chosen to throw Claire Lepage into my arms, and give me the key +to the future of Sylvia's life. + +3. I am uncertain how much I should tell about Claire Lepage. It is a +story which is popular in a certain sort of novel, but I have no wish +for that easy success. Towards Claire herself I had no trace of the +conventional attitude, whether of contempt or of curiosity. She was to +me the product of a social system, of the great New Nineveh which I was +investigating. And later on, when I knew her, she was a weak sister whom +I tried to help. + +It happened that I knew much more about such matters than the average +woman--owing to a tragedy in my life. When I was about twenty-five years +old, my brother-in-law had moved his family to our part of the world, +and one of his boys had become very dear to me. This boy later on +had got into trouble, and rather than tell anyone about it, had shot +himself. So my eyes had been opened to things that are usually hidden +from my sex; for the sake of my own sons, I had set out to study the +underground ways of the male creature. I developed the curious custom of +digging out every man I met, and making him lay bare his inmost life to +me; so you may understand that it was no ordinary pair of woman's arms +into which Claire Lepage was thrown. + +At first I attributed her vices to her environment, but soon I realized +that this was a mistake; the women of her world do not as a rule go to +pieces. Many of them I met were free and independent women, one or two +of them intellectual and worth knowing. For the most part such women +marry well, in the worldly sense, and live as contented lives as the +average lady who secures her life-contract at the outset. If you had met +Claire at an earlier period of her career, and if she had been concerned +to impress you, you might have thought her a charming hostess. She +had come of good family, and been educated in a convent--much better +educated than many society girls in America. She spoke English as well +as she did French, and she had read some poetry, and could use the +language of idealism whenever necessary. She had even a certain +religious streak, and could voice the most generous sentiments, and +really believe that she believed them. So it might have been some time +before you discovered the springs of her weakness. + +In the beginning I blamed van Tuiver; but in the end I concluded that +for most of her troubles she had herself to thank--or perhaps the +ancestors who had begotten her. She could talk more nobly and act more +abjectly than any other woman I have ever known. She wanted pleasant +sensations, and she expected life to furnish them continuously. +Instinctively she studied the psychology of the person she was dealing +with, and chose a reason which would impress that person. + +At this time, you understand, I knew nothing about Sylvia Castleman +or her fianc, except what the public knew. But now I got an inside +view--and what a view! I had read some reference to Douglas van Tuiver's +Harvard career: how he had met the peerless Southern beauty, and had +given up college and pursued her to her home. I had pictured the +wooing in the rosy lights of romance, with all the glamour of worldly +greatness. But now, suddenly, what a glimpse into the soul of the +princely lover! "He had a good scare, let me tell you," said Claire. "He +never knew what I was going to do from one minute to the next." + +"Did he see you in the crowd before the church door?" I inquired. + +"No," she replied, "but he thought of me, I can promise you." + +"He knew you were coming?" + +She answered, "I told him I had got an admission card, just to make sure +he'd keep me in mind!" + +4. I did not have to hear much more of Claire's story before making up +my mind that the wealthiest and most fashionable of New York's young +bachelors was a rather self-centred person. He had fallen desperately in +love with the peerless Southern beauty, and when she had refused to +have anything to do with him, he had come back to the other woman for +consolation, and had compelled her to pretend to sympathize with his +agonies of soul. And this when he knew that she loved him with the +intensity of a jealous nature. + +Claire had her own view of Sylvia Castleman, a view for which I +naturally made due reservations. Sylvia was a schemer, who had known +from the first what she wanted, and had played her part with masterly +skill. As for Claire, she had striven to match her moves, plotting +in the darkness against her, and fighting desperately with such weak +weapons as she possessed. It was characteristic that she did not +blame herself for her failure; it was the baseness of van Tuiver, his +inability to appreciate sincere devotion, his unworthiness of her love. +And this, just after she had been naively telling me of her efforts to +poison his mind against Sylvia while pretending to admire her! But I +made allowances for Claire at this moment--realizing that the situation +had been one to overstrain any woman's altruism. + +She had failed in her subtleties, and there had followed scenes of +bitter strife between the two. Sylvia, the cunning huntress, having +pretended to relent, van Tuiver had gone South to his wooing again, +while Claire had stayed at home and read a book about the poisoners +of the Italian renaissance. And then had come the announcement of the +engagement, after which the royal conqueror had come back in a panic, +and sent embassies of his male friends to plead with Claire, alternately +promising her wealth and threatening her with destitution, appealing +to her fear, her cupidity, and even to her love. To all of which I +listened, thinking of the wide-open, innocent eyes of the picture, and +shedding tears within my soul. So must the gods feel as they look down +upon the affairs of mortals, seeing how they destroy themselves by +ignorance and folly, seeing how they walk into the future as a blind man +into a yawning abyss. + +I gave, of course, due weight to the sneers of Claire. Perhaps the +innocent one really had set a trap--had picked van Tuiver out and +married him for his money. But even so, I could hope that she had not +known what she was doing. Surely it had never occurred to her that +through all the days of her triumph she would have to eat and sleep with +the shade of another woman at her side! + +Claire said to me, not once, but a dozen times, "He'll come back to me. +She'll never be able to make him happy." And so I pictured Sylvia upon +her honeymoon, followed by an invisible ghost whose voice she would +never hear, whose name she would never know. All that van Tuiver had +learned from Claire, the sensuality, the _ennin_, the contempt for +woman--it would rise to torment and terrify his bride, and turn her +life to bitterness. And then beyond this, deeps upon deeps, to which +my imagination did not go--and of which the Frenchwoman, with all +her freedom of tongue, gave me no more than a hint which I could not +comprehend. + +5. Claire Lepage at this time was desperately lonely and unhappy. Having +made the discovery that my arms were sturdy, used to doing a man's +work, she clung to them. She begged me to go home with her, to visit +her--finally to come and live with her. Until recently an elderly +companion, had posed as her aunt, and kept her respectable while she +was upon van Tuiver's yacht, and at his castle in Scotland. But this +companion had died, and now Claire had no one with whom to discuss her +soul-states. + +She occupied a beautiful house on the West Side, not far from Riverside +Drive; and in addition to the use of this she had an income of eight +thousand a year--which was not enough to make possible a chauffeur, nor +even to dress decently, but only enough to keep in debt upon. Such as +the income was, however, she was willing to share it with me. So +there opened before me a new profession--and a new insight into the +complications of parasitism. + +I went to see her frequently at first, partly because I was interested +in her and her associates, and partly because I really thought I could +help her. But I soon came to realize that influencing Claire was like +moulding water; it flowed back round your hands, even while you worked. +I would argue with her about the physiological effects of alcohol, and +when I had convinced her, she would promise caution; but soon I would +discover that my arguments had gone over her head. I was at this time +feeling my way towards my work in the East. I tried to interest her in +such things as social reform, but realized that they had no meaning for +her. She was living the life of the pleasure-seeking idlers of the great +metropolis, and every time I met her it seemed to me that her character +and her appearance had deteriorated. + +Meantime I picked up scraps of information concerning the van Tuivers. +There were occasional items in the papers, their yacht, the "Triton," +had reached the Azores; it had run into a tender in the harbour +of Gibraltar; Mr. and Mrs. van Tuiver had received the honour of +presentation at the Vatican; they were spending the season in London, +and had been presented at court; they had been royal guests at the +German army-manoeuvres. The million wage-slaves of the metropolis, +packed morning and night into the roaring subways and whirled to and +from their tasks, read items such as these and were thrilled by the +triumphs of their fellow-countrymen. + +At Claire's house I learned to be interested in "society" news. From +a weekly paper of gossip about the rich and great she would read +paragraphs, explaining subtle allusions and laying bare veiled scandals. +Some of the men she knew well, referring to them for my benefit as +Bertie and Reggie and Vivie and Algie. She also knew not a little about +the women of that super-world--information sometimes of an intimate +nature, which these ladies would have been startled to hear was going +the rounds. + +This insight I got into Claire's world I found useful, needless to say, +in my occasional forays as a soap-box orator of Socialism. I would go +from the super-heated luxury of her home to visit tenement-dens where +little children made paper-flowers twelve and fourteen hours a day for a +trifle over one cent an hour. I would spend the afternoon floating about +in the park in the automobile of one of her expensive friends, and then +take the subway and visit one of the settlements, to hear a discussion +of conditions which doomed a certain number of working-girls to be +burned alive every year in factory fires. + +As time went on, I became savage concerning such contrasts, and the +speeches I was making for the party began to attract attention. During +the summer, I recollect, I had begun to feel hostile even towards the +lovely image of Sylvia, which I had framed in my room. While she was +being presented at St. James's, I was studying the glass-factories +in South Jersey, where I found little boys of ten working in front of +glowing furnaces until they dropped of exhaustion and sometimes had +their eyes burned out. While she and her husband were guests of the +German Emperor, I was playing the part of a Polish working-woman, +penetrating the carefully guarded secrets of the sugar-trust's domain in +Brooklyn, where human lives are snuffed out almost every day in noxious +fumes. + +And then in the early fall Sylvia came home, her honeymoon over. +She came in one of the costly suites in the newest of the _de luxe_ +steamers; and the next morning I saw a new picture of her, and read +a few words her husband had condescended to say to a fellow traveller +about the courtesy of Europe to visiting Americans. Then for a couple +of months I heard no more of them. I was busy with my child-labour +work, and I doubt if a thought of Sylvia crossed my mind, until that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon at Mrs. Allison's when she came up to me +and took my hand in hers. + +6. Mrs. Roland Allison was one of the comfortable in body who had +begun to feel uncomfortable in mind. I had happened to meet her at +the settlement, and tell her what I had seen in the glass factories; +whereupon she made up her mind that everybody she knew must hear me +talk, and to that end gave a reception at her Madison Avenue home. + +I don't remember much of what I said, but if I may take the evidence of +Sylvia, who remembered everything, I spoke effectively. I told them, for +one thing, the story of little Angelo Patri. Little Angelo was of that +indeterminate Italian age where he helped to support a drunken father +without regard to the child-labour laws of the State of New Jersey. +His people were tenants upon a fruit-farm a couple of miles from the +glass-factory, and little Angelo walked to and from his work along the +railroad-track. It is a peculiarity of the glass-factory that it has to +eat its children both by day and by night; and after working six hours +before midnight and six more after midnight, little Angelo was tired. He +had no eye for the birds and flowers on a beautiful spring morning, but +as he was walking home, he dropped in his tracks and fell asleep. The +driver of the first morning train on that branch-line saw what he +took to be an old coat lying on the track ahead, and did not stop to +investigate. + +All this had been narrated to me by the child's mother, who had worked +as a packer of "beers," and who had loved little Angelo. As I repeated +her broken words about the little mangled body, I saw some of my +auditors wipe away a surreptitious tear. + +After I had stopped, several women came up to talk with me at the last, +when most of the company was departing, there came one more, who had +waited her turn. The first thing I saw was her loveliness, the thing +about her that dazzled and stunned people, and then came the strange +sense of familiarity. Where had I met this girl before? + +She said what everybody always says; she had been so much interested, +she had never dreamed that such conditions existed in the world. I, +applying the acid test, responded, "So many people have said that to me +that I have begun to believe it." + +"It is so in my case," she replied, quickly. "You see, I have lived all +my life in the South, and we have no such conditions there." + +"Are you sure?" I asked. + +"Our negroes at least can steal enough to eat," she said. + +I smiled. Then--since one has but a moment or two to get in one's work +in these social affairs, and so has to learn to thrust quickly: "You +have timber-workers in Louisiana, steel-workers in Alabama. You have +tobacco-factories, canning-factories, cotton-mills--have you been to any +of them to see how the people live?" + +All this I said automatically, it being the routine of the agitator. +But meantime in my mind was an excitement, spreading like a flame. The +loveliness of this young girl; the eagerness, the intensity of feeling +written upon her countenance; and above all, the strange sense of +familiarity! Surely, if I had met her before, I should never have +forgotten her; surely it could not be--not possibly-- + +My hostess came, and ended my bewilderment. "You ought to get Mrs. van +Tuiver on your child-labour committee," she said. + +A kind of panic seized me. I wanted to say, "Oh, it is Sylvia +Castleman!" But then, how could I explain? I couldn't say, "I have your +picture in my room, cut out of a newspaper." Still less could I say, "I +know a friend of your husband." + +Fortunately Sylvia did not heed my excitement. (She had learned by this +time to pretend not to notice.) "Please don't misunderstand me," she +was saying. "I really _don't_ know about these things. And I would do +something to help if I could." As she said this she looked with the +red-brown eyes straight into mine--a gaze so clear and frank and honest, +it was as if an angel had come suddenly to earth, and learned of the +horrible tangle into which we mortals have got our affairs. + +"Be careful what you're saying," put in our hostess, with a laugh. +"You're in dangerous hands." + +But Sylvia would not be warned. "I want to know more about it," she +said. "You must tell me what I can do." + +"Take her at her word," said Mrs. Allison, to me. "Strike while the iron +is hot!" I detected a note of triumph in her voice; if she could say +that she had got Mrs. van Tuiver to take up child-labour--that indeed +would be a feather to wear! + +"I will tell you all I can," I said. "That's my work in the world." + +"Take Mrs. Abbott away with you," said the energetic hostess, to Sylvia; +and before I quite understood what was happening, I had received and +accepted an invitation to drive in the park with Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver. In her role of _dea ex machina_ the hostess extricated me from +the other guests, and soon I was established in a big new motor, gliding +up Madison Avenue as swiftly and silently as a cloud-shadow over the +fields. As I write the words there lies upon my table a Socialist paper +with one of Will Dyson's vivid cartoons, representing two ladies of the +great world at a reception. Says the first, "These social movements are +becoming _quite_ worth while!" "Yes, indeed," says the other. "One meets +such good society!" + +7. Sylvia's part in this adventure was a nobler one than mine, Seated as +I was in a regal motor-car, and in company with one favoured of all +the gods in the world, I must have had an intense conviction of my own +saintliness not to distrust my excitement. But Sylvia, for her part, had +nothing to get from me but pain. I talked of the factory-fires and +the horrors of the sugar-refineries, and I saw shadow after shadow of +suffering cross her face. You may say it was cruel of me to tear the +veil from those lovely eyes, but in such a matter I felt myself the +angel of the Lord and His vengeance. + +"I didn't know about these things!" she cried again. And I found it was +true. It would have been hard for me to imagine anyone so ignorant +of the realities of modern life. The men and women she had met she +understood quite miraculously, but they were only two kinds, the "best +people" and their negro servants. There had been a whole regiment of +relatives on guard to keep her from knowing anybody else, or anything +else, and if by chance a dangerous fact broke into the family stockade, +they had formulas ready with which to kill it. + +"But now," Sylvia went on, "I've got some money, and I can help, so +I dare not be ignorant any longer. You must show me the way, and my +husband too. I'm sure he doesn't know what can be done." + +I said that I would do anything in my power. Her help would be +invaluable, not merely because of the money she might give, but because +of the influence of her name; the attention she could draw to any +cause she chose. I explained to her the aims and the methods of our +child-labour committee. We lobbied to get new legislation; we watched +officials to compel them to enforce the laws already existing; above +all, we worked for publicity, to make people realise what it meant that +the new generation was growing up without education, and stunted by +premature toil. And that was where she could help us most--if she would +go and see the conditions with her own eyes, and then appear before the +legislative committee this winter, in favour of our new bill! + +She turned her startled eyes upon me at this. Her ideas of doing good +in the world were the old-fashioned ones of visiting and almsgiving; +she had no more conception of modern remedies than she had of modern +diseases. "Oh, I couldn't possibly make a speech!" she exclaimed. + +"Why not?" I asked. + +"I never thought of such a thing. I don't know enough." + +"But you can learn." + +"I know, but that kind of work ought to be done by men." + +"We've given men a chance, and they have made the evils. Whose business +is it to protect the children if not the women's?" + +She hesitated a moment, and then said: "I suppose you'll laugh at me." + +"No, no," I promised; then as I looked at her I guessed. "Are you going +to tell me that woman's place is the home?" + +"That is what we think in Castleman County," she said, smiling in spite +of herself. + +"The children have got out of the home," I replied. "If they are ever to +get back, we women must go and fetch them." + +Suddenly she laughed--that merry laugh that was the April sunshine of +my life for many years. "Somebody made a Suffrage speech in our State +a couple of years ago, and I wish you could have seen the horror of my +people! My Aunt Nannie--she's Bishop Chilton's wife--thought it was the +most dreadful thing that had happened since Jefferson Davis was put in +irons. She talked about it for days, and at last she went upstairs and +shut herself in the attic. The younger children came home from school, +and wanted to know where mamma was. Nobody knew. Bye and bye, the cook +came. 'Marse Basil, what we gwine have fo' dinner? I done been up to +Mis' Nannie, an' she say g'way an' not pester her--she busy.' Company +came, and there was dreadful confusion--nobody knew what to do about +anything--and still Aunt Nannie was locked in! At last came dinner-time, +and everybody else came. At last up went the butler, and came down with +the message that they were to eat whatever they had, and take care of +the company somehow, and go to prayer-meeting, and let her alone--she +was writing a letter to the Castleman County _Register_ on the subject +of 'The Duty of Woman as a Homemaker'!" + +8. This was the beginning of my introduction to Castleman County. It was +a long time before I went there, but I learned to know its inhabitants +from Sylvia's stories of them. Funny stories, tragic stories, wild and +incredible stories out of a half-barbaric age! She would tell them and +we would laugh together; but then a wistful look would come into her +eyes, and a silence would fall. So very soon I made the discovery that +my Sylvia was homesick. In all the years that I knew her she never +ceased to speak of Castleman Hall as "home". All her standards came from +there, her new ideas were referred there. + +We talked of Suffrage for a while, and I spoke about the lives of women +on lonely farms--how they give their youth and health to their husband's +struggle, yet have no money partnership which they can enforce in +case of necessity. "But surely," cried Sylvia, "you don't want to make +divorce more easy!" + +"I want to make the conditions of it fair to women," I said. + +"But then more women will get it! And there are so many divorced women +now! Papa says that divorce is a greater menace than Socialism!" + +She spoke of Suffrage in England, where women were just beginning to +make public disturbances. Surely I did not approve of their leaving +their homes for such purposes as that! As tactfully as I could, I +suggested that conditions in England were peculiar. There was, for +example, the quaint old law which permitted a husband to beat his wife +subject to certain restrictions. Would an American woman submit to such +a law? There was the law which made it impossible for a woman to divorce +her husband for infidelity, unless accompanied by desertion or cruelty. +Surely not even her father would consider that a decent arrangement! I +mentioned a recent decision of the highest court in the land, that a man +who brought his mistress to live in his home, and compelled his wife +to wait upon her, was not committing cruelty within the meaning of the +English law. I heard Sylvia's exclamation of horror, and met her stare +of incredulity; and then suddenly I thought of Claire, and a little +chill ran over me. It was a difficult hour, in more ways than one, that +of my first talk with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + +I soon made the discovery that, childish as her ignorance was, there was +no prejudice in it. If you brought her a fact, she did not say that it +was too terrible to be true, or that the Bible said otherwise, or that +it was indecent to know about it. Nor, when you met her next, did you +discover that she had forgotten it. On the contrary, you discovered that +she had followed it to its remote consequences, and was ready with a +score of questions as to these. I remember saying to myself, that first +automobile ride: "If this girl goes on thinking, she will get into +trouble! She will have to stop, for the sake of others!" + +"You must meet my husband some time," she said; and added, "I'll have to +see my engagement-book. I have so much to do, I never know when I have a +moment free." + +"You must find it interesting," I ventured. + +"I did, for a while; but I've begun to get tired of so much going about. +For the most part I meet the same people, and I've found out what they +have to say." + +I laughed. "You have caught the society complaint already--_ennui_!" + +"I had it years ago, at home. It's true I never would have gone out at +all if it hadn't been for the sake of my family. That's why I envy a +woman like you--" + +I could not help laughing. It was too funny, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver +envying me! + +"What's the matter?" she asked. + +"Just the irony of life. Do you know, I cut you out of the newspaper, +and put you in a little frame on my bureau. I thought, here is the +loveliest face I've ever seen, and here is the most-to-be-envied of +women." + +She smiled, but quickly became serious. "I learned very early in life +that I was beautiful; and I suppose if I were suddenly to cease being +beautiful, I'd miss it; yet I often think it's a nuisance. It makes one +dependent on externals. Most of the beautiful women I've known make a +sort of profession of it--they live to shine and be looked at. + +"And you don't enjoy that?" I asked. + +"It restricts one's life. Men expect it of you, they resent your having +any other interest." + +"So," I responded, gravely, "with all your beauty and wealth, you aren't +perfectly happy?" + +"Oh, yes!" she cried--not having meant to confess so much. "I told +myself I would be happy, because I would be able to do so much good in +the world. There must be some way to do good with money! But now I'm +not sure; there seem to be so many things in the way. Just when you have +your mind made up that you have a way to help, someone comes and points +out to you that you may be really doing harm." + +She hesitated again, and I said, "That means you have been looking into +the matter of charity." + +She gave me a bright glance. "How you understand things!" she exclaimed. + +"It is possible," I replied, "to know modern society so well that when +you meet certain causes you know what results to look for." + +"I wish you'd explain to me why charity doesn't do any good!" + +"It would mean a lecture on the competitive wage-system," I laughed-- +"too serious a matter for a drive!" + +This may have seemed shirking on my part. But here I was, wrapped in +luxurious furs, rolling gloriously through the park at twilight on a +brilliant autumn evening; and the confiscation of property seems so much +more startling a proposition when you are in immediate contact with +it! This principle, which explains the "opportunism" of Socialist +cabinet-ministers and Labour M.P.s may be used to account for the sudden +resolve which I had taken, that for this afternoon at least Mrs. Douglas +van Tuiver should not discover that I was either a divorced woman, or a +soap-box orator of the revolution. + +9. Sylvia, in that first conversation, told me much about herself that +she did not know she was telling. I became fairly certain, for instance, +that she had not married Mr. Douglas van Tuiver for love. The young girl +who has so married does not suffer from ennui in the first year, nor +does she find her happiness depending upon her ability to solve the +problem of charity in connection with her husband's wealth. + +She would have ridden and talked longer, she said, but for a dinner +engagement. She asked me to call on her, and I promised to come some +morning, as soon as she set a day. When the car drew up before the +door of her home, I thought of my first ride about the city in the +"rubber-neck wagon," and how I had stared when the lecturer pointed out +this mansion. We, the passengers, had thrilled as one soul, imagining +the wonderful life which must go on behind those massive portals, the +treasures outshining the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, which required +those thick, bronze bars for their protection. And here was the mistress +of all the splendour, inviting me to come and see it from within! + +She wanted to send me home in the car, but I would not have that, on +account of the push-cart men and the babies in my street; I got out +and walked--my heart beating fast, my blood leaping with exultation. I +reached home, and there on the bureau was the picture--but behold, how +changed! It was become a miracle of the art of colour-photography; its +hair was golden, its eyes a wonderful red-brown, its cheeks aglow with +the radiance of youth! And yet more amazing, the picture spoke! It spoke +with the most delicious of Southern drawls--referring to the "repo't" of +my child-labour committee, shivering at the cold and bidding me pull the +"fu-uzz" up round me. And when I told funny stories about the Italians +and the Hebrews of my tenement-neighbourhood, it broke into silvery +laughter, and cried: "Oh, de-ah me! How que-ah!" Little had I dreamed, +when I left that picture in the morning, what a miracle was to be +wrought upon it. + +I knew, of course, what was the matter with me; the symptoms were +unmistakable. After having made up my mind that I was an old woman, and +that there was nothing more in life for me save labour--here the little +archer had come, and with the sharpest of his golden arrows, had shot +me through. I had all the thrills, the raptures and delicious agonies of +first love; I lived no longer in myself, but in the thought of another +person. Twenty times a day I looked at my picture, and cried aloud: "Oh, +beautiful, beautiful!" + +I do not know how much of her I have been able to give. I have told of +our first talk--but words are so cold and dead! I stop and ask: What +there is, in all nature, that has given me the same feeling? I remember +how I watched the dragon-fly emerging from its chrysalis. It is soft and +green and tender; it clings to a branch and dries its wings in the sun, +and when the miracle is completed, there for a brief space it poises, +shimmering with a thousand hues, quivering with its new-born ecstasy. +And just so was Sylvia; a creature from some other world than ours, +as yet unsoiled by the dust and heat of reality. It came to me with +a positive shock, as a terrifying thing, that there should be in this +world of strife and wickedness any young thing that took life with +such intensity, that was so palpitating with eagerness, with hope, with +sympathy. Such was the impression that one got of her, even when her +words most denied it. She might be saying world-weary and cynical +things, out of the maxims of Lady Dee; but there was still the +eagerness, the sympathy, surging beneath and lifting her words. + +The crown of her loveliness was her unconsciousness of self. Even though +she might be talking of herself, frankly admitting her beauty, she was +really thinking of other people, how she could get to them to help them. +This I must emphasize, because, apart from jesting, I would not have it +thought that I had fallen under the spell of a beautiful countenance, +combined with a motor-car and a patrician name. There were things about +Sylvia that were aristocratic, that could be nothing else; but she could +be her same lovely self in a cottage--as I shall prove to you before I +finish with the story of her life. + +I was in love. At that time I was teaching myself German, and I sat one +day puzzling out two lines of Goethe: + +"Oden and Thor, these two thou knowest; Freya, the heavenly, knowest +thou not." + +And I remember how I cried aloud in sudden delight: _"I know her!"_ For +a long time that was one of my pet names--"Freya dis Himmlische!" I only +heard of one other that I preferred--when in course of time she told me +about Frank Shirley, and how she had loved him, and how their hopes had +been wrecked. He had called her "Lady Sunshine"; he had been wont to +call it over and over in his happiness, and as Sylvia repeated it to +me--"Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!" I could imagine that I caught an +echo of the very tones of Frank Shirley's voice. + +10. For several days I waited upon the postman, and when the summons +came I dodged a committee-meeting, and ascended the marble stairs with +trepidation, and underwent the doubting scrutiny of an English lackey, +sufficiently grave in deportment and habiliments to have waited upon a +bishop in his own land. I have a vague memory of an entrance-hall with +panelled paintings and a double-staircase with a snow-white carpet, +about which I had read in the newspapers that it was woven in one piece, +and had cost an incredible sum. One did not have to profane it with his +feet, as there was an elevator provided. + +I was shown to Sylvia's morning-room, which had been "done" in pink and +white and gold by some decorator who had known her colours. It was large +enough to have held half-a-dozen of my own quarters, and the sun was +allowed to flood it. Through a door at one side came Sylvia, holding out +her hands to me. + +She was really glad to see me! She began to apologize at once for the +time she had taken to write. It was because she had so much to do. She +had married into a world that took itself seriously: the "idle rich," +who worked like slaves. "You know," she said, while we sat on a pink +satin couch, and a footman brought us coffee: "you read that Mrs. +So-and-so is a 'social queen,' and you think it's a newspaper phrase, +but it isn't; she really feels that she's a queen, and other people +feel it, and she goes through her ceremonies as solemnly as the Lord's +anointed." + +She went on to tell me some of her adventures. She had a keen sense of +fun, and was evidently suffering for an outlet for it. She saw through +the follies and pretences of people in a flash, but they were all such +august and important people that, out of regard for her husband, she +dared not let them suspect her clairvoyant power. + +She referred to her experiences abroad. She had not liked Europe--being +quite frankly a provincial person. To Castleman County a foreigner was +a strange, dark person who mixed up his consonants, and was under +suspicion of being a fiddler or an opera-singer. The people she had met +under her husband's charge had been socially indubitable, but still, +they were foreigners, and Sylvia could never really be sure what they +meant. + +There was, for instance, the young son of a German steel-king, a person +of amazing savoir faire, who had made bold to write books and exhibit +pictures, and had travelled so widely that he had even heard of +Castleman County. He had taken Sylvia to show her the sights of Berlin, +and had rolled her down the "Sieges Alle," making outrageous fun of his +Kaiser's taste in art, and coming at last to a great marble column, with +a female figure representing Victory upon the top. "You will observe," +said the cultured young plutocrat, "that the Grecian lady stands a +hundred meters in the air, and has no stairway. There is a popular +saying about her which is delightful--that she is the only chaste woman +in Berlin!" + +I had been through the culture-seeking stage, and knew my Henry James; +so I could read between the lines of Sylvia's experiences. I figured +her as a person walking on volcanic ground, not knowing her peril, but +vaguely disquieted by a smell of sulphur in the air. And once in a while +a crack would open in the ground! There was the Duke of Something in +Rome, for example, a melancholy young man, with whom she had coquetted, +as she did, in her merry fashion, with every man she met. Being married, +she had taken it for granted that she might be as winsome as she chose; +but the young Italian had misunderstood the game, and had whispered +words of serious import, which had so horrified Sylvia that she flew +to her husband and told him the story--begging him incidentally not to +horse-whip the fellow. In reply it had to be explained to her she had +laid herself liable to the misadventure. The ladies of the Italian +aristocracy were severe and formal, and Sylvia had no right to expect an +ardent young duke to understand her native wildness. + +11. Something of that sort was always happening--something in each +country to bewilder her afresh, and to make it necessary for her husband +to remind her of the proprieties. In France, a cousin of van Tuiver's +had married a marquis, and they had visited the chateau. The family was +Catholic, of the very oldest and strictest, and the brother-in-law, a +prelate of high degree, had invited the guests to be shown through his +cathedral. "Imagine my bewilderment!" said Sylvia. "I thought I was +going to meet a church dignitary, grave and reverent; but here was a +wit, a man of the world. Such speeches you never heard! I was ravished +by the grandeur of the building, and I said: 'If I had seen this, I +would have come to you to be married.' 'Madame is an American,' +he replied. 'Come the next time!' When I objected that I was not a +Catholic, he said: 'Your beauty is its own religion!' When I protested +that he would be doing me too great an honour, 'Madame,' said he, 'the +_honneur_ would be all to the church!' And because I was shocked at all +this, I was considered to be a provincial person!" + +Then they had come to London, a dismal, damp city where you "never saw +the sun, and when you did see it it looked like a poached egg"; where +you had to learn to eat fish with the help of a knife, and where you +might speak of bitches, but must never on any account speak of your +stomach. They went for a week-end to "Hazelhurst," the home of the +Dowager Duchess of Danbury, whose son van Tuiver, had entertained in +America, and who, in the son's absence, claimed the right to repay the +debt. The old lady sat at table with two fat poodle dogs in infants' +chairs, one on each side of her, feeding out of golden trays. There +was a visiting curate, a frightened little man at the other side of one +poodle; in an effort to be at ease he offered the wheezing creature a +bit of bread. "Don't feed my dogs!" snapped the old lady. "I don't allow +anybody to feed my dogs!" + +And then there was the Honourable Reginald Annersley, the youngest son +of the family, home from Eton on vacation. The Honourable Reginald was +twelve years of age, undersized and ill-nourished. ("They feed them +badly," his mother had explained, "an' the teachin's no good either, +but it's a school for gentlemen.") "Honestly," said Sylvia, "he was the +queerest little mannikin--like the tiny waiter's assistants you see in +hotels on the Continent. He wore his Eton suit, you understand--grown-up +evening clothes minus the coat-tails, and a top hat. He sat at tea and +chatted with the mincing graces of a cotillion-leader; you expected to +find some of his hair gone when he took off his hat! He spoke of his +brother, the duke, who had gone off shooting seals somewhere. 'The jolly +rotter has nothing to do but spend his money; but we younger sons have +to work like dogs when we grow up!' I asked what he'd do, and he said 'I +suppose there's nothin' but the church. It's a beastly bore, but you do +get a livin' out of it.' + +"That was too much for me," said Sylvia. "I proceeded to tell the poor, +blas infant about my childhood; how my sister Celeste and I had caught +half-tamed horses and galloped about the pasture on them, when we were +so small that our little fat legs stuck out horizontally; how we had +given ourselves convulsions in the green apple orchard, and had to be +spanked every day before we had our hair combed. I told how we heard +a war-story about a 'train of gunpowder,' and proceeded to lay such a +train about the attic of Castleman Hall, and set fire to it. I might +have spent the afternoon teaching the future churchman how to be a boy, +if I hadn't suddenly caught a glimpse of my husband's face!" + +12. I did not hear these stories all at once. I have put them together +here because they make a little picture of her honeymoon, and also +because they show how, without meaning it, she was giving me an account +of her husband. + +There had been even fewer adventures in the life of young Douglas van +Tuiver than in the life of the Honourable Reginald Annersley. When one +heard the details of the up-bringing of this "millionaire baby," one was +able to forgive him for being self-centred. He had grown into a man who +lived to fulfil his social duties, and he had taken to wife a girl who +was reckless, high-spirited, with a streak of almost savage pride in +her. + +Sylvia's was the true aristocratic attitude towards the rest of the +world. It could never have occurred to her to imagine that anywhere +upon the whole earth there were people superior to the Castlemans of +Castleman County. If you had been ignorant enough to suggest such an +idea, you would have seen her eyes flash and her nostrils quiver; you +would have been enveloped in a net of bewilderment and transfixed with +a trident of mockery and scorn. That was what she had done in her +husband-hunt. The trouble was that van Tuiver was not clever enough +to realise this, and to trust her prowess against other beasts in the +social jungle. + +Strange to me were such inside glimpses into the life of these two +favourites of the gods! I never grew weary of speculating about them, +and the mystery of their alliance. How had Sylvia come to make this +marriage? She was not happy with him; keen psychologist that she was, +she must have foreseen that she would not be happy with him. Had she +deliberately sacrificed herself, because of the good she imagined she +could do to her family? + +I was beginning to believe this. Irritated as she was by the solemn +snobberies of van Tuiver's world, it was none the less true that she +believed in money; she believed in it with a faith which appalled me as +I came to realise it. Everybody had to have money; the social graces, +the aristocratic virtues were impossible without it. The rich needed +it--even the poor needed it! Could it be that the proud Castlemans of +Castleman County had needed it also? + +If that guess at her inmost soul was correct, then what a drama was her +meeting with me! A person who despised money, who had proven it by grim +deeds--and this a person of her own money-worshipping sex! What was the +meaning of this phenomenon--this new religion that was challenging the +priesthood of Mammon? So some Roman consul's daughter might have sat in +her father's palace, and questioned in wonder a Christian slave woman, +destined ere long to face the lions in the arena. + +The exactness of this simile was not altered by the fact that in this +case the slave woman was an agnostic, while the patrician girl had +been brought up in the creed of Christ. Sylvia had long since begun to +question the formulas of a church whose very pews were rented, and whose +existence, she declared, had to be justified by charity to the poor. As +we sat and talked, she knew this one thing quite definitely--that I had +a religion, and she had none. That was the reason for the excitement +which possessed her. + +Nor was that fact ever out of my own mind for a moment. As she sat there +in her sun-flooded morning-room, clad in an exquisite embroidered robe +of pink Japanese silk, she was such a lovely thing that I was ready to +cry out for joy of her; and yet there was something within me, grim and +relentless, that sat on guard, warning me that she was of a different +faith from mine, and that between those two faiths there could be no +compromise. Some day she must find out what I thought of her husband's +wealth, and the work it was doing in the world! Some day she must hear +my real opinion of the religion of motor-cars and hand-woven carpets! + +13. Nor was the day so very far off. She sat opposite me, leaning +forward in her eagerness, declaring: "You must help to educate me. I +shall never rest until I'm of some real use in the world." + +"What have you thought of doing?" I inquired. + +"I don't know yet. My husband has an aunt who's interested in a +day-nursery for the children of working-women. I thought I might help +this, but my husband says it does no good whatever--it only makes +paupers of the poor. Do you think so?" + +"I think more than that," I replied. "It sets women free to compete with +men, and beat down men's wages." + +"Oh, what a puzzle!" she exclaimed, and then: "Is there any way of +helping the poor that wouldn't be open to the same objection?" + +That brought us once more to the subject I had put aside at our last +meeting. She had not forgotten it, and asked again for an explanation. +What did I mean by the competitive wage system? + +My purpose in this writing is to tell the story of Sylvia Castleman's +life, to show, not merely what she was, but what she became. I have to +make real to you a process of growth in her soul, and at this moment the +important event is her discovery of the class-struggle and her reaction +to it. You may say, perhaps, that you are not interested in the +class-struggle, but you cannot alter the fact that you live in an age +when millions of people are having the course of their lives changed by +the discovery of it. Here, for instance, is a girl who has been taught +to keep her promises, and has promised to love, honour and obey a man; +she is to find the task more difficult, because she comes to understand +the competitive wage-system while he does not understand it and does not +wish to. If that seems to you strange material out of which to make a +domestic drama, I can only tell you that you have missed some of the +vital facts of your own time. + +I gave her a little lesson in elementary economics. I showed her how, +when a capitalist needed labour, he bought it in the open market, like +any other commodity. He did not think about the human side of it, he +paid the market-price, which came to be what the labourer had to have +in order to live. No labourer could get more, because others would take +less. + +"If that be true," I continued, "one of the things that follows is the +futility of charity. Whatever you do for the wage-worker on a general +scale comes sooner or later out of his wages. If you take care of his +children all day or part of the day, he can work for less; if he doesn't +discover that someone else does, and underbids him and takes his place. +If you feed his children at school, if you bury him free, if you insure +his life, or even give him a dinner on Christmas Day, you simply enable +his landlord to charge him more, or his employer to pay him less." + +Sylvia sat for a while in thought, and then asked: "What can be done +about such a fact?" + +"The first thing to be done is to make sure that you understand it. +Nine-tenths of the people who concern themselves with social questions +don't, and so they waste their time in futilities. For instance, I read +the other day an article by a benevolent old gentleman who believed that +the social problem could be solved by teaching the poor to chew their +food better, so that they would eat less. You may laugh at that, but +it's not a bit more absurd than the idea of our men of affairs, that the +thing to do is to increase the efficiency of the workers, and so produce +more goods." + +"You mean the working-man doesn't get more, even when he produces more?" + +"Take the case of the glass factories. Men used to get eight dollars a +day there, but someone invented a machine that did the work of a dozen +men, and that machine is run by a boy for fifty cents a day." + +A little pucker of thought came between her eyes. "Might there not be a +law forbidding the employer to reduce wages?" + +"A minimum wage law. But that would raise the cost of the product, and +drive the trade to another state." + +She suggested a national law, and when I pointed out that the trade +would go to other countries, she fell back on the tariff. I felt like an +embryologist--watching the individual repeating the history of the race! + +"Protection and prosperity!" I said, with a smile. "Don't you see the +increase in the cost of living? The working-man gets more money in his +pay envelope, but he can't buy more with it because prices go up. And +even supposing you could pass a minimum wage law, and stop competition +in wages, you'd only change it to competition in efficiency--you'd throw +the old and the feeble and the untrained into pauperism." + +"You make the world seem a hard place to live in," protested Sylvia. + +"I'm simply telling you the elementary facts of business. You can forbid +the employer to pay less than a standard wage, but you can't compel him +to employ people who aren't able to earn that wage. The business-man +doesn't employ for fun, he does it for the profit there is in it." + +"If that is true," said Sylvia, quickly, "then the way of employing +people is cruel." + +"But what other way could you have?" + +She considered. "They could be employed so that no one would make a +profit. Then surely they could be paid enough to live decently!" + +"But whose interest would it be to employ them without profit?" + +"The State should do it, if no one else will." + +I had been playing a game with Sylvia, as no doubt you have perceived. +"Surely," I said, "you wouldn't approve anything like that!" + +"But why not?" + +"Because, it would be Socialism." + +She looked at me startled. "Is that Socialism?" + +"Of course it is. It's the essence of Socialism." + +"But then--what's the harm in it?" + +I laughed. "I thought you said that Socialism was a menace, like +divorce!" + +I had my moment of triumph, but then I discovered how fond was the +person who imagined that he could play with Sylvia. "I suspect you are +something of a Socialist yourself," she remarked. + +She told me a long time afterwards what had been her emotions during +these early talks. It was the first time in her life that she had ever +listened to ideas that were hostile to her order, and she did so with +tremblings and hesitations, combating at every step an impulse to flee +to the shelter of conventionality. She was more shocked by my last +revelation than she let me suspect. It counted for little that I +had succeeded in trapping her in proposing for herself the economic +programme of Socialism, for what terrifies her class is not our economic +programme, it is our threat of slave-rebellion. I had been brought up +in a part of the world where democracy is a tradition, a word to conjure +with, and I supposed that this would be the case with any American--that +I would only have to prove that Socialism was democracy applied to +industry. How could I have imagined the kind of "democracy" which had +been taught to Sylvia by her Uncle Mandeville, the politician of the +family, who believed that America was soon to have a king, to keep the +"foreign riff-raff" in its place! + +14. At this time I was living in a three-roomed apartment in one of the +new "model tenements" on the East Side. I had a saying about the place, +that it was "built for the proletariat and occupied by cranks." What an +example for Sylvia of the futility of charity--the effort on the part +of benevolent capitalists to civilise the poor by putting bath-tubs in +their homes, and the discovery that the graceless creatures were using +them for the storage of coals! + +Having heard these strange stories, Sylvia was anxious to visit me, and +I was, of course, glad to invite her. I purchased a fancy brand of tea, +and some implements for the serving of it, and she came, and went into +raptures over my three rooms and bath, no one of which would have made +more than a closet in her own apartments. I suspected that this was her +Southern _noblesse oblige_, but I knew also that in my living room +there were some rows of books, which would have meant more to Sylvia van +Tuiver just then than the contents of several clothes-closets. + +I was pleased to discover that my efforts had not been wasted. She +had been thinking, and she had even found time, in the midst of her +distractions, to read part of a book. In the course of our talks I had +mentioned Veblen, and she had been reading snatches of his work on the +Leisure Class, and I was surprised, and not a little amused, to observe +her reaction to it. + +When I talked about wages and hours of labour, I was dealing with things +that were remote from her, and difficult to make real; but Veblen's +theme, the idle rich, and the arts and graces whereby they demonstrate +their power, was the stuff of which her life was made. The subtleties of +social ostentation, the minute distinctions between the newly-rich +and the anciently-rich, the solemn certainties of the latter and the +quivering anxieties of the former--all those were things which Sylvia +knew as a bird knows the way of the wind. To see the details of them +analysed in learned, scientific fashion, explained with great mouthfuls +of words which one had to look up in the dictionary--that was surely +a new discovery in the book-world! "Conspicuous leisure!" "Vicarious +consumption of goods!" "Oh, de-ah me, how que-ah!" exclaimed Sylvia. + +And what a flood of anecdotes it let loose! A flood that bore us +straight back to Castleman Hall, and to all the scenes of her young +ladyhood! If only Lady Dee could have revised this book of Veblen's, how +many points she could have given to him! No details had been too minute +for the technique of Sylvia's great-aunt--the difference between the +swish of the right kind of silk petticoats and the wrong kind; and yet +her technique had been broad enough to take in a landscape. "Every girl +should have a background," had been one of her maxims, and Sylvia had to +have a special phaeton to drive, a special horse to ride, special roses +which no one else was allowed to wear. + +"Conspicuous expenditure of time," wrote Veblen. It was curious, said +Sylvia, but nobody was free from this kind of vanity. There was dear old +Uncle Basil, a more godly bishop never lived, and yet he had a foible +for carving! In his opinion the one certain test of a gentleman was the +ease with which he found the joints of all kinds of meat, and he was in +arms against the modern tendency to turn such accomplishments over to +butlers. He would hold forth on the subject, illustrating his theories +with an elegant knife, and Sylvia remembered how her father and the +Chilton boys had wired up the joints of a duck for the bishop to work +on. In the struggle the bishop had preserved his dignity, but lost the +duck, and the bishop's wife, being also high-born, and with a long line +of traditions behind her, had calmly continued the conversation, while +the butler removed the smoking duck from her lap! + +Such was the way of things at Castleman Hall! The wild, care-free +people--like half-grown children, romping their way through life! There +was really nothing too crazy for them to do, if the whim struck them. +Once a visiting cousin had ventured the remark that she saw no reason +why people should not eat rats; a barn-rat was clean in its person, +and far choicer in its food than a pig. Thereupon "Miss Margaret" had +secretly ordered the yard-man to secure a barn-rat; she had had it +broiled, and served in a dish of squirrels, and had sat by and watched +the young lady enjoy it! And this, mind you, was Mrs. Castleman of +Castleman Hall, mother of five children, and as stately a dame as ever +led the grand march at the Governor's inaugural ball! "Major Castleman," +she would say to her husband, "you may take me into my bedroom, and when +you have locked the door securely, you may spit upon me, if you wish; +but don't you dare even to _imagine_ anything undignified about me in +public!" + +15. In course of time Sylvia and I became very good friends. Proud as +she was, she was lonely, and in need of some one to open her eager mind +to. Who was there safer to trust than this plain Western woman, who +lived so far, both in reality and in ideas, from the great world of +fashion? + +Before we parted she considered it necessary to mention my relationship +to this world. She had a most acute social conscience. She knew exactly +what formalities she owed to everyone, just when she ought to call, and +how long she ought to stay, and what she ought to ask the other person +to do in return; she assumed that the other knew it all exactly as well, +and would suffer if she failed in the slightest degree. + +So now she had to throw herself upon my mercy. "You see," she explained, +"my husband wouldn't understand. I may be able to change him gradually, +but if I shock him all at once--" + +"My dear Mrs. van Tuiver--" I smiled. + +"You can't really imagine!" she persisted. "You see, he takes his social +position so seriously! And when you are conspicuous--when everybody's +talking about what you do--when everything that's the least bit unusual +is magnified--" + +"My dear girl!" I broke in again. "Stop a moment and let me talk!" + +"But I hate to have to think--" + +"Don't worry about my thoughts! They are most happy ones! You must +understand that a Socialist cannot feel about such things as you do; we +work out our economic interpretation of them, and after that they are +simply so much data to us. I might meet one of your great friends, and +she might snub me, but I would never think she had snubbed _me_--it +would be my Western accent, and my forty-cent hat, and things like +that which had put me in a class in her mind. My real self nobody can +snub--certainly not until they've got at it." + +"Ah!" said Sylvia, with shining eyes. "You have your own kind of +aristocracy, I see!" + +"What I want," I said, "is you. I'm an old hen whose chickens have grown +up and left her, and I want something to mother. Your wonderful social +world is just a bother to me, because it keeps me from gathering you +into my arms as I'd like to. So what you do is to think of some role for +me to play, so that I can come to see you; let me be advising you about +your proposed day-nursery, or let me be a tutor of something, or a nice, +respectable sewing-woman who darns the toes of your silk stockings!" + +She laughed. "If you suppose that I'm allowed to wear my stockings until +they have holes in them, you don't understand the perquisites of maids." +She thought a moment, and then added: "You might come to trim hats for +me." + +By that I knew that we were really friends. If it does not seem to you +a bold thing for Sylvia to have made a joke about my hat, it is +only because you do not yet know her. I have referred to her +money-consciousness and her social-consciousness; I would be idealizing +her if I did not refer to another aspect of her which appalled me when I +came to realise it--her clothes-consciousness. She knew every variety of +fabric and every shade of colour and every style of design that ever +had been delivered of the frenzied sartorial imagination. She had been +trained in all the infinite minutiae which distinguished the right from +the almost right; she would sweep a human being at one glance, and stick +him in a pigeon hole of her mind for ever--because of his clothes. When +later on she had come to be conscious of this clothes-consciousness, +she told me that ninety-nine times out of a hundred she had found this +method of appraisal adequate for the purposes of society life. What a +curious comment upon our civilization--that all that people had to +ask of one another, all they had to give to one another, should be +expressible in terms of clothes! + +16. I had set out to educate Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver in the things I +thought she needed to know. A part of my programme was to find some +people of modern sympathies whom she might meet without offence to +her old prejudices. The first person I thought of was Mrs. Jessie +Frothingham, who was the head of a fashionable girls' school, just +around the corner from Miss Abercrombie's where Sylvia herself had +received the finishing touch. Mrs. Frothingham's was as exclusive and +expensive a school as the most proper person could demand, and great was +Sylvia's consternation when I told her that its principal was a member +of the Socialist party, and made no bones about speaking in public for +us. + +How in the world did she manage it? For one thing, I answered, she ran +a good school--nobody had ever been heard to deny that. For another, she +was an irresistibly serene and healthy person, who would look one of her +millionaire "papas" in the eye and tell him what was what with so much +decision; it would suddenly occur to the great man that if his daughter +could be made into so capable a woman, he would not care what ticket she +might vote. + +Then too, it was testimony to the headway we are making that we are +ceasing to be dangerous, and getting to be picturesque. In these days of +strenuous social competition, when mammas are almost at their wits' end +for some new device, when it costs incredible sums to make no impression +at all--here was offered a new and inexpensive way of being unique. +There could be no question that men were getting to like serious women; +the most amazing subjects were coming up at dinner-parties, and you +might hear the best people speak disrespectfully of their own money, +which means that the new Revolution will have not merely its "Egalit +Orleans," but also some of the ladies of his family! + +I telephoned from Sylvia's house to Mrs. Frothingham, who answered: +"Wouldn't you like Mrs. van Tuiver to hear a speech? I am to speak next +week at the noon-day Wall Street meeting." I passed the question on, and +Sylvia answered with an exclamation of delight: "Would a small boy like +to attend a circus?" + +It was arranged that Sylvia was to take us in her car. You may picture +me with my grand friends--an old speckled hen in the company of two +golden pheasants. I kept very quiet and let them get acquainted, knowing +that my cause was safe in the hands of one so perfectly tailored as Mrs. +Frothingham. + +Sylvia expressed her delight at the idea of hearing a Socialist speech, +and her amazement that the head of Mrs. Frothingham's should be so +courageous, and meantime we threaded our way through the tangle of +trucks and surface-cars on Broadway, and came to the corner of Wall +Street. Here Mrs. Frothingham said she would get out and walk; it was +quite likely that someone might recognise Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, and +she ought not to be seen arriving with the speaker. Sylvia, who +would not willingly have committed a breach of etiquette towards a +bomb-throwing anarchist, protested at this, but Mrs. Frothingham laughed +good-naturedly, saying that it would be time enough for Mrs. van Tuiver +to commit herself when she knew what she believed. + +The speaking was to be from the steps of the Sub-treasury. We made +a _dtour,_ and came up Broad Street, stopping a little way from the +corner. These meetings had been held all through the summer and fall, so +that people had learned to expect them; although it lacked some minutes +of noon, there was already a crowd gathered. A group of men stood upon +the broad steps, one with a red banner and several others with armfuls +of pamphlets and books. With them was our friend, who looked at us and +smiled, but gave no other sign of recognition. + +Sylvia pushed back the collar of her sable coat, and sat erect in her +shining blue velvet, her eyes and her golden hair shining beneath +the small brim of a soft velvet hat. As she gazed eagerly at the busy +throngs of men hurrying about this busy corner, she whispered to me: "I +haven't been so excited since my _dbut_ party!" + +The crowd increased until it was difficult to get through Wall Street. +The bell of Old Trinity was tolling the hour of noon, and the meeting +was about to begin, when suddenly I heard an exclamation from Sylvia, +and turning, saw a well-dressed man pushing his way from the office of +Morgan and Company towards us. Sylvia clutched my hand where it lay on +the seat of the car, and half gasped: "My husband!" + +17. Of course I had been anxious to see Douglas van Tuiver. I had heard +Claire Lepage's account of him, and Sylvia's, also I had seen pictures +of him in the newspapers, and had studied them with some care, trying +to imagine what sort of personage he might be. I knew that he was +twenty-four, but the man who came towards us I would have taken to be +forty. His face was sombre, with large features and strongly marked +lines about the mouth; he was tall and thin, and moved with decision, +betraying no emotion even in this moment of surprise. "What are you +doing here?" were his first words. + +For my part, I was badly "rattled"; I knew by the clutch of Sylvia's +hand that she was too. But here I got a lesson in the nature of "social +training." Some of the bright colour had faded from her face, but she +spoke with the utmost coolness, the words coming naturally and simply: +"We can't get through the crowd." And at the same time she looked about +her, as much as to say: "You can see for yourself." (One of the maxims +of Lady Dee had set forth that a lady never told a lie if she could +avoid it.) + +Sylvia's husband looked about, saying: "Why don't you call an officer?" +He started to follow his own suggestion, and I thought then that my +friend would miss her meeting. But she had more nerve than I imagined. + +"No," she said. "Please don't." + +"Why not?" Still there was no emotion in the cold, grey eyes. + +"Because--I think there's something going on." + +"What of that?" + +"I'm not in a hurry, and I'd like to see." + +He stood for a moment looking at the crowd. Mrs. Frothingham had come +forward, evidently intending to speak. "What is this, Ferris?" he +demanded of the chauffeur. + +"I'm not sure, sir," said the man. "I think it's a Socialist meeting." +(He was, of course, not missing the little comedy. I wondered what he +thought!) + +"A Socialist meeting?" said van Tuiver; then, to his wife: "You don't +want to stay for that!" + +Again Sylvia astonished me. "I'd like to very much," she answered +simply. + +He made no reply. I saw him stare at her, and then I saw his glance +take me in. I sat in a corner as inconspicuous as I could make myself. +I wondered whether I was a sempstress or a tutor, and whether either +of these functionaries were introduced, and whether they shook hands or +not. + +Mrs. Frothingham had taken her stand at the base of Washington's statue. +Had she by any chance identified the tall and immaculate gentleman who +stood beside the automobile? Before she had said three sentences I made +sure that she had done so, and I was appalled at her audacity. + +"Fellow citizens," she began--"fellow-buccaneers of Wall Street." And +when the mild laughter had subsided: "What I have to say is going to +be addressed to one individual among you--the American millionaire. +I assume there is one present--if no actual millionaire, then surely +several who are destined to be, and not less than a thousand who aspire +to be. So hear me, Mr. Millionaire," this with a smile, which gave you +a sense of a reserve fund of energy and good humour. She had the +crowd with her from the start--all but one. I stole a glance at the +millionaire, and saw that he was not smiling. + +"Won't you get in?" asked his wife, and he answered coldly: "No, I'll +wait till you've had enough." + +"Last summer I had a curious experience," said the speaker. "I was +a guest at a tennis match, played upon the grounds of a State +insane-asylum, the players being the doctors of the institution. Here, +on a beautiful sunshiny afternoon, were ladies and gentlemen clad in +festive white, enjoying a holiday, while in the background stood a +frowning building with iron-barred gates and windows, from which +one heard now and then the howlings of the maniacs. Some of the less +fortunate of these victims of fate had been let loose, and while we +played tennis, they chased the balls. All afternoon, while I sipped tea +and chatted and watched the games, I said to myself: 'Here is the most +perfect simile of our civilization that has ever come to me. Some people +wear white and play tennis all day, while other people chase the balls, +or howl in dungeons in the background!' And that is the problem I wish +to put before my American millionaire--the problem of what I will call +our lunatic-asylum stage of civilization. Mind you, this condition +is all very well so long as we can say that the lunatics are +incurable--that there is nothing we can do but shut our ears to their +howling, and go ahead with our tennis. But suppose the idea were to +dawn upon us that it is only because we played tennis all day that the +lunatic-asylum is crowded, then might not the howls grow unendurable to +us, and the game lose its charm?" + +Stealing glances about me, I saw that several people were watching the +forty-or-fifty-times-over millionaire; they had evidently recognised +him, and were enjoying the joke. "Haven't you had enough of this?" he +suddenly demanded of his wife, and she answered, guilelessly: "No, let's +wait. I'm interested." + +"Now, listen to me, Mr. American Millionaire," the speaker was +continuing. "You are the one who plays tennis, and we, who chase the +balls for you--we are the lunatics. And my purpose to-day is to prove +to you that it is only because you play tennis all day that we have +to chase balls all the day, and to tell you that some time soon we are +going to cease to be lunatics, and that then you will have to chase your +own balls! And don't, in your amusement over this illustration, lose +sight of the serious nature of what I am talking about--the horrible +economic lunacy which is known as poverty, and which is responsible +for most of the evils we have in this world to-day--for crime and +prostitution, suicide, insanity and war. My purpose is to show you, not +by any guess of mine, or any appeals to your faith, but by cold business +facts which can be understood in Wall Street, that this economic lunacy +is one which can be cured; that we have the remedy in our hands, and +lack nothing but the intelligence to apply it." + +18. I do not want to bore you with a Socialist speech. I only want to +give you an idea of the trap into which Mr. Douglas van Tuiver had +been drawn. He stood there, rigidly aloof while the speaker went on +to explain the basic facts of wealth-production in modern society. She +quoted from Kropotkin: "'Fields, Factories and Work-shops,' on sale +at this meeting for a quarter!"--showing how by modern intensive +farming--no matter of theory, but methods which were in commercial +use in hundreds of places--it would be possible to feed the entire +population of the globe from the soil of the British Isles alone. She +showed by the bulletins of the United States Government how the machine +process had increased the productive power of the individual labourer +ten, twenty, a hundred fold. So vast was man's power of producing wealth +today, and yet the labourer lived in dire want just as in the days of +crude hand-industry! + +So she came back to her millionaire, upon whom this evil rested. He was +the master of the machine for whose profit the labourer had to produce. +He could only employ the labourer to produce what could be sold at a +profit; and so the stream of prosperity was choked at its source. "It +is you, Mr. Millionaire, who are to blame for poverty; it is because +so many millions of dollars must be paid to you in profits that so +many millions of men must live in want. In other words, precisely as I +declared at the outset, it is your playing tennis which is responsible +for the lunatics chasing the balls!" + +I wish that I might give some sense of the speaker's mastery of this +situation, the extent to which she had communicated her good-humour to +the crowd. You heard ripple after ripple of laughter, you saw everywhere +about you eager faces, following every turn of the argument. No +one could resist the contagion of interest--save only the American +millionaire! He stood impassive, never once smiling, never once +betraying a trace of feeling. Venturing to watch him more closely, +however, I could see the stern lines deepening about his mouth, and his +long, lean face growing more set. + +The speaker had outlined the remedy--a change from the system of +production for profit to one of production for use. She went on to +explain how the change was coming; the lunatic classes were beginning +to doubt the divine nature of the rules of the asylum, and they were +preparing to mutiny, and take possession of the place. And here I saw +that Sylvia's husband had reached his limit. He turned to her: "Haven't +you had enough of this?" + +"Why, no," she began. "If you don't mind--" + +"I do mind very much," he said, abruptly. "I think you are committing +a breach of taste to stay here, and I would be greatly obliged if you +would leave." + +And without really waiting for Sylvia's reply, he directed, "Back out of +here, Ferris." + +The chauffeur cranked up, and sounded his horn--which naturally had the +effect of disturbing the meeting. People supposed we were going to try +to get through the crowd ahead--and there was no place where anyone +could move. But van Tuiver went to the rear of the car, saying, in a +voice of quiet authority: "A little room here, please." And so, foot by +foot, we backed away from the meeting, and when we had got clear of the +throng, the master of the car stepped in, and we turned and made our way +down Broad Street. + +And now I was to get a lesson in the aristocratic ideal. Of course van +Tuiver was angry; I believe he even suspected his wife of having known +of the meeting. I supposed he would ask some questions; I supposed that +at least he would express his opinion of the speech, his disgust that +a woman of education should make such a spectacle of herself. Such +husbands as I had been familiar with had never hesitated to vent their +feelings under such circumstances. But from Douglas van Tuiver there +came--not a word! He sat, perfectly straight, staring before him, like +a sphinx; and Sylvia, after one or two swift glances at him, began to +gossip cheerfully about her plans for the day-nursery for working-women! + +So for a few blocks, until suddenly she leaned forward. "Stop here, +Ferris." And then, turning to me, "Here is the American Trust Company." + +"The American Trust Company?" I echoed, in my dumb stupidity. + +"Yes--that is where the check is payable," said Sylvia, and gave me a +pinch. + +And so I comprehended, and gathered up my belongings and got out. She +shook my hand warmly, and her husband raised his hat in a very formal +salute, after which the car sped on up the street. I stood staring after +it, in somewhat the state of mind of any humble rustic who may have been +present when Elijah was borne into the heavens by the chariot of fire! + +19. Sylvia had been something less than polite to me; and so I had not +been home more than an hour before there came a messenger-boy with a +note. By way of reassuring her, I promised to come to see her the next +morning; and when I did, and saw her lovely face so full of concern, I +forgot entirely her worldly greatness, and did what I had longed to do +from the beginning--put my arms about her and kissed her. + +"My dear girl," I protested, "I don't want to be a burden in your +life--I want to help you!'" + +"But," she exclaimed, "what must you have thought--" + +"I thought I had made a lucky escape!" I laughed. + +She was proud--proud as an Indian; it was hard for her to make +admissions about her husband. But then--we were like two errant +school-girls, who had been caught m an escapade! "I don't know what I'm +going to do about him," she said, with a wry smile. "He really won't +listen--I can't make any impression on him." + +"Did he guess that you'd come there on purpose?" I asked. + +"I told him," she answered. + +"You _told_ him!" + +"I'd meant to keep it secret--I wouldn't have minded telling him a fib +about a little thing. But he made it so very serious!" + +I could understand that it must have been serious after the telling. I +waited for her to add what news she chose. + +"It seems," she said, "that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs. +Frothingham's. You can imagine!" + +"I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil." + +"No; my husband says his Uncle Archibald always was a fool. But how can +anyone be so narrow! He seemed to take Mrs. Frothingham as a personal +affront." + +This was the most definite bit of vexation against her husband that she +had ever let me see. I decided to turn it into a jest. "Mrs. Frothingham +will be glad to know she was understood," I said. + +"But seriously, why can't men have open minds about politics and money?" +She went on in a worried voice: "I knew he was like this when I met +him at Harvard. He was living in his own house, aloof from the poorer +men--the men who were most worth while, it seemed to me. And when I +told him of the bad effect he was having on these men and on his own +character as well, he said he would do whatever I asked--he even gave +up his house and went to live in a dormitory. So I thought I had some +influence on him. But now, here is the same thing again, only I find +that one can't take a stand against one's husband. At least, he doesn't +admit the right." She hesitated. "It doesn't seem loyal to talk about +it." + +"My dear girl," I said with an impulse of candour, "there isn't much you +can tell me about that problem. My own marriage went to pieces on that +rock." + +I saw a look of surprise upon her face. "I haven't told you my story +yet," I said. "Some day I will--when you feel you know me well enough +for us to exchange confidences." + +There was more than a hint of invitation in this. After a silence, she +said: "One's instinct is to hide one's troubles." + +"Sylvia," I answered, "let me tell you about us. You must realise that +you've been a wonderful person to me; you belong to a world I never had +anything to do with, and never expected to get a glimpse of. It's the +wickedness of our class-civilization that human beings can't be just +human beings to each other--a king can hardly have a friend. Even after +I've overcome the impulse I have to be awed by your luxury and your +grandness; I'm conscious of the fact that everybody else is awed by +them. If I so much as mention that I've met you, I see people start and +stare at me--instantly I become a personage. It makes me angry, because +I want to know _you_." + +She was gazing at me, not saying a word. I went on: "I'd never have +thought it possible for anyone to be in your position and be real and +straight and human, but I realise that you have managed to work that +miracle. So I want to love you and help you, in every way I know how. +But you must understand, I can't ask for your confidence, as I could for +any other woman's. There is too much vulgar curiosity about the rich and +great, and I can't pretend to be unaware of that hatefulness; I can't +help shrinking from it. So all I can say is--if you need me, if you ever +need a real friend, why, here I am; you may be sure I understand, and +won't tell your secrets to anyone else." + +With a little mist of tears in her eyes, Sylvia put out her hand and +touched mine. And so we went into a chamber alone together, and shut the +cold and suspicious world outside. + +20. We knew each other well enough now to discuss the topic which has +been the favourite of women since we sat in the doorways of caves and +pounded wild grain in stone mortars--the question of our lords, who had +gone hunting, and who might be pleased to beat us on their return. +I learned all that Sylvia had been taught on the subject of the male +animal; I opened that amazing unwritten volume of woman traditions, the +maxims of Lady Dee Lysle. + +Sylvia's maternal great-aunt had been a great lady out of a great +age, and incidentally a grim and grizzled veteran of the sex-war. Her +philosophy started from a recognition of the physical and economic +inferiority of woman, as complete as any window-smashing suffragette +could have formulated, but her remedy for it was a purely individualist +one, the leisure-class woman's skill in trading upon her sex. Lady Dee +did not use that word, of course--she would as soon have talked of her +esophagus. Her formula was "charm," and she had taught Sylvia that the +preservation of "charm" was the end of woman's existence, the thing by +which she remained a lady, and without which she was more contemptible +than the beasts. + +She had taught this, not merely by example and casual anecdote, but by +precepts as solemnly expounded as bible-texts. "Remember, my dear, a +woman with a husband is like a lion-tamer with a whip!" And the old lady +would explain what a hard and dangerous life was lived by lion-tamers, +how their safety depended upon life-long distrustfulness of the +creatures over whom they ruled. She would tell stories of the rending +and maiming of luckless ones, who had forgotten for a brief moment the +nature of the male animal! "Yes, my dear," she would say, "believe +in love; but let the man believe first!" Her maxims never sinned by +verbosity. + +The end of all this was not merely food and shelter, a home and +children, it was the supremacy of a sex, its ability to shape life to +its whim. By means of this magic "charm"--a sort of perpetual individual +sex-strike--a woman turned her handicaps into advantages and her chains +into ornaments; she made herself a rare and wonderful creature, up to +whom men gazed in awe. It was "romantic love," but preserved throughout +life, instead of ceasing with courtship. + +All the Castleman women understood these arts, and employed them. There +was Aunt Nannie, when she cracked her whip the dear old bishop-lion +would jump as if he had been shot! Did not the whole State know the +story of how once he had been called upon at a banquet and had risen and +remarked: "Ladies and gentlemen, I had intended to make a speech to you +this evening, but I see that my wife is present, so I must beg you to +excuse me." The audience roared, and Aunt Nannie was furious, but poor +dear Bishop Chilton had spoken but the literal truth, that he could not +spread the wings of his eloquence in the presence of his "better half." + +And with Major Castleman, though it seemed different, it was really +the same. Sylvia's mother had let herself get stout--which seemed a +dangerous mark of confidence in the male animal. But the major was +fifteen years older than his wife, and she had a weak heart with which +to intimidate him. Now and then the wilfulness of Castleman Lysle would +become unendurable in the house, and his father would seize him and turn +him over his knee. His screams would bring "Miss Margaret" flying to the +rescue: "Major Castleman, how dare you spank one of _my_ children?" And +she would seize the boy and march off in terrible haughtiness, and lock +herself and her child in her room, and for hours afterwards the poor +major would wander about the house, suffering the lonelines of the +guilty soul. You would hear him tapping gently at his lady's door. +"Honey! Honey! Are you mad with me?" "Major Castleman," the stately +answer would come, "will you oblige me by leaving one room in this house +to which I may retire?" + +21. I would give you a wrong idea of Sylvia if I did not make clear that +along with this sophistication as to the play-aspects of sex, there +went the most incredible ignorance as to its practical realities. In my +arguments I had thought to appeal to her by referring to that feature of +wage-slavery which more than even child-labour stirs the moral sense of +women, but to my utter consternation I discovered that here was a +woman nearly a year married who did not know what prostitution was. A +suspicion had begun to dawn upon her, and she asked me, timidly: Could +it be possible that that intimacy which was given in marriage could +become a thing of barter in the market-place? When I told her the truth, +I found her horror so great that it was impossible to go on talking +economics. How could I say that women were driven to such things by +poverty? Surely a woman who was not bad at heart would starve, before +she would sell her body to a man! + +Perhaps I should have been more patient with her, but I am bitter on +these subjects. "My dear Mrs. van Tuiver," I said, "there is a lot of +nonsense talked about this matter. There is very little sex-life for +women without a money-price made clear in advance." + +"I don't understand," she said. + +"I don't know about your case," I replied, "but when I married, it was +because I was unhappy and wanted a home of my own. And if the truth were +told, that is why most women marry." + +"But what has THAT to do with it?" she cried. She really did not see! + +"What is the difference--except that such women stand out for a +maintenance, while the prostitute takes cash?" I saw that I had shocked +her, and I said: "You must be humble about these things, because you +have never been poor, and you cannot judge those who have been. But +surely you must have known worldly women who married rich men for their +money. And surely you admit that that is prostitution?" + +She fell suddenly silent, and I saw what I had done, and, no doubt, you +will say I should have been ashamed of myself. But when one has seen as +much of misery and injustice as I have, one cannot be so patient with +the fine artificial delicacies and sentimentalities of the idle rich. I +went ahead to tell her some stories, showing her what poverty actually +meant to women. + +Then, as she remained silent, I asked her how she had managed to remain +so ignorant. Surely she must have met with the word "prostitution" in +books; she must have heard allusions to the "demi-monde." + +"Of course," she said, "I used to see conspicuous-looking women at the +race-track in New Orleans; I've sat near them in restaurants, I've known +by my mother's looks and her agitation that they must be bad women. But +you see, I didn't know what it meant--I had nothing but a vague feeling +of something dreadful." + +I smiled. "Then Lady Dee did not tell you everything about the +possibilities of her system of 'charm.'" + +"No," said Sylvia. "Evidently she didn't!" She sat staring at me, trying +to get up the courage to go on with this plain speaking. + +And at last the courage came. "I think it is wrong," she exclaimed. +"Girls ought not to be kept so ignorant! They ought to know what such +things mean. Why, I didn't even know what marriage meant!" + +"Can that be true?" I asked. + +"All my life I had thought of marriage, in a way; I had been trained to +think of it with every eligible man I met--but to me it meant a home, a +place of my own to entertain people in. I pictured myself going driving +with my husband, giving dinner-parties to his friends. I knew I'd have +to let him kiss me, but beyond that--I had a vague idea of something, +but I didn't think. I had been deliberately trained not to let myself +think--to run away from every image that came to me. And I went on +dreaming of what I'd wear, and how I'd greet my husband when he came +home in the evening." + +"Didn't you think about children?" + +"Yes--but I thought of the CHILDREN. I thought what they'd look like, +and how they'd talk, and how I'd love them. I don't know if many young +girls shut their minds up like that." + +She was speaking with agitation, and I was gazing into her eyes, reading +more than she knew I was reading. I was nearer to solving the problem +that had been baffling me. And I wanted to take her hands in mine, and +say: "You would never have married him if you'd understood!" + +22. Sylvia thought she ought to have been taught, but when she came to +think of it she was unable to suggest who could have done the +teaching. "Your mother?" I asked, and she had to laugh, in spite of the +seriousness of her mood. "Poor dear mamma! When they sent me up here to +boarding school, she took me off and tried to tell me not to listen to +vulgar talk from the girls. She managed to make it clear that I mustn't +listen to something, and I managed not to listen. I'm sure that even +now she would rather have her tongue cut out than talk to me about such +things." + +"I talked to my children," I assured her. + +"And you didn't feel embarrassed?" + +"I did in the beginning--I had the same shrinkings to overcome. But I +had a tragedy behind me to push me on." + +I told her the story of my nephew, a shy and sensitive lad, who used to +come to me for consolation, and became as dear to me as my own children. +When he was seventeen he grew moody and despondent; he ran away from +home for six months and more, and then returned and was forgiven--but +that seemed to make no difference. One night he came to see me, and I +tried hard to get him to tell me what was wrong. He wouldn't, but went +away, and several hours later I found a letter he had shoved under the +table-cloth. I read it, and rushed out and hitched up a horse and drove +like mad to my brother-in-law's, but I got there too late, the poor boy +had taken a shot-gun to his room, and put the muzzle into his mouth, and +set off the trigger with his foot. In the letter he told me what was the +matter--he had got into trouble with a woman of the town, and had caught +syphilis. He had gone away and tried to get cured, but had fallen into +the hands of a quack, who had taken all his money and left his health +worse than ever, so in despair and shame the poor boy had shot his head +off. + +I paused, uncertain if Sylvia would understand the story. "Do you know +what syphilis is?" I asked. + +"I suppose--I have heard of what we call a 'bad disease'" she said. + +"It's a very bad disease. But if the words convey to you that it's a +disease that bad people get, I should tell you that most men take the +chance of getting it; yet they are cruel enough to despise those upon +whom the ill-luck falls. My poor nephew had been utterly ignorant--I +found out that from his father, too late. An instinct had awakened in +him of which he knew absolutely nothing; his companions had taught him +what it meant, and he had followed their lead. And then had come the +horror and the shame--and some vile, ignorant wretch to trade upon it, +and cast the boy off when he was penniless. So he had come home again, +with his gnawing secret; I pictured him wandering about, trying to make +up his mind to confide in me, wavering between that and the horrible +deed he did." + +I stopped, because even to this day I cannot tell the story without +tears. I cannot keep a picture of the boy in my room, because of the +self-reproaches that haunt me. "You can understand," I said to Sylvia, +"I never could forget such a lesson. I swore a vow over the poor lad's +body, that I would never let a boy or girl that I could reach go out in +ignorance into the world. I read up on the subject, and for a while I +was a sort of fanatic--I made people talk, young people and old people. +I broke down the taboos wherever I went, and while I shocked a good +many, I knew that I helped a good many more." + +All that was, of course, inconceivable to Sylvia. How curious was the +contrast of her one experience in the matter of venereal disease. She +told me how she had been instrumental in making a match between her +friend, Harriet Atkinson and a young scion of an ancient and haughty +family of Charleston, and how after the marriage her friend's health had +begun to give way, until now she was an utter wreck, living alone in a +dilapidated antebellum mansion, seeing no one but negro servants, and +praying for death to relieve her of her misery. + +"Of course, I don't really know," said Sylvia. "Perhaps it was +this--this disease that you speak of. None of my people would tell me--I +doubt if they really know themselves. It was just before my own wedding, +so you can understand it had a painful effect upon me. It happened that +I read something in a magazine, and I thought that--that possibly my +fiance--that someone ought to ask him, you understand--" + +She stopped, and the blood was crimson in her cheeks, with the memory +of her old excitement, and some fresh excitement added to it. There are +diseases of the mind as well as of the body, and one of them is called +prudery. + +"I can understand," I said. "It was certainly your right to be reassured +on such a point." + +"Well, I tried to talk to my Aunt Varina about it; then I wrote to Uncle +Basil, and asked him to write to Douglas. At first he refused--he only +consented to do it when I threatened to go to my father." + +"What came of it in the end?" + +"Why, my uncle wrote, and Douglas answered very kindly that he +understood, and that it was all right--I had nothing to fear. I never +expected to mention the incident to anyone again." + +"Lots of people have mentioned such things to me," I responded, to +reassure her. Then after a pause: "Tell me, how was it, if you didn't +know the meaning of marriage, how could you connect the disease with +it?" + +She answered, gazing with the wide-open, innocent eyes: "I had no +idea how people gave it to each other. I thought maybe they got it by +kissing." + +I thought to myself again: The horror of this superstition of prudery! +Can one think of anything more destructive to life than the placing of +a taboo upon such matters? Here is the whole of the future at stake--the +health, the sanity, the very existence of the race. And what fiend has +been able to contrive it that we feel like criminals when we mention the +subject? + +23. Our intimacy progressed, and the time came when Sylvia told me about +her marriage. She had accepted Douglas van Tuiver because she had lost +Frank Shirley, and her heart was broken. She could never imagine herself +loving any other man; and not knowing exactly what marriage meant, it +had been easier for her to think of her family, and to follow their +guidance. They had told her that love would come; Douglas had implored +her to give him a chance to teach her to love him. She had considered +what she could do with his money--both for her home-people and for those +she spoke of vaguely as "the poor." But now she was making the discovery +that she could not do very much for these "poor." + +"It isn't that my husband is mean," she said. "On the contrary, the +slightest hint will bring me any worldly thing I want. I have homes in +half a dozen parts of America--I have _carte blanche_ to open accounts +in two hemispheres. If any of my people need money I can get it; but if +I want it for myself, he asks me what I'm doing with it--and so I run +into the stone-wall of his ideas." + +At first the colliding with this wall had merely pained and bewildered +her. But now the combination of Veblen and myself had helped her +to realize what it meant. Douglas van Tuiver spent his money upon +a definite system: whatever went to the maintaining of his social +position, whatever added to the glory, prestige and power of the van +Tuiver name--that money was well-spent; while money spent to any other +end was money wasted--and this included all ideas and "causes." And +when the master of the house knew that his money was being wasted, it +troubled him. + +"It wasn't until after I married him that I realized how idle his life +is," she remarked. "At home all the men have something to do, running +their plantations, or getting elected to some office. But Douglas never +does anything that I can possibly think is useful." + +His fortune was invested in New York City real-estate, she went on to +explain. There was an office, with a small army of clerks and agents to +attend to it--a machine which had been built up and handed on to him by +his ancestors. It sufficed if he dropped in for an hour or two once a +week when he was in the city, and signed a batch of documents now and +then when he was away. His life was spent in the company of people whom +the social system had similarly deprived of duties; and they had, by +generations of experiment, built up for themselves a new set of duties, +a life which was wholly without relationship to reality. Into this +unreal existence Sylvia had married, and it was like a current sweeping +her in its course. So long as she went with it, all was well; but let +her try to catch hold of something and stop, and it would tear her loose +and almost strangle her. + +As time went on, she gave me strange glimpses into this world. Her +husband did not seem really to enjoy its life. As Sylvia put it, "He +takes it for granted that he has to do all the proper things that the +proper people do. He hates to be conspicuous, he says. I point out to +him that the proper things are nearly always conspicuous, but he replies +that to fail to do them would be even more conspicuous." + +It took me a long time to get really acquainted with Sylvia, because of +the extent to which this world was clamouring for her. I used to drop in +when she 'phoned me she had half an hour. I would find her dressing for +something, and she would send her maid away, and we would talk until +she would be late for some function; and that might be a serious matter, +because somebody would feel slighted. She was always "on pins and +needles" over such questions of precedent; it seemed as if everybody in +her world must be watching everybody else. There was a whole elaborate +science of how to treat the people you met, so that they would not +feel slighted--or so that they would feel slighted, according to +circumstances. + +To the enjoyment of such a life it was essential that the person +should believe in it. Douglas van Tuiver did believe in it; it was his +religion, the only one he had. (Churchman as he was, his church was +a part of the social routine.) He was proud of Sylvia, and apparently +satisfied when he could take her at his side; and Sylvia went, because +she was his wife, and that was what wives were for. She had tried her +best to be happy; she had told herself that she _was_ happy yet all the +time realizing that a woman who is really happy does not have to tell +herself. + +Earlier in life she had quaffed and enjoyed the wine of applause. I +recollect vividly her telling me of the lure her beauty had been to +her--the most terrible temptation that could come to a woman. "I walk +into a brilliant room, and I feel the thrill of admiration that +goes through the crowd. I have a sudden sense of my own physical +perfection--a glow all over me! I draw a deep breath--I feel a surge of +exaltation. I say, 'I am victorious--I can command! I have this supreme +crown of womanly grace--I am all-powerful with it--the world is mine!'" + +As she spoke the rapture was in her voice, and I looked at her--and yes, +she was beautiful! The supreme crown was hers! + +"I see other beautiful women," she went on--and swift anger came into +her voice. "I see what they are doing with this power! Gratifying their +vanity--turning men into slaves of their whim! Squandering money upon +empty pleasures--and with the dreadful plague of poverty spreading in +the world! I used to go to my father, 'Oh, papa, why must there be so +many poor people? Why should we have servants--why should they have to +wait on me, and I do nothing for them?' He would try to explain to me +that it was the way of Nature. Mamma would tell me it was the will +of the Lord--'The poor ye have always with you'--'Servants, obey your +masters'--and so on. But in spite of the Bible texts, I felt guilty. And +now I come to Douglas with the same plea--and it only makes him angry! +He has been to college and has a lot of scientific phrases--he tells me +it's 'the struggle for existence,' 'the elimination of the unfit'--and +so on. I say to him, 'First we make people unfit, and then we have to +eliminate them.' He cannot see why I do not accept what learned people +tell me--why I persist in questioning and suffering." + +She paused, and then added, "It's as if he were afraid I might find out +something he doesn't want me to! He's made me give him a promise that I +won't see Mrs. Frothingham again!" And she laughed. "I haven't told him +about you!" + +I answered, needless to say, that I hoped she would keep the secret! + +24. All this time I was busy with my child-labour work. We had an +important bill before the legislature that session, and I was doing what +I could to work up sentiment for it. I talked at every gathering where I +could get a hearing; I wrote letters to newspapers; I sent literature to +lists of names. I racked my mind for new schemes, and naturally, at such +times, I could not help thinking of Sylvia. How much she could do, if +only she would! + +I spared no one, least of all myself, and so it was not easy to spare +her. The fact that I had met her was the gossip of the office, and +everybody was waiting for something to happen. "How about Mrs. van +Tuiver?" my "chief" would ask, at intervals. "If she would _only_ go on +our press committee" my stenographer would sigh. + +The time came when our bill was in committee, a place of peril for +bills. I went to Albany to see what could be done. I met half a hundred +legislators, of whom perhaps half-a-dozen had some human interest in my +subject; the rest, well, it was discouraging. Where was the force that +would stir them, make them forget their own particular little grafts, +and serve the public welfare in defiance to hostile interests? + +Where was it? I came back to New York to look for it, and after a blue +luncheon with the members of our committee, I came away with my mind +made up--I would sacrifice my Sylvia to this desperate emergency. + +I knew just what I had to do. So far she had heard speeches about social +wrongs, or read books about them; she had never been face to face with +the reality of them. Now I persuaded her to take a morning off, and see +some of the sights of the underworld of toil. We foreswore the royal +car, and likewise the royal furs and velvets; she garbed herself in +plain appearing dark blue and went down town in the Subway like common +mortals, visiting paper-box factories and flower factories, tenement +homes where whole families sat pasting toys and gimcracks for fourteen +or sixteen hours a day, and still could not buy enough food to make +full-sized men and women of them. + +She was Dante, and I was Virgil, our inferno was an endless procession +of tortured faces--faces of women, haggard and mournful, faces of little +children, starved and stunted, dulled and dumb. Several times we stopped +to talk with these people--one little Jewess girl I knew whose three +tiny sisters had been roasted alive in a sweatshop fire. This child had +jumped from a fourth-story window, and been miraculously caught by a +fireman. She said that some man had started the fire, and been caught, +but the police had let him get away. So I had to explain to Sylvia +that curious bye-product (sic) of the profit system known as the "Arson +Trust." Authorities estimated that incendiarism was responsible for +the destruction of a quarter of a billion dollars worth of property in +America every year. So, of course, the business of starting fires was +a paying one, and the "fire-bug," like the "cadet" and the dive-keeper, +was a part of the "system." So it was quite a possible thing that the +man who had burned up this little girl's three sisters might have been +allowed to escape. + +I happened to say this in the little girl's hearing, and I saw +her pitiful strained eyes fixed upon Sylvia. Perhaps this lovely, +soft-voiced lady was a fairy god-mother, come to free her sisters from +an evil spell and to punish the wicked criminal! I saw Sylvia turn her +head away, and search for her handkerchief; as we groped our way down +the dark stairs, she caught my hand, whispering: "Oh, my God! my God!" + +It had even more effect than I had intended; not only did she say that +she would do something--anything that would be of use--but she told me +as we rode back home that her mind was made up to stop the squandering +of her husband's money. He had been planning a costume ball for a +couple of months later, an event which would keep the van Tuiver name +in condition, and would mean that he and other people would spend many +hundreds of thousands of dollars. As we rode home in the roaring Subway, +Sylvia sat beside me, erect and tense, saying that if the ball were +given, it would be without the presence of the hostess. + +I struck while the iron was hot, and got her permission to put her name +upon our committee list. She said, moreover, that she would get some +free time, and be more than a mere name to us. What were the duties of a +member of our committee? + +"First," I said, "to know the facts about child-labour, as you have seen +them to-day, and second, to help other people to know." + +"And how is that to be done?" + +"Well, for instance, there is that hearing before the legislative +committee. You remember I suggested that you appear." + +"Yes," she said in a low voice. I could almost hear the words that were +in her mind: "What would _he_ say?" + +25. Sylvia's name went upon our letter-heads and other literature, and +almost at once things began to happen. In a day or two there came a +reporter, saying he had noticed her name. Was it true that she had +become interested in our work? Would I please give him some particulars, +as the public would naturally want to know. + +I admitted that Mrs. van Tuiver had joined the committee; she approved +of our work and desired to further it. That was all. He asked: Would she +give an interview? And I answered that I was sure she would not. Then +would I tell something about how she had come to be interested in the +work? It was a chance to assist our propaganda, added the reporter, +diplomatically. + +I retired to another room, and got Sylvia upon the 'phone, "The time has +come for you to take the plunge," I said. + +"Oh, but I don't want to be in the papers!" she cried "Surely, you +wouldn't advise it!" + +"I don't see how you can avoid having something appear. Your name +is given out, and if the man can't get anything else, he'll take our +literature, and write up your doings out of his imagination." + +"And they'll print my picture with it!" she exclaimed. I could not help +laughing. "It's quite possible." + +"Oh, what will my husband do? He'll say 'I told you so!'" + +It is a hard thing to have one's husband say that, as I knew by bitter +experience. But I did not think that reason enough for giving up. + +"Let me have time to think it over," said Sylvia. "Get him to wait till +to-morrow, and meantime I can see you." + +So it was arranged. I think I told Sylvia the truth when I said that I +had never before heard of a committee member who was unwilling to have +his purposes discussed in the newspapers. To influence newspapers was +one of the main purposes of committees, and I did not see how she could +expect either editors or readers to take any other view. + +"Let me tell the man about your trip down town," I suggested, "then I +can go on to discuss the bill and how it bears on the evils you saw. +Such a statement can't possibly do you harm." + +She consented, but with the understanding that she was not to be quoted +directly. "And don't let them make me picturesque!" she exclaimed. +"That's what my husband seems most to dread." + +I wondered if he didn't think she was picturesque, when she sat in +a splendid, shining coach, and took part in a public parade through +Central Park. But I did not say this. I went off, and swore my reporter +to abstain from the "human touch," and he promised and kept his word. +There appeared next morning a dignified "write-up" of Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver's interest in child-labour reform. Quoting me, it described some +of the places she had visited, and some of the sights which had shocked +her; it went on to tell about our committee and its work, the status +of our bill in the legislature, the need of activity on the part of our +friends if the measure was to be forced through at this session. It +was a splendid "boost" for our work, and everyone in the office was in +raptures over it. The social revolution was at hand! thought my young +stenographer. + +But the trouble with this business of publicity is that, however +carefully you control your interviewer, you cannot control the others +who use his material. The "afternoon men" came round for more details, +and they made it clear that it was personal details they wanted. And +when I side-stepped their questions, they went off and made up answers +to suit themselves, and printed Sylvia's pictures, together with +photographs of child-workers taken from our pamphlets. + +I called Sylvia up while she was dressing for dinner, to explain that I +was not responsible for any of this picturesqueness. "Oh, perhaps I am +to blame myself!" she exclaimed. "I think I interviewed a reporter." + +"How do you mean?" + +"A woman sent up her card--she told the footman she was a friend of +mine. And I thought--I couldn't be sure if I'd met her--so I went and +saw her. She said she'd met me at Mrs. Harold Cliveden's, and she began +to talk to me about child-labour, and this and that plan she had, and +what did I think of them, and suddenly it flashed over me: 'Maybe this +is a reporter playing a trick on me!'" + +I hurried out before breakfast next morning and got all the papers, +to see what this enterprising lady had done. There was nothing, so I +reflected that probably she had been a "Sunday" lady. + +But then, when I reached my office, the 'phone rang, and I heard the +voice of Sylvia: "Mary, something perfectly dreadful has happened!" + +"What?" I cried. + +"I can't tell you over the 'phone, but a certain person is furiously +angry. Can I see you if I come down right away?" + +26. Such terrors as these were unguessed by me in the days of my +obscurity. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, uneasy also, lies +the wife of that head, and the best friend of the wife. I dismissed my +stenographer, and spent ten or fifteen restless minutes until Sylvia +appeared. + +Her story was quickly told. A couple of hours ago the acting-manager of +Mr. van Tuiver's office had telephoned to ask if he might call upon a +matter of importance. He had come. Naturally, he had the most extreme +reluctance to say anything which might seem to criticise the activities +of Mr. van Tuiver's wife, but there was something in the account in +the newspapers which should be brought to her husband's attention. The +articles gave the names and locations of a number of firms in whose +factories it was alleged that Mrs. van Tuiver had found unsatisfactory +conditions, and it happened that two of these firms were located in +premises which belonged to the van Tuiver estates! + +A story coming very close to melodrama, I perceived. I sat dismayed +at what I had done. "Of course, dear girl," I said, at last, "you +understand that I had no idea who owned these buildings." + +"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Sylvia. "I am the one who should have +known!" + +Then for a long time I sat still and let her suffer. "Tenement +sweat-shops! Little children in factories!" I heard her whisper. + +At last I put my hand on hers. "I tried to put it off for a while," I +said. "But I knew it would have to come." + +"Think of me!" she exclaimed, "going about scolding other people for the +way they make their money! When I thought of my own, I had visions of +palatial hotels and office-buildings--everything splendid and clean!" + +"Well, my dear, you've learned now, and you will be able to do +something--" + +She turned upon me suddenly, and for the first time I saw in her face +the passions of tragedy. "Do you believe I will be able to do anything? +No! Don't have any such idea!" + +I was struck dumb. She got up and began to pace the room. "Oh, don't +make any mistake, I've paid for my great marriage in the last hour or +two. To think that he cares about nothing save the possibility of being +found out and made ridiculous! All his friends have been 'muckraked,' as +he calls it, and he has sat aloft and smiled over their plight; he was +the landed gentleman, the true aristrocrat, whom the worries of traders +and money-changers didn't concern. Now perhaps he's caught, and his +name is to be dragged in the mire, and it's my flightiness, my lack of +commonsense that has done it!" + +"I shouldn't let that trouble me," I said. "You could not know--" + +"Oh, it's not that! It's that I hadn't a single courageous word to say +to him--not a hint that he ought to refuse to wring blood-money from +sweat-shops! I came away without having done it, because I couldn't face +his anger, because it would have meant a quarrel!" + +"My dear," I said gently, "it is possible to survive a quarrel." + +"No, you don't understand! We should never make it up again, I know--I +saw it in his words, in his face. He will never change to please me, +no, not even a simple thing like the business-methods of the van Tuiver +estates." + +I could not help smiling. "My dear Sylvia! A simple thing!" + +She came and sat beside me. "That's what I want to talk about. It is +time I was growing up. It it time that I knew about these things. Tell +me about them." + +"What, my dear?" + +"About the methods of the van Tuiver estates, that can't be changed to +please me. I made out one thing, we had recently paid a fine for some +infraction of the law in one of those buildings, and my husband said +it was because we had refused to pay more money to a tenement-house +inspector. I asked him: 'Why should we pay any money at all to a +tenement-house inspector? Isn't it bribery?' He answered: 'It's a +custom--the same as you give a tip to a hotel waiter.' Is that true?" + +I could not help smiling. "Your husband ought to know, my dear," I said. + +I saw her compress her lips. "What is the tip for?" + +"I suppose it is to keep out of trouble with him." + +"But why can't we keep out of trouble by obeying the law?" + +"My dear, sometimes the law is inconvenient, and sometimes it is +complicated and obscure. It might be that you are violating it without +knowing the fact. It might be uncertain whether you are violating it +or not, so that to settle the question would mean a lot of expense and +publicity. It might even be that the law is impossible to obey--that it +was not intended to be obeyed." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I mean, maybe it was passed to put you at the mercy of the +politicians." + +"But," she protested, "that would be blackmail." + +"The phrase," I replied, "is 'strike-legislation.'" + +"But at least, that wouldn't be our fault!" + +"No, not unless you had begun it. It generally happens that the landlord +discovers it's a good thing to have politicians who will work with him. +Maybe he wants his assessments lowered; maybe he wants to know where new +car lines are to go, so that he can buy intelligently; maybe he wants +the city to improve his neighbourhood; maybe he wants influence at court +when he has some heavy damage suit." + +"So we bribe everyone!" + +"Not necessarily. You may simply wait until campaign-time, and then make +your contribution to the machine. That is the basis of the 'System.'." + +"The 'System '?" + +"A semi-criminal police-force, and everything that pays tribute to it; +the saloon and the dive, the gambling hell the white-slave market, and +the Arson trust." + +I saw a wild look in her eyes. "Tell me, do you _know_ that all these +things are true? Or are you only guessing about them?" + +"My dear Sylvia," I answered, "you said it was time you grew up. For the +present I will tell you this: Several months before I met you, I made +a speech in which I named some of the organised forces of evil in the +city. One was Tammany Hall, and another was the Traction Trust, and +another was the Trinity Church Corporation, and yet another was the van +Tuiver estates." + +27. The following Sunday there appeared a "magazine story" of an +interview with the infinitely beautiful young wife of the infinitely +rich Mr. Douglas van Tuiver, in which the views of the wife on the +subject of child-labour were liberally interlarded with descriptions +of her reception-room and her morning-gown. But mere picturesqueness by +that time had been pretty well discounted in our minds. So long as +the article did not say anything about the ownership of child-labour +tenements! + +I did not see Sylvia for several weeks after that. I took it for granted +that she would want some time to get herself together and make up her +mind about the future. I did not feel anxious; the seed had sprouted, +and I felt sure it would continue to grow. + +Then one day she called me up, asking if I could come to see her. I +suggested that afternoon, and she said she was having tea with some +people at the Palace Hotel, and could I come there just after tea-time? +I remember the place and the hour, because of the curious adventure into +which I got myself. One hears the saying, when unexpected encounters +take place, "How small the world is!" But I thought the world was +growing really too small when I went into a hotel tea-room to wait for +Sylvia, and found myself face to face with Claire Lepage! + +The place appointed had been the "orange-room"; I stood in the door-way, +sweeping the place with my eyes, and I saw Mrs. van Tuiver at the same +moment that she saw me. She was sitting at a table with several other +people and she nodded, and I took a seat to wait. From my position I +could watch her, in animated conversation; and she could send me a smile +now and then. So I was decidedly startled when I heard a voice, "Why, +how do you do?" and looked up and saw Claire holding out her hand to me. + +"Well, for heaven's sake!" I exclaimed. + +"You don't come to see me any more," she said. + +"Why, no--no, I've been busy of late." So much I managed to ejaculate, +in spite of my confusion. + +"You seem surprised to see me," she remarked--observant as usual, and +sensitive to other people's attitude to her. + +"Why, naturally," I said. And then, recollecting that it was not in the +least natural--since she spent a good deal of her time in such places--I +added, "I was looking for someone else." + +"May I do in the meantime?" she inquired, taking a seat beside me. "What +are you so busy about?" + +"My child-labour work," I answered. Then, in an instant, I was sorry for +the words, thinking she must have read about Sylvia's activities. I did +not want her to know that I had met Sylvia, for it would mean a flood of +questions, which I did not want to answer--nor yet to refuse to answer. + +But my fear was needless. "I've been out of town," she said. + +"Whereabouts?" I asked, making conversation. + +"A little trip to Bermuda." + +My mind was busy with the problem of getting rid of her. It would be +intolerable to have Sylvia come up to us; it was intolerable to know +that they were in sight of each other. + +Even as the thought came to me, however, I saw Claire start. "Look!" she +exclaimed. + +"What is it?" + +"That woman there--in the green velvet! The fourth table." + +"I see her." + +"Do you know who she is?" + +"Who?" (I remembered Lady Dee's maxim about lying!) + +"Sylvia Castleman!" whispered Claire. (She always referred to her +thus--seeming to say, "I'm as much van Tuiver as she is!") + +"Are you sure?" I asked--in order to say something. + +"I've seen her a score of times. I seem to be always running into her. +That's Freddie Atkins she's talking to." + +"Indeed!" said I. + +"I know most of the men I see her with. But I have to walk by as if I'd +never seen them. A queer world we live in, isn't it?" + +I could assent cordially to that proposition. "Listen," I broke in, +quickly. "Have you got anything to do? If not, come down to the Royalty +and have tea with me." + +"Why not have it here?" + +"I've been waiting for someone from there, and I have to leave a +message. Then I'll be free." + +She rose, to my vast relief, and we walked out. I could feel Sylvia's +eyes following me; but I dared not try to send her a message--I would +have to make up some explanation afterwards. "Who was your well-dressed +friend?" I could imagine her asking; but my mind was more concerned with +the vision of what would happen if, in full sight of her companion, Mr. +Freddie Atkins, she were to rise and walk over to Claire and myself! + +28. Seated in the palm-room of the other hotel, I sipped a cup of +tea which I felt I had earned, while Claire had a little glass of the +fancy-coloured liquids which the ladies in these places affect. The room +was an aviary, with tropical plants and splashing fountains--and birds +of many gorgeous hues; I gazed from one to another of the splendid +creatures, wondering how many of them were paying for their plumage +in the same way as my present companion. It would have taken a more +practiced eye than mine to say which, for if I had been asked, I +would have taken Claire for a diplomat's wife. She had not less than a +thousand dollars' worth of raiment upon her, and its style made clear to +all the world the fact that it had not been saved over from a previous +season of prosperity. She was a fine creature, who could carry any +amount of sail; with her bold, black eyes she looked thoroughly +competent, and it was hard to believe in the fundamental softness of her +character. + +I sat, looking about me, annoyed at having missed Sylvia, and only half +listening to Claire. But suddenly she brought me to attention. "Well," +she said, "I've met him." + +"Met whom?" + +"Douglas." + +I stared at her. "Douglas van Tuiver?" + +She nodded; and I suppressed a cry. + +"I told you he'd come back," she added, with a laugh. + +"You mean he came to see you?" + +I could not hide my concern. But there was no need to, for it +flattered Claire's vanity. "No--not yet, but he will. I met him at Jack +Taylor's--at a supper-party." + +"Did he know you were to be there?" + +"No. But he didn't leave when he saw me." + +There was a pause. I could not trust myself to say anything. But Claire +had no intention of leaving me curious. "I don't think he's happy with +her," she remarked. + +"What makes you say that?" + +"Oh, several things. I know him, you know. He wouldn't say he was." + +"Perhaps he didn't want to discuss it with you." + +"Oh, no--not that. He isn't reserved with me." + +"I should think it was dangerous to discuss one's wife under such +circumstances," I laughed. + +Claire laughed also. "You should have heard what Jack had to say about +his wife! She's down at Palm Beach." + +"She'd better come home," I ventured. + +"He was telling what a dance she leads him; she raises Cain if a woman +looks at him--and she damns every woman he meets before the woman has a +chance to look. Jack said marriage was hell--just hell. Reggie Channing +thought it was like a pair of old slippers that you got used to." Jack +laughed and answered, "You're at the stage where you think you can solve +the marriage problem by deceiving your wife!" + +I made no comment. Claire sat for a while, busy with her thoughts; then +she repeated, "He wouldn't say he was happy! And he misses me, too. When +he was going, I held his hand, and said: 'Well, Douglas, how goes it?'" + +"And then?" I asked; but she would not say any more. + +I waited a while, and then began, "Claire, let him alone. Give them a +chance to be happy." + +"Why should I?" she demanded, in a voice of hostility. + +"She never harmed you," I said. I knew I was being foolish, but I would +do what I could. + +"She took him away from me, didn't she?" And Claire's eyes were suddenly +alight with the hatred of her outcast class. "Why did she get him? +Why is she Mrs. van Tuiver, and I nobody? Because her father was rich, +because she had power and position, while I had to scratch for myself in +the world. Is that true, or isn't it?" + +I could not deny that it might be part of the truth. "But they're +married now," I said, "and he loves her." + +"He loves me, too. And I love him still, in spite of the way he's +treated me. He's the only man I ever really loved. Do you think I'm +going off and hide in a hole, while she spends his money and plays the +princess up and down the Avenue? Not much!" + +I fell silent. Should I set out upon another effort at "moulding water"? +Should I give Claire one more scolding--tell her, perhaps, how her very +features were becoming hard and ugly, as a result of the feelings she +was harbouring? Should I recall the pretences of generosity and dignity +she had made when we first met? I might have attempted this--but +something held me back. After all, the one person who could decide this +issue was Douglas van Tuiver. + +I rose. "Well, I have to be going. But I'll drop round now and then, and +see what success you have." + +She became suddenly important. "Maybe I won't tell!" + +To which I answered, indifferently, "All right, it's your secret." But I +went off without much worry over that part of it. Claire must have some +one to whom to recount her troubles--or her triumphs, as the case might +be. + +29. I had my talk with Sylvia a day or two later, and made my excuse--a +friend from the West who had been going out of town in a few hours +later. + +The seed had been growing, I found. Ever since we had last met, her life +had consisted of arguments over the costume-ball on which her husband +had set his heart, and at which she had refused to play the hostess. + +"Of course, he's right about one thing," she remarked. "We can't stay in +New York unless we give some big affair. Everyone expects it, and there +is no explanation except one he could not offer." + +"I've made a big breach in your life, Sylvia," I said. + +"It wasn't all you. This unhappiness has been in me--it's been like a +boil, and you've been the poultice." (She had four younger brothers and +sisters, so these domestic similes came naturally.) + +"Boils," I remarked, "are disfiguring, when they come to a head." + +There was a pause. "How is your child-labour bill?" she asked, abruptly. + +"Why, it's all right." + +"Didn't I see a letter in the paper saying it had been referred to a +sub-committee, some trick to suppress it for this session?" + +I could not answer. I had been hoping she had not seen that letter. + +"If I were to come forward now," she said, "I could possibly block that +move, couldn't I?" + +Still I said nothing. + +"If I were to take a bold stand--I mean if I were to speak at a public +meeting, and denounce the move." + +"I suppose you could," I had to admit. + +For a long time she sat with her head bowed. "The children will have to +wait," she said, at last, half to herself. + +"My dear," I answered (What else was there to answer?) "the children +have waited a long time." + +"I hate to turn back--to have you say I'm a coward--" + +"I won't say that, Sylvia." + +"You will be too kind, no doubt, but that will be the truth." + +I tried to reassure her. But the acids I had used--intended for tougher +skins than hers--had burned into the very bone, and now it was not +possible to stop their action. "I must make you understand," she said, +"how serious a thing it seems to me for a wife to stand out against +her husband. I've been brought up to feel that it was the most terrible +thing a woman could do." + +She stopped, and when she went on again her face was set like one +enduring pain. "So this is the decision to which I have come. If I do +anything of a public nature now, I drive my husband from me; on +the other hand, if I take a little time, I may be able to save the +situation. I need to educate myself, and I'm hoping I may be able to +educate him at the same time. If I can get him to read something--if +it's only a few paragraphs everyday--I may gradually change his point of +view, so that he will tolerate what I believe. At any rate, I ought to +try; I am sure that is the wise and kind and fair thing to do." + +"What will you do about the ball?" I asked. + +"I am going to take him away, out of this rush and distraction, this +dressing and undressing, hurrying about meeting people and chattering +about nothing." + +"He is willing?" + +"Yes; in fact, he suggested it himself. He thinks my mind is turned, +with all the things I've been reading, and with Mrs. Frothingham, and +Mrs. Allison, and the rest. He hopes that if I go away, I may quiet +down and come to my senses. We have a good excuse. I have to think of my +health just now---" + +She stopped, and looked away from my eyes. I saw the colour spreading in +a slow wave over her cheeks; it was like those tints of early dawn that +are so ravishing to the souls of poets. "In four or five months from +now---" And she stopped again. + +I put my big hand gently over her small one. "I have three children of +my own," I said. + +"So," she went on, "it won't seem so unreasonable. Some people know, and +the rest will guess, and there won't be any talk--I mean, such as +there would be if it was rumoured that Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver had got +interested in Socialism, and refused to spend her husband's money." + +"I understand," I replied. "It's quite the most sensible thing, and I'm +glad you've found a way out. I shall miss you, of course, but we can +write each other long letters. Where are you going?" + +"I'm not absolutely sure. Douglas suggests a cruise in the West Indies, +but I think I should rather be settled in one place. He has a lovely +house in the mountains of North Carolina, and wants me to go there; but +it's a show-place, with rich homes all round, and I know I'd soon be in +a social whirl. I thought of the camp in the Adirondacks. It would be +glorious to see the real woods in winter; but I lose my nerve when I +think of the cold--I was brought up in a warm place." + +"A 'camp' sounds rather primitive for one in your condition," I +suggested. + +"That's because you haven't been there. In reality it's a big house, +with twenty-five rooms, and steam-heat and electric lights, and half a +dozen men to take care of it when it's empty--as it has been for several +years." + +I smiled--for I could read her thought. "Are you going to be unhappy +because you can't occupy all your husband's homes?" + +"There's one other I prefer," she continued, unwilling to be made to +smile. "They call it a 'fishing lodge,' and it's down in the Florida +Keys. They're putting a railroad through there, but meantime you can +only get to it by a launch. From the pictures, it's the most heavenly +spot imaginable. Fancy running about those wonderful green waters in a +motor-boat!" + +"It sounds quite alluring," I replied. "But isn't it remote for you?" + +"We're not so very far from Key West; and my husband means to have a +physician with us in any case. The advantage of being in a small place +is that we couldn't entertain if we wanted to. I can have my Aunt Varina +come to stay with me, a dear, sweet soul who loves me devotedly; and +then if I find I have to have some new ideas, perhaps you can come---" + +"I don't think your husband would favour that," I said. + +She put her hand out to me in a quick gesture. "I don't mean to give up +our friendship! I want you to understand, I intend to go on studying and +growing. I am doing what he asked me--it's right that I should think of +his wishes, and of the health of my child. But the child will be growing +up, and sooner or later my husband must grant me the right to think, +to have a life of my own. You must stand by me and help me, whatever +happens." + +I gave her my hand on that, and so we parted--for some time, as it +proved. I went up to Albany once more, in a last futile effort to save +our precious bill; and while I was there I got a note from her, saying +that she was leaving for the Florida Keys. + + + + + +BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER + + +For three months after this I had nothing but letters from Sylvia. She +proved to be an excellent letter-writer, full of verve and colour. +I would not say that she poured out her soul to me, but she gave me +glimpses of her states of mind, and the progress of her domestic drama. + +First, she described the place to which she had come; a ravishing spot, +where any woman ought to be happy. It was a little island, fringed with +a border of cocoanut-palms, which rustled and whispered day and night in +the breeze. It was covered with tropical foliage, and there was a long, +rambling bungalow, with screened "galleries," and a beach of hard white +sand in front. The water was blue, dazzling with sunshine, and dotted +with distant green islands; all of it, air, water, and islands, were +warm. "I don't realize till I get here," she said, "I am never really +happy in the North. I wrap myself against the assaults of a cruel enemy. +But here I am at home; I cast off my furs, I stretch out my arms, I +bloom. I believe I shall quite cease to think for a while--I shall +forget all storms and troubles, and bask on the sand like a lizard. + +"And the water! Mary, you cannot imagine such water; why should it be +blue on top, and green when you look down into it? I have a little skiff +of my own in which I drift, and I have been happy for hours, studying +the bottom; you see every colour of the rainbow, and all as clear as in +an aquarium. I have been fishing, too, and have caught a tarpon. That +is supposed to be a great adventure, and it really is quite thrilling to +feel the monstrous creature struggling with you--though, of course, my +arms soon gave out, and I had to turn him over to my husband. This is +one of the famous fishing-grounds of the world, and I am glad of that, +because it will keep the men happy while I enjoy the sunshine. + +"I have discovered a fascinating diversion," she wrote, in a second +letter. "I make them take me in the launch to one of the loneliest of +the keys; they go off to fish, and I have the whole day to myself, and +am as happy as a child on a picnic! I roam the beach, I take off my +shoes and stockings--there are no newspaper reporters snapping pictures. +I dare not go far in, for there are huge black creatures with dangerous +stinging tails; they rush away in a cloud of sand when I approach, but +the thought of stepping upon one by accident is terrifying. However, +I let the little wavelets wash round my toes, and I try to grab little +fish, and I pick up lovely shells; and then I go on, and I see a huge +turtle waddling to the water, and I dash up, and would stop him if I +dared, and then I find his eggs--such an adventure! + +"I am the prey of strange appetites and cravings. I have a delicious +luncheon with me, but suddenly the one thing in the world I want to +eat is turtle-eggs. I have no matches with me, and I do not know how to +build a fire like the Indians, so I have to hide the eggs back in the +sand until to-morrow. I hope the turtle does not move them--and that I +have not lost my craving in the meantime! + +"Then I go exploring inland. These islands were once the haunts of +pirates, so I may imagine all sorts of romantic things. What I find +are lemon-trees. I do not know if they are wild, or if the key was once +cultivated; the lemons are huge in size, and nearly all skin, but the +flavour is delicious. Turtle-eggs with wild lemon-juice! And then I go +on and come to a mangrove-swamp--dark and forbidding, a grisly place; +you imagine the trees are in torment, with limbs and roots tangled like +writhing serpents. I tiptoe in a little way, and then get frightened, +and run back to the beach. + +"I see on the sand a mysterious little yellow creature, running like the +wind; I make a dash, and get between him and his hole; and so he stands, +crouching on guard, staring at me, and I at him. He is some sort of +crab, but he stands on two legs like a caricature of a man; he has two +big weapons upraised for battle, and staring black eyes stuck out on +long tubes. He is an uncanny thing to look at; but then suddenly the +idea comes, How do I seem to him? I realize that he is alive; a tiny +mite of hunger for life, of fear and resolution. I think, How lonely he +must be! And I want to tell him that I love him, and would not hurt him +for the world; but I have no way to make him understand me, and all I +can do is to go away and leave him. I go, thinking what a strange +place the world is, with so many living things, each shut away apart by +himself, unable to understand the others or make the others understand +him. This is what is called philosophy, is it not? Tell me some books +where these things are explained.... + +"I am reading all you sent me. When I grew tired of exploring the key, I +lay down in the shade of a palm-tree, and read--guess what? 'Number Five +John Street'! So all this loveliness vanished, and I was back in the +world's nightmare. An extraordinary book! I decided that it would be +good for my husband, so I read him a few paragraphs; but I found that it +only irritated him. He wants me to rest, he says--he can't see why I've +come away to the Florida Keys to read about the slums of London. + +"My hope of gradually influencing his mind has led to a rather appalling +discovery--that he has the same intention as regards me! He too has +brought a selection of books, and reads to me a few pages every day, and +explains what they mean. He calls _this_ resting! I am no match for +him, of course--I never realized more keenly the worthlessness of my +education. But I see in a general way where his arguments tend--that +life is something that has grown, and is not in the power of men to +change; but even if he could convince me of this, I should not find it a +source of joy. I have a feeling always that if you were here, you would +know something to answer. + +"The truth is that I am so pained by the conflict between us that I +cannot argue at all. I find myself wondering what our marriage would +have been like if we had discovered that we had the same ideas and +interests. There are days and nights at a time when I tell myself that +I ought to believe what my husband believes, that I ought never have +allowed myself to think of anything else. But that really won't do as a +life-programme; I tried it years ago with my dear mother and father. Did +I ever tell you that my mother is firmly convinced in her heart that I +am to suffer eternally in a real hell of fire because I do not believe +certain things about the Bible? She still has visions of it--though not +so bad since she turned me over to a husband! + +"Now it is my husband who is worried about my ideas. He is reading a +book by Burke, a well-known old writer. The book deals with English +history, which I don't know much about, but I see that it resents modern +changes, and the whole spirit of change. And Mary, why can't I feel that +way? I really ought to love those old and stately things, I ought to +be reverent to the past; I was brought up that way. Sometimes I tremble +when I realize how very flippant and cynical I am. I seem to see the +wrong side of everything, so that I couldn't believe in it if I wanted +to!" + +2. Her letters were full of the wonders of Nature about her. There was +a snow-white egret who made his home upon her island; she watched his +fishing operations, and meant to find his nest, so as to watch his +young. The men made a trip into the Everglades, and brought back +wonder-tales of flocks of flamingoes making scarlet clouds in the sky, +huge colonies of birds' nests crowded like a city. They had brought home +a young one, which screamed all day to be stuffed with fish. + +A cousin of Sylvia's, Harley Chilton, had come to visit her. He had +taken van Tuiver on hunting-trips during the latter's courtship days, +and now was a good fishing-companion. He was not allowed to discover the +state of affairs between Sylvia and her husband, but he saw his cousin +reading serious books, and his contribution to the problem was to tell +her that she would get wrinkles in her face, and that even her feet +would grow big, like those of the ladies in New England. + +Also, there was the young physician who kept watch over Sylvia's +health; a dapper little man with pink and white complexion, and a brown +moustache from which he could not keep his fingers. He had a bungalow +to himself, but sometimes he went along on the launch-trips, and Sylvia +thought she observed wrinkles of amusement round his eyes whenever she +differed from her husband on the subject of Burke. She suspected +this young man of not telling all his ideas to his multi-millionaire +patients, and she was entertained by the prospect of probing him. + +Then came Mrs. Varina Tuis; who since the tragic cutting of her own +domestic knot, had given her life to the service of the happier members +of the Castleman line. She was now to be companion and counsellor to +Sylvia; and on the very day of her arrival she discovered the chasm that +was yawning in her niece's life. + +"It's wonderful," wrote Sylvia, "the intuition of the Castleman women. +We were in the launch, passing one of the viaducts of the new railroad, +and Aunt Varina exclaimed, 'What a wonderful piece of work!' 'Yes,' put +in my husband, 'but don't let Sylvia hear you say it.' 'Why not?' she +asked; and he replied, 'She'll tell you how many hours a day the poor +Dagoes have to work.' That was all; but I saw Aunt Varina give a quick +glance at me, and I saw that she was not fooled by my efforts to make +conversation. It was rather horrid of Douglas, for he knows that I love +these old people, and do not want them to know about my trouble. But it +is characteristic of him--when he is annoyed he seldom tries to spare +others. + +"As soon as we were alone, Aunt Varina began, 'Sylvia, my dear, what +does it mean? What have you done to worry your husband?' + +"You would be entertained if I could remember the conversation. I tried +to dodge the trouble by answering off-hand, 'Douglas had eaten too many +turtle-eggs for luncheon '--this being a man-like thing, that any dear +old lady would understand. But she was too shrewd. I had to explain +to her that I was learning to think, and this sent her into a perfect +panic. + +"'You actually mean, my child, that you are thinking about subjects to +which your husband objects, and you refuse to stop when he asks you to? +Surely you must know that he has some good reason for objecting.' + +"'I suppose so,' I said, 'but he has not made that reason clear to me; +and certainly I have a right--' + +"She would not hear any more than that. 'Right, Sylvia? Right? Are you +claiming the right to drive your husband from you?' + +"'But surely I can't regulate all my thinking by the fear of driving my +husband from me!' + +"'Sylvia, you take my breath away. Where did you get such ideas?' + +"'But answer me, Aunt Varina--can I?' + +"'What thinking is as important to a woman as thinking how to please +a good, kind husband? What would become of her family if she no longer +tried to do this?' + +"So you see, we opened up a large subject. I know you consider me a +backward person, and you may be interested to learn that there are some +to whom I seem a terrifying rebel. Picture poor Aunt Varina, her old +face full of concern, repeating over and over, 'My child, my child, I +hope I have come in time! Don't scorn the advice of a woman who has paid +bitterly for her mistakes. You have a good husband, a man who loves you +devotedly; you are one of the most fortunate of women--now do not throw +your happiness away!' + +"'Aunt Varina,' I said (I forget if I ever told you that her husband +gambled and drank, and finally committed suicide) 'Aunt Varina, do you +really believe that every man is so anxious to get away from his wife +that it must take her whole stock of energy, her skill in diplomacy, to +keep him?' + +"'Sylvia,' she answered, 'you put things so strangely, you use such +horribly crude language, I don't know how to talk to you!' (That must be +your fault, Mary. I never heard such a charge before.) 'I can only tell +you this--that the wife who permits herself to think about other things +than her duty to her husband and her children is taking a frightful +risk. She is playing with fire, Sylvia--she will realize too late what +it means to set aside the wisdom of her sex, the experience of other +women for ages and ages!' + +"So there you are, Mary! I am studying another unwritten book, the +Maxims of Aunt Varina! + +"She has found the remedy for my troubles, the cure for my disease of +thought--I am to sew! I tell her that I have more clothes than I can +wear in a dozen seasons, and she answers, in an awesome voice, 'There is +the little stranger!' When I point out that the little stranger will +be expected to have a 'layette' costing many thousands of dollars, she +replies, 'They will surely permit him to wear some of the things +his mother's hands have made.' So, behold me, seated on the gallery, +learning fancy stitches--and with Kautsky on the Social Revolution +hidden away in the bottom of my sewing-bag!" + +3. The weeks passed. The legislature at Albany adjourned, without regard +to our wishes; and so, like the patient spider whose web is destroyed, +we set to work upon a new one. So much money must be raised, so many +articles must be written, so many speeches delivered, so many people +seized upon and harried and wrought to a state of mind where they were +dangerous to the future career of legislators. Such is the process of +social reform under the private property rgime; a process which the +pure and simple reformers imagine we shall tolerate for ever--God save +us! + +Sylvia asked me for the news, and I told it to her--how we had failed, +and what we had to do next. So pretty soon there came by registered mail +a little box, in which I found a diamond ring. "I cannot ask him for +money just now," she explained, "but here is something that has been +mine from girlhood. It cost about four hundred dollars--this for your +guidance in selling it. Not a day passes that I do not see many times +that much wasted; so take it for the cause." Queen Isabella and her +jewels! + +In this letter she told me of a talk she had had with her husband on the +"woman-problem." She had thought at first that it was going to prove a +helpful talk--he had been in a fairer mood than she was usually able to +induce. "He evaded some of my questions," she explained, "but I don't +think it was deliberate; it is simply the evasive attitude of mind which +the whole world takes. He says he does not think that women are inferior +to men, only that they are different; the mistake is for them to try to +become _like_ men. It is the old proposition of 'charm,' you see. I put +that to him, and he admitted that he did like to be 'charmed.' + +"I said, 'You wouldn't, if you knew as much about the process as I do.' + +"'Why not?' he asked. + +"'Because, it's not an honest process. It's not a straight way for one +sex to deal with the other.' + +"He asked what I meant by that; but then, remembering the cautions of +my great-aunt, I laughed. 'If you are going to compel me to use the +process, you can hardly expect me to tell you the secret of it.' + +"'Then there's no use trying to talk,' he said. + +"'Ah, but there is!' I exclaimed. 'You admit that I have 'charm'--dozens +of other men admitted it. And so it ought to count for something if +I declare that I know it's not an honest thing--that it depends upon +trickery, and appeals to the worst qualities in a man. For instance, his +vanity. "Flatter him," Lady Dee used to say. "He'll swallow it." And he +will--I never knew a man to refuse a compliment in my life. His love of +domination. "If you want anything, make him think that _he_ wants it!" +His egotism. She had a bitter saying--I can hear the very tones of her +voice: "When in doubt, talk about HIM." That is what is called "charm"!' + +"'I don't seem to feel it,' he said. + +"' No, because now you are behind the scenes. But when you were in +front, you felt it, you can't deny. And you would feel it again, any +time I chose to use it. But I want to know if there is not some honest +way a woman can interest a man. The question really comes to this--Can a +man love a woman for what she really is?' + +"'I should say,' he said, 'that it depends upon the woman.' + +"I admitted this was a plausible answer. 'But you loved me, when I made +myself a mystery to you. But now that I am honest with you, you have +made it clear that you don't like it, that you won't have it. And that +is the problem that women have to face. It is a fact that the women +of our family have always ruled the men; but they've done it by +indirection--nobody ever thought seriously of "women's rights" in +Castleman County. But you see, women _have_ rights; and somehow or other +they will fool the men, or else the men must give up the idea that +they are the superior sex, and have the right, or the ability, to rule +women.' + +"Then I saw how little he had followed me. 'There has to be a head to +the family,' he said. + +"I answered, 'There have been cases in history of a king and queen +ruling together, and getting along very well. Why not the same thing in +a family?' + +"'That's all right, so far as the things of the family are concerned. +But such affairs as business and politics are in the sphere of men; +and women cannot meddle in them without losing their best qualities as +women.' + +"And so there we were. I won't repeat his arguments, for doubtless you +have read enough anti-suffrage literature. The thing I noticed was that +if I was very tactful and patient, I could apparently carry him along +with me; but when the matter came up again, I would discover that he +was back where he had been before. A woman must accept the guidance of +a man; she must take the man's word for the things that he understands. +'But suppose the man is _wrong?_' I said; and there we stopped--there we +shall stop always, I begin to fear. I agree with him that woman should +obey man--so long as man is right!" + +4. Her letters did not all deal with this problem. In spite of the +sewing, she found time to read a number of books, and we argued about +these. Then, too, she had been probing her young doctor, and had made +interesting discoveries about him. For one thing, he was full of awe +and admiration for her; and her awakening mind found material for +speculation in this. + +"Here is this young man; he thinks he is a scientist, he rather prides +himself upon being cold-blooded; yet a cunning woman could twist him +round her finger. He had an unhappy love-affair when he was young, so he +confided to me; and now, in his need and loneliness, a beautiful woman +is transformed into something supernatural in his imagination--she is +like a shimmering soap-bubble, that he blows with his own breath. I know +that I could never get him to see the real truth about me; I might tell +him that I have let myself be tied up in a golden net--but he would only +marvel at my spirituality. Oh, the women I have seen trading upon the +credulity of men! And when I think how I did this myself! If men +were wise, they would give us the vote, and a share in the world's +work--anything that would bring us out into the light of day, and break +the spell of mystery that hangs round us! + +"By the way," she wrote in another letter, "there will be trouble if you +come down here. I was telling Dr. Perrin about you, and your ideas about +fasting, and mental healing, and the rest of your fads. He got very +much excited. It seems that he takes his diploma seriously, and he's not +willing to be taught by amateur experiments. He wanted me to take some +pills, and I refused, and I think now he blames you for it. He has found +a bond of sympathy with my husband, who proves his respect for authority +by taking whatever he is told to take. Dr. Perrin got his medical +training here in the South, and I imagine he's ten or twenty years +behind the rest of the medical world. Douglas picked him out because +he'd met him socially. It makes no difference to me--because I don't +mean to have any doctoring done to me!" + +Then, on top of these things, would come a cry from her soul. "Mary, +what will you do if some day you get a letter from me confessing that I +am not happy? I dare not say a word to my own people. I am supposed to +be at the apex of human triumph, and I have to play that role to keep +from hurting them. I know that if my dear old father got an inkling of +the truth, it would kill him. My one real solid consolation is that I +have helped him, that I have lifted a money-burden from his life; I have +done that, I tell myself, over and over; but then I wonder, have I done +anything but put the reckoning off? I have given all his other children +a new excuse for extravagance, an impulse towards worldliness which they +did not need. + +"There is my sister Celeste, for example. I don't think I have told you +about her. She made her _dbut_ last fall, and was coming up to New York +to stay with me this winter. She had it all arranged in her mind to make +a rich marriage; I was to give her the _entre_--and now I have been +selfish, and thought of my own desires, and gone away. Can I say to her, +Be warned by me, I have made a great match, and it has not brought me +happiness? She would not understand, she would say I was foolish. She +would say, 'If I had your luck, _I_ would be happy.' And the worst of it +is, it would be true. + +"You see the position I am in with the rest of the children. I cannot +say, 'You are spending too much of papa's money, it is wrong for you to +sign cheques and trust to his carelessness.' I have had my share of the +money, I have lined my own nest. All I can do is to buy dresses and hats +for Celeste; and know that she will use these to fill her girl-friends +with envy, and make scores of other families live beyond their means." + +5. Sylvia's pregnancy was moving to its appointed end. She wrote me +beautifully about it, much more frankly and simply than she could have +brought herself to talk. She recalled to me my own raptures, and +also, my own heartbreak. "Mary! Mary! I felt the child to-day! Such a +sensation, I could not have credited it if anyone had told me. I almost +fainted. There is something in me that wants to turn back, that is +afraid to go on with such experiences. I do not wish to be seized in +spite of myself, and made to feel things beyond my control. I wander off +down the beach, and hide myself, and cry and cry. I think I could almost +pray again." + +And then again, "I am in ecstasy, because I am to bear a child, a child +of my own! Oh, wonderful, wonderful! But suddenly my ecstasy is shot +through with terror, because the father of this child is a man I do not +love. There is no use trying to deceive myself--nor you! I must have one +human soul with whom I can talk about it as it really is. I do not love +him, I never did love him, I never shall love him! + +"Oh, how could they have all been so mistaken? Here is Aunt Varina--one +of those who helped to persuade me into this marriage. She told me that +love would come; it seemed to be her idea--my mother had it too--that +you had only to submit yourself to a man, to follow and obey him, and +love would take possession of your heart. I tried credulously, and it +did not happen as they promised. And now, I am to bear him a child; and +that will bind us together for ever! + +"Oh, the despair of it--I do not love the father of my child! I say, The +child will be partly his, perhaps more his than mine. It will be like +him--it will have this quality and that, the very qualities, perhaps, +that are a source of distress to me in the father. So I shall have these +things before me day and night, all the rest of my life; I shall have to +see them growing and hardening; it will be a perpetual crucifixion of +my mother-love. I seek to comfort myself by saying, The child can be +trained differently, so that he will not have these qualities. But then +I think, No, you cannot train him as you wish. Your husband will have +rights to the child, rights superior to your own. Then I foresee the +most dreadful strife between us. + +"A shrewd girl-friend once told me that I ought to be better or worse; I +ought not to see people's faults as I do, or else I ought to love people +less. And I can see that I ought to have been too good to make this +marriage, or else not too good to make the best of it. I know that +I might be happy as Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, if I could think of the +worldly advantages, and the fact that my child will inherit them. But +instead, I see them as a trap, in which not only ourselves but the child +is caught, and from which I cannot save us. Oh, what a mistake a woman +makes when she marries a man with the idea that she is going to change +him! He will not change, he will not have the need of change suggested +to him. He wants _peace_ in his home--which means that he wants to be +what he is. + +"Sometimes I can study the situation quite coolly, and as if it didn't +concern me at all. He has required me to subject my mind to his. But +he will not be content with a general capitulation; he must have a +surrender from each individual soldier, from every rebel hidden in the +hills. He tracks them out (my poor, straggling, feeble ideas) and either +they take the oath of allegiance, or they are buried where they lie. The +process is like the spoiling of a child, I find; the more you give him, +the more he wants. And if any little thing is refused, then you see him +set out upon a regular campaign to break you down and get it." + +A month or more later she wrote: "Poor Douglas is getting restless. He +has caught every kind of fish there is to catch, and hunted every kind +of animal and bird, in and out of season. Harley has gone home, and so +have our other guests; it would be embarrassing to me to have company +now. So Douglas has no one but the doctor and myself and my poor aunt. +He has spoken several times of our going away; but I do not want to go, +and I think I ought to consider my own health at this critical time. It +is hot here, but I simply thrive in it--I never felt in better health. +So I asked him to go up to New York, or visit somewhere for a while, +and let me stay here until my baby is born. Does that seem so very +unreasonable? It does not to me, but poor Aunt Varina is in agony about +it--I am letting my husband drift away from me! + +"I speculate about my lot as a woman; I see the bitterness and the +sorrow of my sex through the ages. I have become physically misshapen, +so that I am no longer attractive to him. I am no longer active and +free, I can no longer go about with him; on the contrary, I am a burden, +and he is a man who never tolerated a burden before. What this means is +that I have lost the magic hold of sex. + +"As a woman it was my business to exert all my energies to maintain it. +And I know how I could restore it now; there is young Dr. Perrin! _He_ +does not find me a burden, _he_ would tolerate any deficiencies! And +I can see my husband on the alert in an instant, if I become too much +absorbed in discussing your health-theories with my handsome young +guardian! + +"This is one of the recognized methods of keeping your husband; I +learned from Lady Dee all there is to know about it. But I would find +the method impossible now, even if my happiness were dependent upon +retaining my husband's love. I should think of the rights of my friend, +the little doctor. That is one point to note for the 'new' woman, is it +not? You may mention it in your next suffrage-speech! + +"There are other methods, of course. I have a mind, and I might turn its +powers to entertaining him, instead of trying to solve the problems of +the universe. But to do this, I should have to believe that it was the +one thing in the world for me to do; and I have permitted a doubt of +that to gain entrance to my brain! My poor aunt's exhortations inspire +me to efforts to regain the faith of my mothers, but I simply cannot--I +cannot! She sits by me with the terror of all the women of all the ages +in her eyes. I am losing a man! + +"I don't know if you have ever set out to hold a man--deliberately, +I mean. Probably you haven't. That bitter maxim of Lady Dee's is the +literal truth of it--'When in doubt, talk about HIM!' If you will +tactfully and shrewdly keep a man talking about himself, his tastes, +his ideas, his work and the importance of it, there is never the least +possibility of your boring him. You must not just tamely agree with him, +of course; if you hint a difference now and then, and make him convince +you, he will find that stimulating; or if you can manage not to be quite +convinced, but sweetly open to conviction, he will surely call again. +'Keep him busy every minute,' Lady Dee used to say. 'Run away with him +now and then--like a spirited horse!' And she would add, 'But don't let +him drop the reins!' + +"You can have no idea how many women there are in the world deliberately +playing such parts. Some of them admit it; others just do the thing that +is easiest, and would die of horror if they were told what it is. It +is the whole of the life of a successful society woman, young or old. +Pleasing a man! Waiting upon his moods, piquing him, flattering him, +feeding his vanity--'charming' him! That is what Aunt Varina wants me to +do now; if I am not too crude in my description of the process, she has +no hesitation in admitting the truth. It is what she tried to do, it is +what almost every woman has done who has held a family together and made +a home. I was reading _Jane Eyre_ the other day. _There_ is your woman's +ideal of an imperious and impetuous lover! Listen to him, when his mood +is on him!-- + +"I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night; and that +is why I sent for you; the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient +company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. +To-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and +recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out--to learn +more of you--therefore speak!" + +6. It was now May, and Sylvia's time was little more than a month off. +She had been urging me to come and visit her, but I had refused, knowing +that my presence must necessarily be disturbing to both her husband and +her aunt. But now she wrote that her husband was going back to New +York. "He was staying out of a sense of duty to me," she said. "But his +discontent was so apparent that I had to point out to him that he was +doing harm to me as well as to himself. + +"I doubt if you will want to come here now. The last of the winter +visitors have left. It is really hot, so hot that you cannot get cool by +going into the water. Yet I am revelling in it; I wear almost nothing, +and that white; and even the suspicious Dr. Perrin cannot but admit that +I am thriving; his references to pills are purely formal. + +"Lately I have not permitted myself to think much about the situation +between my husband and myself. I cannot blame him, and I cannot blame +myself, and I am trying to keep my peace of mind till my baby is born. I +have found myself following half-instinctively the procedure you told +me about; I talk to my own subconscious mind, and to the baby--I command +them to be well. I whisper to them things that are not so very far from +praying; but I don't think my poor dear mamma would recognize it in its +new scientific dress! + +"But sometimes I can't help thinking of the child and its future, +and then all of a sudden my heart is ready to break with pity for the +child's father! I have the consciousness that I do not love him, and +that he has always known it--and that makes me remorseful. But I told +him the truth before we married--he promised to be patient with me till +I had learned to love him! Now I want to burst into tears and cry aloud, +'Oh, why did you do it? Why did I let myself be persuaded into this +marriage?' + +"I tried to have a talk with him last night, after he had decided to go +away. I was full of pity, and a desire to help. I said I wanted him +to know that no matter how much we might disagree about some things, +I meant to learn to live happily with him. We must find some sort of +compromise, for the sake of the child, if not for ourselves; we must not +let the child suffer. He answered coldly that there would be no need +for the child to suffer, the child would have the best the world could +afford. I suggested that there might arise some question as to just +what the best was; but to that he said nothing. He went on to rebuke my +discontent; had he not given me everything a woman could want? he asked. +He was too polite to mention money; but he said that I had leisure and +entire freedom from care. I was persisting in assuming cares, while he +was doing all in his power to prevent it. + +"And that was as far as we got. I gave up the discussion, for we should +only have gone the old round over again. + +"Douglas has taken up a saying that my cousin brought with him: 'What +you don't know won't hurt you!' I think that before he left, Harley had +begun to suspect that all was not well between my husband and myself, +and he felt it necessary to give me a little friendly counsel. He was +tactful, and politely vague, but I understood him--my worldly-wise young +cousin. I think that saying of his sums up the philosophy that he would +teach to all women--'What you don't know won't hurt you!'" + +7. A week or so later Sylvia wrote me that her husband was in New +York. And I waited another week, for good measure, and then one morning +dropped in for a call upon Claire Lepage. + +Why did I do it? you ask. I had no definite purpose--only a general +opposition to the philosophy of Cousin Harley. + +I was ushered into Claire's boudoir, which was still littered with last +evening's apparel. She sat in a dressing-gown with resplendent red roses +on it, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, and apologized for not +being ready for callers. + +"I've just had a talking to from Larry," she explained. + +"Larry?" said I, inquiringly; for Claire had always informed me +elaborately that van Tuiver had been her one departure from propriety, +and always would be. + +Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences +were too much trouble. "I've come to the conclusion that I don't know +how to manage men," she said. "I never can get along with one for any +time." + +I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I had +only tried it once. "Tell me," I said, "who's Larry?" + +"There's his picture." She reached into a drawer of her dresser. + +I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know better. +"He doesn't seem especially forbidding," I said. + +"That's just the trouble--you can never tell about men!" + +I noted a date on the picture. "He seems to be an old friend. You never +told me about him." + +"He doesn't like being told about. He has a troublesome wife." + +I winced inwardly, but all I said was, "I see." + +"He's a stock-broker; and he got 'squeezed,' so he says, and it's +made him cross--and careful with his money, too. That's trying, in a +stock-broker, you must admit." She laughed. "And still he's just as +particular--wants to have his own way in everything, wants to say whom I +shall know and where I shall go. I said, 'I have all the inconveniences +of matrimony, and none of the advantages.'" + +I made some remark upon the subject of the emancipation of woman; and +Claire, who was now leaning back in her chair, combing out her long +black tresses, smiled at me out of half-closed eyelids. "Guess whom he's +objecting to!" she said. And when I pronounced it impossible, she looked +portentous. "There are bigger fish in the sea than Larry Edgewater!" + +"And you've hooked one?" I asked, innocently. + +"Well, I don't mean to give up all my friends." + +I went on casually to talk about my plans for the summer; and a few +minutes later, after a lull--"By the way," remarked Claire, "Douglas van +Tuiver is in town." + +"How do you know?" + +"I've seen him." + +"Indeed! Where?" + +"I got Jack Taylor to invite me again. You see, when Douglas fell in +love with his peerless southern beauty, Jack predicted he'd get over it +even more quickly. Now he's interested in proving he was right." + +I waited a moment, and then asked, carelessly, "Is he having any +success?" + +"I said, 'Douglas, why don't you come to see me?' He was in a playful +mood. 'What do you want? A new automobile?' I answered, 'I haven't any +automobile, new or old, and you know it. What I want is you. I always +loved you--surely I proved that to you.' 'What you proved to me was that +you were a sort of wild-cat. I'm afraid of you. And anyway, I'm tired of +women. I'll never trust another one.'" + +"About the same conclusion as you've come to regarding men," I remarked. + +"'Douglas,' I said, 'come and see me, and we'll talk over old times. +You may trust me, I swear I'll not tell a living soul.' 'You've been +consoling yourself with someone else,' he said. But I knew he was only +guessing. He was seeking for something that would worry me, and he said, +'You're drinking too much. People that drink can't be trusted.' 'You +know,' I replied, 'I didn't drink too much when I was with you. I'm not +drinking as much as you are, right now.' He answered, 'I've been off on +a desert island for God knows how many months, and I'm celebrating my +escape.' 'Well,' I answered, 'let me help celebrate!'" + +"What did he say to that?" + +Claire resumed the combing of her silken hair, and smiled a slow smile +at me. "'You may trust me, Douglas,' I said. 'I swear I'll not tell a +living soul!'" + +"Of course," I remarked, appreciatively, "that means he said he'd come!" + +"_I_ haven't told you!" was the reply. + +8. I knew that I had only to wait for Claire to tell me the rest of the +story. But her mind went off on another tack. "Sylvia's going to have a +baby," she remarked, suddenly. + +"That ought to please her husband," I said. + +"You can see him beginning to swell with paternal pride!--so Jack said. +He sent for a bottle of some famous kind of champagne that he has, to +celebrate the new 'millionaire baby.' (They used to call Douglas that, +once upon a time.) Before they got through, they had made it triplets. +Jack says Douglas is the one man in New York who can afford them." + +"Your friend Jack seems to be what they call a wag," I commented. + +"It isn't everybody that Douglas will let carry on with him like that. +He takes himself seriously, as a rule. And he expects to take the new +baby seriously." + +"It generally binds a man tighter to his wife, don't you think?" + +I watched her closely, and saw her smile at my naivet. "No," she said, +"I don't. It leaves them restless. It's a bore all round." + +I did not dispute her authority; she ought to know her husbands, I +thought. + +She was facing the mirror, putting up her hair; and in the midst of the +operation she laughed. "All that evening, while we were having a jolly +time at Jack Taylor's, Larry was here waiting." + +"Then no wonder you had a row!" I said. + +"He hadn't told me he was coming. And was I to sit here all night alone? +It's always the same--I never knew a man who really in his heart was +willing for you to have any friends, or any sort of good time without +him." + +"Perhaps," I replied, "he's afraid you mightn't be true to him." I +meant this for a jest, of the sort that Claire and her friends would +appreciate. Little did I foresee where it was to lead us! + +I remember how once on the farm my husband had a lot of dynamite, +blasting out stumps; and my emotions when I discovered the children +innocently playing with a stick of it. Something like these children I +seem now to myself, looking back on this visit to Claire, and our talk. + +"You know," she observed, without smiling, "Larry's got a bee in his +hat. I've seen men who were jealous, and kept watch over women, but +never one that was obsessed like him." + +"What's it about?" + +"He's been reading a book about diseases, and he tells me tales about +what may happen to me, and what may happen to him. When you've listened +a while, you can see microbes crawling all over the walls of the room." + +"Well----" I began. + +"I was sick of his lecturing, so I said, 'Larry, you'll have to do like +me--have everything there is, and get over it, and then you won't need +to worry.'" + +I sat still, staring at her; I think I must have stopped breathing. +At the end of an eternity, I said, "You've not really had any of these +diseases, Claire?" + +"Who hasn't?" she countered. + +Again there was a pause. "You know," I observed, "some of them are +dangerous----" + +"Oh, of course," she answered, lightly. "There's one that makes your +nose fall in and your hair fall out--but you haven't seen anything like +that happening to me!" + +"But there's another," I hinted--"one that's much more common." And when +she did not take the hint, I continued, "Also it's more serious than +people generally realize." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "What of it? Men bring you these things, and +it's part of the game. So what's the use of bothering?" + +9. There was a long silence; I had to have time to decide what course to +take. There was so much that I wanted to get from her, and so much that +I wanted to hide from her! + +"I don't want to bore you, Claire," I began, finally, "but really this +is a matter of importance to you. You see, I've been reading up on the +subject as well as Larry. The doctors have been making new discoveries. +They used to think this was just a local infection, like a cold, but now +they find it's a blood disease, and has the gravest consequences. For +one thing, it causes most of the surgical operations that have to be +performed on women." + +"Maybe so," she said, still indifferent. "I've had two operations. But +it's ancient history now." + +"You mayn't have reached the end yet," I persisted. "People suppose they +are cured of gonorrhea, when really it's only suppressed, and is liable +to break out again at any time." + +"Yes, I knew. That's some of the information Larry had been making love +to me with." + +"It may get into the joints and cause rheumatism; it may cause +neuralgia; it's been known to affect the heart. Also it causes +two-thirds of all the blindness in infants----" + +And suddenly Claire laughed. "That's Sylvia Castleman's lookout it seems +to me!" + +"Oh! OH!" I whispered, losing my self-control. + +"What's the matter?" she asked, and I noticed that her voice had become +sharp. + +"Do you really mean what you've just implied?" + +"That Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver may have to pay something for what she has +done to me? Well, what of it?" And suddenly Claire flew into a passion, +as she always did when our talk came to her rival. "Why shouldn't she +take chances the same as the rest of us? Why should I have it and she +get off?" + +I fought for my composure. After a pause, I said: "It's not a thing +we want anybody to have, Claire. We don't want anybody to take such a +chance. The girl ought to have been told." + +"Told? Do you imagine she would have given up her great catch?" + +"She might have, how can you be sure? Anyhow, she should have had the +chance." + +There was a long silence. I was so shaken that it was hard for me to +find words. "As a matter of fact," said Claire, grimly, "I thought of +warning her myself. There'd have been some excitement at least! You +remember--when they came out of church. You helped to stop me!" + +"It would have been too late then," I heard myself saying. + +"Well," she exclaimed, with fresh excitement, "it's Miss Sylvia's +turn now! We'll see if she's such a grand lady that she can't get my +diseases!" + +I could no longer contain myself. "Claire," I cried, "you are talking +like a devil!" + +She picked up a powder-puff, and began to use it diligently. "I know," +she said--and I saw her burning eyes in the glass--"you can't fool me. +You've tried to be kind, but you despise me in your heart. You think I'm +as bad as any woman of the street. Very well then, I speak for my class, +and I tell you, this is where we prove our humanity. They throw us out, +but you see we get back in!" + +"My dear woman," I said, "you don't understand. You'd not feel as you +do, If you knew that the person to pay the penalty might be an innocent +little child." + +"_Their_ child! Yes, it's too bad if there has to be anything the matter +with the little prince! But I might as well tell you the truth--I've had +that in mind all along. I didn't know just what would happen, or how--I +don't believe anybody does, the doctors who pretend to are just faking +you. But I knew Douglas was rotten, and maybe his children would be +rotten, and they'd all of them suffer. That was one of the things that +kept me from interfering and smashing him up." + +I was speechless now, and Claire, watching me, laughed. "You look as if +you'd had no idea of it. Don't you know that I told you at the time?" + +"You told me at the time!" + +"I suppose, you didn't understand. I'm apt to talk French when I'm +excited. We have a saying: 'The wedding present which the mistress +leaves in the basket of the bride.' That was pretty near telling, wasn't +it?" + +"Yes," I said, in a low voice. + +And the other, after watching me for a moment more, went on: "You think +I'm revengeful, don't you? Well, I used to reproach myself with this, +and I tried to fight it down; but the time comes when you want people to +pay for what they take from you. Let me tell you something that I never +told to anyone, that I never expected to tell. You see me drinking and +going to the devil; you hear me talking the care-free talk of my world, +but in the beginning I was really in love with Douglas van Tuiver, and +I wanted his child. I wanted it so that it was an ache to me. And yet, +what chance did I have? I'd have been the joke of his set for ever if +I'd breathed it; I'd have been laughed out of the town. I even tried at +one time to trap him--to get his child in spite of him, but I found that +the surgeons had cut me up, and I could never have a child. So I have +to make the best of it--I have to agree with my friends that it's a good +thing, it saves me trouble! But _she_ comes along, and she has what +I wanted, and all the world thinks it wonderful and sublime. She's a +beautiful young mother! What's she ever done in her life that she has +everything, and I go without? You may spend your time shedding tears +over her and what may happen to her but for my part, I say this--let her +take her chances! Let her take her chances with the other women in the +world--the women she's too good and too pure to know anything about!" + +10. I came out of Claire's house, sick with horror. Not since the time +when I had read my poor nephew's letter had I been so shaken. Why had +I not thought long ago of questioning Claire about these matters. How +could I have left Sylvia all this time exposed to peril? + +The greatest danger was to her child at the time of birth. I figured up, +according to the last letter I had received; there was about ten days +yet, and so I felt some relief. I thought first of sending a telegram, +but reflected that it would be difficult, not merely to tell her what to +do in a telegram, but to explain to her afterwards why I had chosen +this extraordinary method. I recollected that in her last letter she had +mentioned the name of the surgeon who was coming from New York to attend +her during her confinement. Obviously the thing for me to do was to see +this surgeon. + +"Well, madame?" he said, when I was seated in his inner office. + +He was a tall, elderly man, immaculately groomed, and formal and precise +in his manner. "Dr. Overton," I began, "my friend, Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver writes me that you are going to Florida shortly." + +"That is correct," he said. + +"I have come to see you about a delicate matter. I presume I need hardly +say that I am relying upon the seal of professional secrecy." + +I saw his gaze become suddenly fixed. "Certainly, madame," he said. + +"I am taking this course because Mrs. van Tuiver is a very dear friend +of mine, and I am concerned about her welfare. It has recently come +to my knowledge that she has become exposed to infection by a venereal +disease." + +He would hardly have started more if I had struck him. "HEY?" he cried, +forgetting his manners. + +"It would not help you any," I said, "if I were to go into details +about this unfortunate matter. Suffice it to say that my information is +positive and precise--that it could hardly be more so." + +There was a long silence. He sat with eyes rivetted upon me. "What is +this disease?" he demanded, at last. + +I named it, and then again there was a pause. "How long has this--this +possibility of infection existed?" + +"Ever since her marriage, nearly eighteen months ago." + +That told him a good part of the story. I felt his look boring me +through. Was I a mad woman? Or some new kind of blackmailer? Or, was +I, possibly, a Claire? I was grateful for my forty-cent bonnet and my +forty-seven years. + +"Naturally," he said at length, "this information startles me." + +"When you have thought it over," I responded, "you will realise that no +possible motive could bring me here but concern for the welfare of my +friend." + +He took a few moments to consider. "That may be true, madame, but let me +add that when you say you KNOW this----" + +He stopped. "I MEAN that I know it," I said, and stopped in turn. + +"Has Mrs. van Tuiver herself any idea of this situation?" + +"None whatever. On the contrary, she was assured before her marriage +that no such possibility existed." + +Again I felt him looking through me, but I left him to make what he +could of my information. "Doctor," I continued, "I presume there is +no need to point out to a man in your position the seriousness of this +matter, both to the mother and to the child." + +"Certainly there is not." + +"I assume that you are familiar with the precautions that have to be +taken with regard to the eyes of the child?" + +"Certainly, madame." This with just a touch of HAUTEUR, and then, +suddenly: "Are you by any chance a nurse?" + +"No," I replied, "but many years ago I was forced by tragedy in my +own family to realise the seriousness of the venereal peril. So when I +learned this fact about my friend, my first thought was that you should +be informed of it. I trust that you will appreciate my position." + +"Certainly, madame, certainly," he made haste to say. "You are quite +right, and you may rest assured that everything will be done that our +best knowledge directs. I only regret that the information did not come +to me sooner." + +"It only came to me about an hour ago," I said, as I rose to leave. "The +blame, therefore, must rest upon another person." + +I needed to say no more. He bowed me politely out, and I walked down +the street, and realised that I was restless and wretched. I wandered +at random for a while, trying to think what else I could do, for my own +peace of mind, if not for Sylvia's welfare. I found myself inventing one +worry after another. Dr. Overton had not said just when he was going, +and suppose she were to need someone at once? Or suppose something were +to happen to him--if he were to be killed upon the long train-journey? I +was like a mother who has had a terrible dream about her child--she must +rush and fling her arms about the child. I realised that I wanted to see +Sylvia! + +She had begged me to come; and I was worn out and had been urged by the +office to take a rest. Suddenly I bolted into a store, and telephoned +the railroad station about trains to Southern Florida. I hailed a +taxi-cab, rode to my home post-haste, and flung a few of my belongings +into a bag and the waiting cab sped with me to the ferry. In little +more than two hours after Claire had told me the dreadful tidings, I was +speeding on my way to Sylvia. + +11. From a train-window I had once beheld a cross-section of America +from West to East; now I beheld another from North to South. In the +afternoon were the farms and country-homes of New Jersey; and then in +the morning endless wastes of wilderness, and straggling fields of +young corn and tobacco; turpentine forests, with half-stripped negroes +working, and a procession of "depots," with lanky men chewing tobacco, +and negroes basking in the blazing sun. Then another night, and there +was the pageant of Florida: palmettos, and other trees of which one had +seen pictures in the geography books; stretches of vine-tangled swamps, +where one looked for alligators; orange-groves in blossom, and gardens +full of flowers beyond imagining. Every hour, of course, it got hotter; +I was not, like Sylvia, used to it, and whenever the train stopped I sat +by the open window, mopping the perspiration from my face. + +We were due at Miami in the afternoon; but there was a freight-train +off the track ahead of us, and so for three hours I sat chafing with +impatience, worrying the conductor with futile questions. I had to make +connections at Miami with a train which ran to the last point on the +mainland, where the construction-work over the keys was going forward. +And if I missed that last train, I would have to wait in Miami till +morning. I had better wait there, anyhow, the conductor argued; but I +insisted that my friends, to whom I had telegraphed two days before, +would meet me with a launch and take me to their place that night. + +We got in half an hour late for the other train; but this was the South, +I discovered, and they had waited for us. I shifted my bag and myself +across the platform, and we moved on. But then another problem arose; we +were running into a storm. It came with great suddenness; one minute +all was still, with a golden sunset, and the next it was so dark that I +could barely see the palm-trees, bent over, swaying madly--like people +with arms stretched out, crying in distress. I could hear the roaring +of the wind above that of the train, and I asked the conductor in +consternation if this could be a hurricane. It was not the season for +hurricanes, he replied; but it was "some storm, all right," and I would +not find any boat to take me to the keys until it was over. + +It was absurd of me to be nervous, I kept telling myself; but there was +something in me that cried out to be there, to be there! I got out +of the train, facing what I refrain from calling a hurricane out of +deference to local authority. It was all I could do to keep from being +blown across the station-platform, and I was drenched with the spray +and bewildered by the roaring of the waves that beat against the pier +beyond. Inside the station, I questioned the agent. The launch of the +van Tuivers had not been in that day; if it had been on the way, it must +have sought shelter somewhere. My telegram to Mrs. van Tuiver had been +received two days before, and delivered by a boatman whom they employed +for that purpose. Presumably, therefore, I would be met. I asked how +long this gale was apt to last; the answer was from one to three days. + +Then I asked about shelter for the night. This was a "jumping-off" +place, said the agent, with barracks and shanties for a +construction-gang; there were saloons, and what was called a hotel, but +it wouldn't do for a lady. I pleaded that I was not fastidious--being +anxious to nullify the effect which the name van Tuiver had produced. +But the agent would have it that the place was unfit for even a Western +farmer's wife; and as I was not anxious to take the chance of being +blown overboard in the darkness, I spent the night on one of the benches +in the station. I lay, listening to the incredible clamour of wind and +waves, feeling the building quiver, and wondering if each gust might not +blow it away. + +I was out at dawn, the force of the wind having abated somewhat by that +time. I saw before me a waste of angry foam-strewn water, with no sign +of any craft upon it. Late in the morning came the big steamer which +ran to Key West, in connection with the railroad; it made a difficult +landing, and I interviewed the captain, with the idea of bribing him to +take me to my destination. But he had his schedule, which neither storms +nor the name of van Tuiver could alter. Besides, he pointed out, he +could not land me at their place, as his vessel drew too much water to +get anywhere near; and if he landed me elsewhere, I should be no better +off, "If your friends are expecting you, they'll come here," he said, +"and their launch can travel when nothing else can." + +To pass the time I went to inspect the viaduct of the railway-to-be. The +first stretch was completed, a long series of concrete arches, running +out, apparently, into the open sea. It was one of the engineering +wonders of the world, but I fear I did not appreciate it. Towards +mid-afternoon I made out a speck of a boat over the water, and my +friend, the station-agent, remarked, "There's your launch." + +I expressed my amazement that they should have ventured out in such +weather. I had had in mind the kind of tiny open craft that one hears +making day and night hideous at summer-resorts; but when the "Merman" +drew near, I realized afresh what it was to be the guest of a +multi-millionaire. She was about fifty feet long, a vision of polished +brass and shining, new-varnished cedar. She rammed her shoulder into the +waves and flung them contemptuously to one side; her cabin was tight, +dry as the saloon of a liner. + +Three men emerged on deck to assist in the difficult process of making a +landing. One of them sprang to the dock, and confronting me, inquired +if I was Mrs. Abbott. He explained that they had set out to meet me the +previous afternoon, but had had to take refuge behind one of the keys. + +"How is Mrs. van Tuiver?" I asked, quickly. + +"She is well." + +"I don't suppose--the baby----" I hinted. + +"No, ma'am, not yet," said the man; and after that I felt interested in +what he had to say about the storm and its effects. We could return at +once, it seemed, if I did not mind being pitched about. + +"How long does it take?" I asked. + +"Three hours, in weather like this. It's about fifty miles." + +"But then it will be dark," I objected. + +"That won't matter, ma'am--we have plenty of light of our own. We shan't +have trouble, unless the wind rises, and there's a chain of keys all the +way, where we can get shelter if it does. The worst you have to fear is +spending a night on board." + +I reflected that I could not well be more uncomfortable than I had been +the previous night, so I voted for a start. There was mail and some +supplies to be put on board; then I made a spring for the deck, as +it surged up towards me on a rising wave, and in a moment more the +cabin-door had shut behind me, and I was safe and snug, in the midst +of leather and mahogany and electric-lighted magnificence. Through the +heavy double windows I saw the dock swing round behind us, and saw the +torrents of green spray sweep over us and past. I grasped at the seat to +keep myself from being thrown forward, and then grasped behind, to keep +from going in that direction. I had a series of sensations as of +an elevator stopping suddenly--and then I draw the curtains of the +"Merman's" cabin, and invite the reader to pass by. This is Sylvia's +story, and not mine, and it is of no interest what happened to me during +that trip. I will only remind the reader that I had lived my life in the +far West, and there were some things I could not have foreseen. + +12. "We are there, ma'am," I heard one of the boatmen say, and I +realised vaguely that the pitching had ceased. He helped me to sit up, +and I saw the search-light of the craft sweeping the shore of an island. +"It passes off 'most as quick as it comes, ma'am," added my supporter, +and for this I murmured feeble thanks. + +We came to a little bay, where the power was shut off, and we glided +towards the shore. There was a boat-house, a sort of miniature dry-dock, +with a gate which closed behind us. I had visions of Sylvia waiting to +meet me, but apparently our arrival had not been noted, and for this I +was grateful. There were seats in the boat-house, and I sank into one, +and asked the man to wait a few minutes while I recovered myself. When I +got up and went to the house, what I found made me quickly forget that I +had such a thing as a body. + +There was a bright moon, I remember, and I could see the long, low +bungalow, with windows gleaming through the palm-trees. A woman's figure +emerged from the house and came down the white shell-path to meet me. My +heart leaped. My beloved! + +But then I saw it was the English maid, whom I had come to know in New +York; I saw, too, that her face was alight with excitement. "Oh, my +lady!" she cried. "The baby's come!" + +It was like a blow in the face. "_What?_" I gasped. + +"Came early this morning. A girl." + +"But--I thought it wasn't till next week!" + +"I know, but it's here. In that terrible storm, when we thought the +house was going to be washed away! Oh, my lady, it's the loveliest +baby!" + +I had presence of mind enough to try to hide my dismay. The +semi-darkness was a fortunate thing for me. "How is the mother?" I +asked. + +"Splendid. She's asleep now." + +"And the child?" + +"Oh! Such a dear you never saw!" + +"And it's all right?" + +"It's just the living image of its mother! You shall see!" + +We moved towards the house, slowly, while I got my thoughts together. +"Dr. Perrin is here?" I asked. + +"Yes. He's gone to his place to sleep." + +"And the nurse?" + +"She's with the child. Come this way." + +We went softly up the steps of the veranda. All the rooms opened upon +it, and we entered one of them, and by the dim-shaded light I saw a +white-clad woman bending over a crib. "Miss Lyman, this is Mrs. Abbott," +said the maid. + +The nurse straightened up. "Oh! so you got here! And just at the right +time!" + +"God grant it may be so!" I thought to myself. "So this is the child!" I +said, and bent over the crib. The nurse turned up the light for me. + +It is the form in which the miracle of life becomes most apparent to us, +and dull indeed must be he who can encounter it without being stirred +to the depths. To see, not merely new life come into the world, but life +which has been made by ourselves, or by those we love--life that is a +mirror and copy of something dear to us! To see this tiny mite of warm +and living flesh, and to see that it was Sylvia! To trace each beloved +lineament, so much alike, and yet so different--half a portrait and +half a caricature, half sublime and half ludicrous! The comical +little imitation of her nose, with each dear little curve, with even +a remainder of the tiny groove underneath the tip, and the tiny +corresponding dimple underneath the chin! The soft silken fuzz which +was some day to be Sylvia's golden glory! The delicate, sensitive lips, +which were some day to quiver with feeling! I gazed at them and saw them +moving, I saw the breast moving--and a wave of emotion swept over me, +and the tears half-blinded me as I knelt. + +But I could not forget the reason for my coming. It meant little that +the child was alive and seemingly well; I was not dealing with a disease +which, like syphilis, starves and deforms in the very womb. The little +one was asleep, but I moved the light so as to examine its eyelids. Then +I turned to the nurse and asked: "Miss Lyman, doesn't it seem to you the +eyelids are a trifle inflamed?" + +"Why, I hadn't noticed it," she answered. + +"Were the eyes washed?" I inquired. + +"I washed the baby, of course--" + +"I mean the eyes especially. The doctor didn't drop anything into them?" + +"I don't think he considered it necessary." + +"It's an important precaution," I replied; "there are always +possibilities of infection." + +"Possibly," said the other. "But you know, we did not expect this. Dr. +Overton was to be here in three or four days." + +"Dr. Perrin is asleep?" I asked. + +"Yes. He was up all last night." + +"I think I will have to ask you to waken him," I said. + +"Is it as serious as that?" she inquired, anxiously, having sensed some +of the emotion I was trying to conceal. + +"It might be very serious," I said. "I really ought to have a talk with +the doctor." + +13. The nurse went out, and I drew up a chair and sat by the crib, +watching the infant go back to sleep. I was glad to be alone, to have a +chance to get myself together. But suddenly I heard a rustle of skirts +in the doorway behind me, and turned and saw a white-clad figure; an +elderly gentlewoman, slender and fragile, grey-haired and rather pale, +wearing a soft dressing-gown. Aunt Varina! + +I rose. "This must be Mrs. Abbott," she said. Oh, these soft, caressing +Southern voices, that cling to each syllable as a lover to a hand at +parting. + +She was a very prim and stately little lady, and I think she did not +intend to shake hands; but I felt pretty certain that under her coating +of formality, she was eager for a chance to rhapsodize. "Oh, what a +lovely child!" I cried; and instantly she melted. + +"You have seen our babe!" she exclaimed; and I could not help smiling. A +few months ago, "the little stranger," and now "our babe"! + +She bent over the cradle, with her dear old sentimental, romantic soul +in her eyes. For a minute or two she quite forgot me; then, looking up, +she murmured, "It is as wonderful to me as if it were my own!" + +"All of us who love Sylvia feel that," I responded. + +She rose, and suddenly remembering hospitality, asked me as to my +present needs. Then she said, "I must go and see to sending some +telegrams." + +"Telegrams?" I inquired. + +"Yes. Think what this news will mean to dear Douglas! And to Major +Castleman!" + +"You haven't informed them?" + +"We couldn't send any smaller boat on account of the storm. We must +telegraph Dr. Overton also, you understand." + +"To tell him not to come?" I ventured. "But don't you think, Mrs. Tuis, +that he may wish to come anyhow?" + +"Why should he wish that?" + +"I'm not sure, but--I think he might." How I longed for a little of +Sylvia's skill in social lying! "Every newly-born infant ought to be +examined by a specialist, you know; there may be a particular _rgime,_ +a diet for the mother--one cannot say." + +"Dr. Perrin didn't consider it necessary." + +"I am going to have a talk with Dr. Perrin at once," I said. + +I saw a troubled look in her eyes. "You don't mean you think there's +anything the matter?" + +"No--no," I lied. "But I'm sure you ought to wait before you have the +launch go. Please do." + +"If you insist," she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just +a touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and +one--well, possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the +ones that came were: "Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting." + +I was too polite to offer the suggestion that "dear Douglas" might be +finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching +on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor. + +14. "How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?" said Dr. Perrin. He was in his +dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, +but he replied, "It's pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two +new faces!" + +That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of +sleep. I tried to meet his mood. "Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells +me that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won't mind +regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I've had +to help bring others into the world." + +"All right," he smiled. "We'll consider you qualified. What is the +matter?" + +"I wanted to ask you about the child's eyes. It is a wise precaution +to drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible +infection." + +I waited for my answer. "There have been no signs of any sort of +infection in this case," he said, at last. + +"Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You +have not taken the precaution?" + +"No, madam." + +"You have some of the drug, of course?" + +Again there was a pause. "No, madam, I fear that I have not." + +I winced, involuntarily. I could not hide my distress. "Dr. Perrin," I +exclaimed, "you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to +provide something so essential!" + +There was nothing left of the little man's affability now. "In the first +place," he said, "I must remind you that I did not come to attend a +confinement case. I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver's condition up +_to_ the time of confinement." + +"But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!" + +"Yes, to be sure." + +"And you didn't have any nitrate of silver!" + +"Madam," he said, stiffly, "there is no use for this drug except in one +contingency." + +"I know," I cried, "but it is an important precaution. It is the +practice to use it in all maternity hospitals." + +"Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what +the practice is." + +So there we were, at a deadlock. There was silence for a space. + +"Would you mind sending for the drug?" I asked, at last. + +"I presume," he said, with _hauteur,_ "it will do no harm to have it on +hand." + +I was aware of an elderly lady watching us, with consternation written +upon every sentimental feature. "Dr. Perrin," I said, "if Mrs. Tuis will +pardon me, I think I ought to speak with you alone." The nurse hastily +withdrew; and I saw the elderly lady draw herself up with terrible +dignity--and then suddenly quail, and turn and follow the nurse. + +I told the little man what I knew. After he had had time to get over +his consternation, he said that fortunately there did not seem to be any +sign of trouble. + +"There does seem so to me," I replied. "It may be only my imagination, +but I think the eyelids are inflamed." + +I held the baby for him, while he made an examination. He admitted that +there seemed to be ground for uneasiness. His professional dignity was +now gone, and he was only too glad to be human. + +"Dr. Perrin," I said, "there is only one thing we can do--to get some +nitrate of silver at the earliest possible moment. Fortunately, the +launch is here." + +"I will have it start at once," he said. "It will have to go to Key +West." + +"And how long will that take?" + +"It depends upon the sea. In good weather it takes us eight hours to go +and return." I could not repress a shudder. The child might be blind in +eight hours! + +But there was no time to be wasted in foreboding. "About Dr. Overton," +I said. "Don't you think he had better come?" But I ventured to add the +hint that Mr. van Tuiver would hardly wish expense to be considered in +such an emergency; and in the end, I persuaded the doctor not merely +to telegraph for the great surgeon, but to ask a hospital in Atlanta to +send the nearest eye-specialist by the first train. + +We called back Mrs. Tuis, and I apologized abjectly for my presumption, +and Dr. Perrin announced that he thought he ought to see Dr. Overton, +and another doctor as well. I saw fear leap into Aunt Varina's eyes. +"Oh, what is it?" she cried. "What is the matter with our babe?" + +I helped the doctor to answer polite nothings to all her questions. "Oh, +the poor, dear lady!" I thought to myself. The poor, dear lady! What a +tearing away of veils and sentimental bandages was written in her book +of fate for that night! + +15. I find myself lingering over these preliminaries, dreading the +plunge into the rest of my story. We spent our time hovering over the +child's crib, and in two or three hours the little eyelids had become so +inflamed that there could no longer be any doubt what was happening. We +applied alternate hot and cold cloths; we washed the eyes in a solution +of boric acid, and later, in our desperation, with bluestone. But we +were dealing with the virulent gonococcus, and we neither expected nor +obtained much result from these measures. In a couple of hours more the +eyes were beginning to exude pus, and the poor infant was wailing in +torment. + +"Oh, what can it be? Tell me what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Tuis. She +sought to catch the child in her arms, and when I quickly prevented her, +she turned upon me in anger. "What do you mean?" + +"The child must be quiet," I said. + +"But I wish to comfort it!" And when I still insisted, she burst out +wildly: "What _right_ have you?" + +"Mrs. Tuis," I said, gently, "it is possible the infant may have a very +serious infection. If so, you would be apt to catch it." + +She answered with a hysterical cry: "My precious innocent! Do you think +that I would be afraid of anything it could have?" + +"You may not be afraid, but we are. We should have to take care of you, +and one case is more than enough." + +Suddenly she clutched me by the arm. "Tell me what this awful thing is! +I demand to know!" + +"Mrs. Tuis," said the doctor, interfering, "we are not yet sure what the +trouble is, we only wish to take precautions. It is really imperative +that you should not handle this child or even go near it. There is +nothing you can possibly do." + +She was willing to take orders from him; he spoke the same dialect +as herself, and with the same quaint stateliness. A charming little +Southern gentleman--I could realise how Douglas van Tuiver had "picked +him out for his social qualities." In the old-fashioned Southern medical +college where he had got his training, I suppose they had taught him the +old-fashioned idea of gonorrhea. Now he was acquiring our extravagant +modern notions in the grim school of experience! + +It was necessary to put the nurse on her guard as to the risks we were +running. We should have had concave glasses to protect our eyes, and we +spent part of our time washing our hands in bichloride solution. + +"Mrs. Abbott, what is it?" whispered the woman. + +"It has a long name," I replied--"_opthalmia neonatorum._" + +"And what has caused it?" + +"The original cause," I responded, "is a man." I was not sure if that +was according to the ethics of the situation, but the words came. + +Before long the infected eye-sockets were two red and yellow masses of +inflammation, and the infant was screaming like one of the damned. We +had to bind up its eyes; I was tempted to ask the doctor to give it an +opiate for fear lest it should scream itself into convulsions. Then +as poor Mrs. Tuis was pacing the floor, wringing her hands and sobbing +hysterically, Dr. Perrin took me to one side and said: "I think she will +have to be told." + +The poor, poor lady! + +"She might as well understand now as later," he continued. "She will +have to help keep the situation from the mother." + +"Yes," I said, faintly; and then, "Who shall tell her?" + +"I think," suggested the doctor, "she might prefer to be told by a +woman." + +So I shut my lips together and took the distracted lady gently by +the arm and led her to the door. We stole like two criminals down the +veranda, and along the path to the beach, and near the boathouse we +stopped, and I began. + +"Mrs. Tuis, you may remember a circumstance which your niece mentioned +to me--that just before her marriage she urged you to have certain +inquiries made as to Mr. van Tuiver's health, his fitness for marriage?" + +Never shall I forget her face at that moment. "Sylvia told you that!" + +"The inquiries were made," I went on, "but not carefully enough, it +seems. Now you behold the consequence of this negligence." + +I saw her blank stare. I added: "The one to pay for it is the child." + +"You--you mean--" she stammered, her voice hardly a whisper. "Oh--it is +impossible!" Then, with a flare of indignation: "Do you realise what you +are implying--that Mr. van Tuiver--" + +"There is no question of implying," I said, quietly. "It is the facts we +have to face now, and you will have to help us to face them." + +She cowered and swayed before me, hiding her face in her hands. I heard +her sobbing and murmuring incoherent cries to her god. I took the poor +lady's hand, and bore with her as long as I could, until, being at the +end of my patience with prudery and purity and chivalry, and all the +rest of the highfalutin romanticism of the South, I said: "Mrs Tuis, it +is necessary that you should get yourself together. You have a serious +duty before you--that you owe both to Sylvia and her child." + +"What is it?" she whispered. The word "duty" had motive power for her. + +"At all hazards, Sylvia must be kept in ignorance of the calamity for +the present. If she were to learn of it it would quite possibly throw +her into a fever, and cost her life or the child's. You must not make +any sound that she can hear, and you must not go near her until you have +completely mastered your emotions." + +"Very well," she murmured. She was really a brave little body, but I, +not knowing her, and thinking only of the peril, was cruel in hammering +things into her consciousness. Finally, I left her, seated upon the +steps of the deserted boat-house, rocking back and forth and sobbing +softly to herself--one of the most pitiful figures it has ever been my +fortune to encounter in my pilgrimage through a world of sentimentality +and incompetence. + +16. I went back to the house, and because we feared the sounds of the +infant's crying might carry, we hung blankets before the doors and +windows of the room, and sat in the hot enclosure, shuddering, silent, +grey with fear. After an hour or two, Mrs. Tuis rejoined us, stealing in +and seating herself at one side of the room, staring from one to another +of us with wide eyes of fright. + +By the time the first signs of dawn appeared, the infant had cried +itself into a state of exhaustion. The faint light that got into the +room revealed the three of us, listening to the pitiful whimpering. I +was faint with weakness, but I had to make an effort and face the worst +ordeal of all. There came a tapping at the door--the maid, to say that +Sylvia was awake and had heard of my arrival and wished to see me. I +might have put off our meeting for a while, on the plea of exhaustion, +but I preferred to have it over with, and braced myself and went slowly +to her room. + +In the doorway I paused for an instant to gaze at her. She was +exquisite, lying there with the flush of sleep still upon her, and the +ecstasy of her great achievement in her face. I fled to her, and we +caught each other in our arms. "Oh, Mary, Mary! I'm so glad you've +come!" And then: "Oh, Mary, isn't it the loveliest baby!" + +"Perfectly glorious!" I exclaimed. + +"Oh, I'm so happy--so happy as I never dreamed! I've no words to tell +you about it." + +"You don't need any words--I've been through it," I said. + +"Oh, but she's so _beautiful!_ Tell me, honestly, isn't that really so?" + +"My dear," I said, "she is like you." + +"Mary," she went on, half whispering, "I think it solves all my +problems--all that I wrote you about. I don't believe I shall ever +be unhappy again. I can't believe that such a thing has really +happened--that I've been given such a treasure. And she's my own! I can +watch her little body grow and help to make it strong and beautiful! I +can help mould her little mind--see it opening up, one chamber of wonder +after another! I can teach her all the things I have had to grope so to +get!" + +"Yes," I said, trying to speak with conviction. I added, hastily: "I'm +glad you don't find motherhood disappointing." + +"Oh, it's a miracle!" she exclaimed. "A woman who could be dissatisfied +with anything afterwards would be an ingrate!" She paused, then added: +"Mary, now she's here in flesh, I feel she'll be a bond between Douglas +and me. He must see her rights, her claim upon life, as he couldn't see +mine." + +I assented gravely. So that was the thing she was thinking most about--a +bond between her husband and herself! A moment later the nurse appeared +in the doorway, and Sylvia set up a cry: "My baby! Where's my baby? I +want to see my baby!" + +"Sylvia, dear," I said, "there's something about the baby that has to be +explained." + +Instantly she was alert. "What is the matter?" + +I laughed. "Nothing, dear, that amounts to anything. But the little +one's eyes are inflamed--that is to say, the lids. It's something that +happens to newly-born infants." + +"Well, then?" she said. + +"Nothing, only the doctor's had to put some salve on them, and they +don't look very pretty." + +"I don't mind that, if it's all right." + +"But we've had to put a bandage over them, and it looks forbidding. Also +the child is apt to cry." + +"I must see her at once!" she exclaimed. + +"Just now she's asleep, so don't make us disturb her." + +"But how long will this last?" + +"Not very long. Meantime you must be sensible and not mind. It's +something I made the doctor do, and you mustn't blame me, or I'll be +sorry I came to you." + +"You dear thing," she said, and put her hand in mine. And then, +suddenly: "Why did you take it into your head to come, all of a sudden?" + +"Don't ask me," I smiled. "I have no excuse. I just got homesick and had +to see you." + +"It's perfectly wonderful that you should be here now," she declared. +"But you look badly. Are you tired?" + +"Yes, dear," I said. (Such a difficult person to deceive!) "To tell the +truth, I'm pretty nearly done up. You see, I was caught in the storm, +and I was desperately sea-sick." + +"Why, you poor dear! Why didn't you go to sleep?" + +"I didn't want to sleep. I was too much excited by everything. I came to +see one Sylvia and I found two!" + +"Isn't it absurd," she cried, "how she looks like me? Oh, I want to see +her again. How long will it be before I can have her?" + +"My dear," I said, "you mustn't worry--" + +"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just playing. I'm so happy, I want to squeeze +her in my arms all the time. Just think, Mary, they won't let me nurse +her, yet--a whole day now! Can that be right?" + +"Nature will take care of that," I said. + +"Yes, but how can you be sure what Nature means? Maybe it's what the +child is crying about, and it's the crying that makes its eyes red." + +I felt a sudden spasm grip my heart. "No, dear, no," I said, hastily. +"You must let Dr. Perrin attend to these things, for I've just had +to interfere with his arrangements, and he'll be getting cross pretty +soon." + +"Oh," she cried with laughter in her eyes, "you've had a scene with him? +I knew you would! He's so quaint and old-fashioned!" + +"Yes," I said, "and he talks exactly like your aunt." + +"Oh! You've met her too! I'm missing all the fun!" + +I had a sudden inspiration--one that I was proud of. "My dear girl," I +said, "maybe _you_ call it fun!" And I looked really agitated. + +"Why, what's the matter?" she cried. + +"What could you expect?" I asked. "I fear, my dear Sylvia, I've shocked +your aunt beyond all hope." + +"What have you done?" + +"I've talked about things I'd no business to--I've bossed the learned +doctor--and I'm sure Aunt Varina has guessed I'm not a lady." + +"Oh, tell me about it!" cried Sylvia, full of delight. + +But I could not keep up the game any longer. "Not now, dear," I said. +"It's a long story, and I really am exhausted. I must go and get some +rest." + +I rose, and she caught my hand, whispering: "I shall be happy, Mary! I +shall be really happy now!" And then I turned and fled, and when I was +out of sight of the doorway, I literally ran. At the other end of the +veranda I sank down upon the steps, and wept softly to myself. + +17. The launch arrived, bringing the nitrate of silver. A solution was +dropped into the baby's eyes, and then we could do nothing but wait. I +might have lain down and really tried to rest; but the maid came again, +with the announcement that Sylvia was asking for her aunt. Excuses would +have tended to excite her suspicions; so poor Mrs. Tuis had to take her +turn at facing the ordeal, and I had to drill and coach her for it. +I had a vision of the poor lady going in to her niece, and suddenly +collapsing. Then there would begin a cross-examination, and Sylvia would +worm out the truth, and we might have a case of puerperal fever on our +hands. + +This I explained afresh to Mrs. Tuis, having taken her into her own room +and closed the door for that purpose. She clutched me with her shaking +hands and whispered, "Oh, Mrs. Abbott, you will _never_ let Sylvia find +out what caused this trouble?" + +I drew on my reserve supply of patience, and answered, "What I shall +let her find out in the end, I don't know. We shall be guided by +circumstances, and this is no time to discuss the matter. The point is +now to make sure that you can go in and stay with her, and not let her +get an idea there's anything wrong." + +"Oh, but you know how Sylvia reads people!" she cried, in sudden dismay. + +"I've fixed it for you," I said. "I've provided something you can be +agitated about." + +"What is that?" + +"It's _me._" Then, seeing her look of bewilderment, "You must tell +her that I've affronted you, Mrs. Tuis; I've outraged your sense of +propriety. You're indignant with me and you don't see how you can remain +in the house with me--" + +"Why, Mrs. Abbott!" she exclaimed, in horror. + +"You know it's truth to some extent," I said. + +The good lady drew herself up. "Mrs. Abbott, don't tell me that I have +been so rude--" + +"Dear Mrs. Tuis," I laughed, "don't stop to apologize just now. You have +not been lacking in courtesy, but I know how I must seem to you. I am +a Socialist. I have a raw, Western accent, and my hands are big--I've +lived on a farm all my life, and done my own work, and even plowed +sometimes. I have no idea of the charms and graces of life that are +everything to you. What is more than that, I am forward, and thrust my +opinions upon other people--" + +She simply could not hear me. She was a-tremble with a new excitement. +Worse even than _opthalmia neonatorum_ was plain speaking to a guest! +"Mrs. Abbott, you humiliate me!" + +Then I spoke harshly, seeing that I would actually have to shock her. +"I assure you, Mrs. Tuis, that if you don't feel that way about me, it's +simply because you don't know the truth. It is not possible that you +would consider me a proper person to visit Sylvia. I don't believe in +your religion; I don't believe in anything that you would call religion, +and I argue about it at the least provocation. I deliver violent +harangues on street-corners, and have been arrested during a strike. +I believe in woman's suffrage, I even argue in approval of +window-smashing. I believe that women ought to earn their own living, +and be independent and free from any man's control. I am a divorced +woman--I left my husband because I wasn't happy with him, what's more, +I believe that any woman has a right to do the same--I'm liable to teach +such ideas to Sylvia, and to urge her to follow them." + +The poor lady's eyes were wide and large. "So you see," I exclaimed, +"you really couldn't approve of me! Tell her all this; she knows it +already, but she will be horrified, because I have let you and the +doctor find it out!" + +Whereupon Mrs. Tuis started to ascend the pedestal of her dignity. "Mrs. +Abbott, this may be your idea of a jest----" + +"Now come," I cried, "let me help you fix your hair, and put on just a +wee bit of powder--not enough to be noticed, you understand----" + +I took her to the wash-stand, and poured out some cold water for her, +and saw her bathe her eyes and face, and dry them, and braid her thin +grey hair. While with a powder puff I was trying deftly to conceal the +ravages of the night's crying, the dear lady turned to me, and whispered +in a trembling voice, "Mrs. Abbott, you really don't mean that dreadful +thing you said just now?" + +"Which dreadful thing, Mrs. Tuis?" + +"That you would tell Sylvia it could possibly be right for her to leave +her husband?" + +18. In the course of the day we received word that Dr. Gibson, the +specialist for whom we had telegraphed, was on his way. The boat which +brought his message took back a letter from Dr. Perrin to Douglas van +Tuiver, acquainting him with the calamity which had befallen. We +had talked it over and agreed that there was nothing to be gained by +telegraphing the information. We did not wish any hint of the child's +illness to leak into the newspapers. + +I did not envy the great man the hour when he read that letter; although +I knew that the doctor had not failed to assure him that the victim of +his misdeeds should be kept in ignorance. Already the little man +had begun to drop hints to me on this subject. Unfortunate accidents +happened, which were not always to be blamed upon the husband, nor was +it a thing to contemplate lightly, the breaking up of a family. I gave +a non-committal answer, and changed the subject by asking the doctor +not to mention my presence in the household. If by any chance van Tuiver +were to carry his sorrows to Claire, I did not want my name brought up. + +We managed to prevent Sylvia's seeing the child that day and night, and +the next morning came the specialist. He held out no hope of saving any +remnant of the sight, but the child might be so fortunate as to escape +disfigurement--it did not appear that the eyeballs were destroyed, as +happens generally in these cases. This bit of consolation I still have: +that little Elaine, who sits by me as I write, has left in her pupils a +faint trace of the soft red-brown--just enough to remind us of what we +have lost, and keep fresh in our minds the memory of these sorrows. If +I wish to see what her eyes might have been, I look above my head to the +portrait of Sylvia's noble ancestress, a copy made by a "tramp artist" +in Castleman County, and left with me by Sylvia. + +There was the question of the care of the mother--the efforts to stay +the ravages of the germ in the tissues broken and weakened by the strain +of child-birth. We had to invent excuses for the presence of the new +doctor--and yet others for the presence of Dr. Overton, who came a day +later. And then the problem of the nourishing of the child. It would +be a calamity to have to put it upon the bottle, but on the other +hand, there were many precautions necessary to keep the infection from +spreading. + +I remember vividly the first time that the infant was fed: all of us +gathered round, with matter-of-course professional air, as if these +elaborate hygienic ceremonies were the universal custom when newly-born +infants first taste their mothers' milk. Standing in the background, I +saw Sylvia start with dismay, as she noted how pale and thin the poor +little one had become. It was hunger that caused the whimpering, so the +nurse declared, busying herself in the meantime to keep the tiny +hands from the mother's face. The latter sank back and closed her +eyes--nothing, it seemed, could prevail over the ecstasy of that first +marvellous sensation, but afterwards she asked that I might stay with +her, and as soon as the others were gone, she unmasked the batteries +of her suspicion upon me. "Mary! What in the world has happened to my +baby?" + +So began a new stage in the campaign of lying. "It's nothing, nothing. +Just some infection. It happens frequently." + +"But what is the cause of it?" + +"We can't tell. It may be a dozen things. There are so many possible +sources of infection about a birth. It's not a very sanitary thing, you +know." + +"Mary! Look me in the face!" + +"Yes, dear?" + +"You're not deceiving me?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"I mean--it's not really something serious? All these doctors--this +mystery--this vagueness!" + +"It was your husband, my dear Sylvia, who sent the doctors--it was +his stupid man's way of being attentive." (This at Aunt Varina's +suggestion--the very subtle lady!). + +"Mary, I'm worried. My baby looks so badly, and I feel something is +wrong." + +"My dear Sylvia," I chided, "if you worry about it you will simply be +harming the child. Your milk may go wrong." + +"Oh, that's just it! That's why you would not tell me the truth!" + +We persuade ourselves that there are certain circumstances under which +lying is necessary, but always when we come to the lies we find them +an insult to the soul. Each day I perceived that I was getting in +deeper--and each day I watched Aunt Varina and the doctor busied to push +me deeper yet. + +There had come a telegram from Douglas van Tuiver to Dr. Perrin, +revealing the matter which stood first in that gentleman's mind. +"I expect no failure in your supply of the necessary tact." By this +vagueness we perceived that he too was trusting no secrets to telegraph +operators. Yet for us it was explicit and illuminative. It recalled the +tone of quiet authority I had noted in his dealings with his chauffeur, +and it sent me off by myself for a while to shake my fist at all +husbands. + +19. Mrs. Tuis, of course, had no need of any warning from the head +of the house. The voice of her ancestors guided her in all such +emergencies. The dear lady had got to know me quite well, at the more or +less continuous dramatic rehearsals we conducted; and now and then her +trembling hands would seek to fasten me in the chains of decency. "Mrs. +Abbott, think what a scandal there would be if Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver +were to break with her husband!" + +"Yes, my dear Mrs. Tuis-but on the other hand, think what might happen +if she were kept in ignorance in this matter. She might bear another +child." + +I got a new realization of the chasms that lay between us. "Who are we," +she whispered, "to interfere in these sacred matters? It is of souls, +Mrs. Abbot, and not bodies, that the Kingdom of Heaven is made." + +I took a minute or so to get my breath, and then I said, "What generally +happens in these cases is that God afflicts the woman with permanent +barrenness." + +The old lady bowed her head, and I saw the tears falling into her lap. +"My poor Sylvia!" she moaned, only half aloud. + +There was a silence; I too almost wept. And finally, Aunt Varina +looked up at me, her faded eyes full of pleading. "It is hard for me to +understand such ideas as yours. You must tell me-can you really believe +that it would help Sylvia to know this-this dreadful secret?" + +"It would help her in many ways," I said. "She will be more careful of +her health-she will follow the doctor's orders---" + +How quickly came the reply! "I will stay with her, and see that she does +that! I will be with her day and night." + +"But are you going to keep the secret from those who attend her? Her +maid--the child's nurses--everyone who might by any chance use the same +towel, or a wash-basin, or a drinking-glass?" + +"Surely you exaggerate the danger! If that were true, more people would +meet with these accidents!" + +"The doctors," I said, "estimate that about ten per cent. of cases of +this disease are innocently acquired." + +"Oh, these modern doctors!" she cried. "I never heard of such ideas!" + +I could not help smiling. "My dear Mrs. Tuis, what do you imagine you +know about the prevalence of gonorrhea? Consider just one fact--that I +heard a college professor state publicly that in his opinion eighty-five +per cent. of the men students at his university were infected with some +venereal disease. And that is the pick of our young manhood--the sons of +our aristocracy!" + +"Oh, that can't be!" she exclaimed. "People would know of it! + +"Who are 'people'? The boys in your family know of it--if you could get +them to tell you. My two sons studied at a State university, and they +would bring me home what they heard--the gossip, the slang, the +horrible obscenity. Fourteen fellows in one dormitory using the same +bathroom--and on the wall you saw a row of fourteen syringes! And they +told that on themselves, it was the joke of the campus. They call the +disease a 'dose'; and a man's not supposed to be worthy the respect +of his fellows until he's had his 'dose'--the sensible thing is to get +several, till he can't get any more. They think it's 'no worse than a +bad cold'; that's the idea they get from the 'clap-doctors,' and the +women of the street who educate our sons in sex matters." + +"Oh, spare me, spare me!" cried Mrs. Tuis. "I beg you not to force these +horrible details upon me!" + +"That is what is going on among our boys," I said. "The Castleman boys, +the Chilton boys! It's going on in every fraternity house, every 'prep +school' dormitory in America. And the parents refuse to know, just as +you do!" + +"But what could I possibly do, Mrs. Abbott?" + +"I don't know, Mrs. Tuis. What _I_ am going to do is to teach the young +girls." + +She whispered, aghast, "You would rob the young girls of their +innocence. Why, with their souls full of these ideas their faces would +soon be as hard--oh, you horrify me!" + +"My daughter's face is not hard," I said. "And I taught her. Stop and +think, Mrs. Tuis--ten thousand blind children every year! A hundred +thousand women under the surgeon's knife! Millions of women going to +pieces with slowly creeping diseases of which they never hear the names! +I say, let us cry this from the housetops, until every woman knows--and +until every man knows that she knows, and that unless he can prove that +he is clean he will lose her! That is the remedy, Mrs. Tuis!" + +Poor dear lady! I got up and went away, leaving her there, with clenched +hands and trembling lips. I suppose I seemed to her like the mad women +who were just then rising up to horrify the respectability of England--a +phenomenon of Nature too portentous to be comprehended, or even to be +contemplated, by a gentlewoman of the South! + +20. There came in due course a couple of letters from Douglas van +Tuiver. The one to Aunt Varina, which was shown to me, was vague and +cautious--as if the writer were uncertain how much this worthy lady +knew. He merely mentioned that Sylvia was to be spared every particle +of "painful knowledge." He would wait in great anxiety, but he would not +come, because any change in his plans might set her to questioning. + +The letter to Dr. Perrin was not shown to me; but I judged that it must +have contained more strenuous injunctions. Or had Aunt Varina by any +chance got up the courage to warn the young doctor against me? His +hints, at any rate, became more pointed. He desired me to realize how +awkward it would be for him, if Sylvia were to learn the truth; it would +be impossible to convince Mr. van Tuiver that this knowledge had not +come from the physician in charge. + +"But, Dr. Perrin," I objected, "it was I who brought the information to +you! And Mr. van Tuiver knows that I am a radical woman; he would not +expect me to be ignorant of such matters." + +"Mrs. Abbott," was the response, "it is a grave matter to destroy the +possibility of happiness of a young married couple." + +However I might dispute his theories, in practice I was doing what he +asked. But each day I was finding the task more difficult; each day it +became more apparent that Sylvia was ceasing to believe me. I realized +at last, with a sickening kind of fright, that she knew I was hiding +something from her. Because she knew me, and knew that I would not do +such a thing lightly, she was terrified. She would lie there, gazing +at me, with a dumb fear in her eyes--and I would go on asseverating +blindly, like an unsuccessful actor before a jeering audience. + +A dozen times she made an effort to break through the barricade of +falsehood; and a dozen times I drove her back, all but crying to her, +"No, No! Don't ask me!" Until at last, late one night, she caught my +hand and clung to it in a grip I could not break. "Mary! Mary! You must +tell me the _truth!_" + +"Dear girl--" I began. + +"Listen!" she cried. "I know you are deceiving me! I know why--because +I'll make myself ill. But it won't do any longer; it's preying on me, +Mary--I've taken to imagining things. So you must tell me the truth!" + +I sat, avoiding her eyes, beaten; and in the pause I could feel her +hands shaking. "Mary, what is it? Is my baby going to die?" + +"No, dear, indeed no!" I cried. + +"Then what?" + +"Sylvia," I began, as quietly as I could, "the truth is not as bad as +you imagine--" + +"Tell me what it is!" + +"But it is bad, Sylvia. And you must be brave. You must be, for your +baby's sake." + +"Make haste!" she cried. + +"The baby," I said, "may be blind." + +"Blind!" There we sat, gazing into each other's eyes, like two statues +of women. But the grasp of her hand tightened, until even my big fist +was hurt. "Blind!" she whispered again. + +"Sylvia," I rushed on, "it isn't so bad as it might be! Think--if you +had lost her altogether!" + +"_Blind!_" + +"You will have her always; and you can do things for her--take care of +her. They do wonders for the blind nowadays--and you have the means; to +do everything. Really, you know, blind children are not unhappy--some of +them are happier than other children, I think. They haven't so much to +miss. Think--" + +"Wait, wait," she whispered; and again there was silence, and I clung to +her cold hands. + +"Sylvia," I said, at last, "you have a newly-born infant to nurse, and +its very life depends upon your health now. You cannot let yourself +grieve." + +"No," she responded. "No. But, Mary, what caused this?" + +So there was the end of my spell of truth-telling. "I don't know, dear. +Nobody knows. There might be a thousand things--" + +"Was it born blind?" + +"No." + +"Then was it the doctor's fault?" + +"No, it was nobody's fault. Think of the thousands and tens of thousands +of babies that become blind! It's a dreadful accident that happens." So +I went on--possessed with a dread that had been with me for days, that +had kept me awake for hours in the night: Had I, in any of my talks with +Sylvia about venereal disease, mentioned blindness in infants as one +of the consequences? I could not rememher; but now was the time I would +find out! + +She lay there, immovable, like a woman who had died in grief; until at +last I flung my arms about her and whispered, "Sylvia! Sylvia! Please +cry!" + +"I can't cry!" she whispered, and her voice sounded hard. + +So, after a space, I said, "Then, dear, I think I will have to make you +laugh." + +"Laugh, Mary?" + +"Yes-I will tell you about the quarrel between Aunt Varina and myself. +You know what times we've been having-how I shocked the poor lady?" + +She was looking at me, but her eyes were not seeing me. "Yes, Mary," she +said, in the same dead tone. + +"Well, that was a game we made for you. It was very funny!" + +"Funny?" + +"Yes! Because I really did shock her-though we started out just to give +you something else to think about!" + +And then suddenly I saw the healing tears begin to come. She could not +weep for her own grief-but she could weep because of what she knew we +two had had to suffer for her! + +21. I went out and told the others what I had done; and Mrs. Tuis +rushed in to her niece and they wept in each other's arms, and Mrs. Tuis +explained all the mysteries of life by her formula, "the will of the +Lord." + +Later on came Dr. Perrin, and it was touching to see how Sylvia treated +him. She had, it appeared, conceived the idea that the calamity must be +due to some blunder on his part, and then she had reflected that he was +young, and that chance had thrown upon him a responsibility for which he +had not bargained. He must be reproaching himself bitterly, so she had +to persuade him that it was really not so bad as we were making it-that +a blind child was a great joy to a mother's soul-in some ways even a +greater joy than a perfectly sound child, because it appealed so to +her protective instinct! I had called Sylvia a shameless payer of +compliments, and now I went away by myself and wept. + +Yet it was true in a way. When the infant was brought in to be nursed +again, how she clung to it, a very picture of the sheltering and +protecting instinct of motherhood! She knew the worst now--her mind was +free, and she could partake of what happiness was allowed her. The child +was hers to love and care for, and she would find ways to atone to it +for the harshness of fate. + +So little by little we got our existence upon a working basis. We lived +a peaceful, routine life, to the music of cocoanut-palms rustling in the +warm breezes which blew incessantly off the Mexican Gulf. Aunt Varina +had, for the time, her undisputed way with the family; her niece +reclined upon the veranda in true Southern lady fashion, and was read +aloud to from books of indisputable respectability. I remember Aunt +Varina selected the "Idylls of the King," and they two were in a mood +to shed tears over these solemn, sorrowful tales. So it came that the +little one got her name, after a pale and unhappy heroine. + +I remember the long discussions of this point, the family-lore which +Aunt Varina brought forth. It did not seem to her quite the thing to +call a blind child after a member of one's family. Something strange, +romantic, wistful--yes, Elaine was the name! Mrs. Tuis, it transpired, +had already baptised the infant, in the midst of the agonies and alarms +of its illness. She had called it "Sylvia," and now she was tremulously +uncertain whether this counted--whether perhaps the higher powers might +object to having to alter their records. But in the end a clergyman +came out from Key West and heard Aunt Varina's confession, and gravely +concluded that the error might be corrected by a formal ceremony. How +strange it all seemed to me--being carried back two or three hundred +years in the world's history! But I gave no sign of what was going on in +my rebellious mind. + +22. Dr. Overton on his return to New York, sent a special nurse to take +charge of Sylvia's case. There was also an infant's nurse, and both had +been taken into the doctor's confidence. So now there was an elaborate +conspiracy--no less than five women and two men, all occupied in keeping +a secret from Sylvia. It was a thing so contrary to my convictions that +I was never free from the burden of it for a moment. Was it my duty to +tell her? + +Dr. Perrin no longer referred to the matter--I realised that both he and +Dr. Gibson considered the matter settled. Was it conceivable that anyone +of sound mind could set out, deliberately and in cold blood, to betray +such a secret? But I had maintained all my life the right of woman to +know the truth, and was I to back down now, at the first test of my +convictions? + +When the news reached Douglas van Tuiver that his wife had been informed +of the infant's blindness, there came a telegram saying that he was +coming. There was much excitement, of course, and Aunt Varina came to +me, in an attempt to secure a definite pledge of silence. When I refused +it, Dr. Perrin came again, and we fought the matter over for the better +part of a day and night. + +He was a polite little gentleman, and he did not tell me that my views +were those of a fanatic, but he said that no woman could see things in +their true proportion, because of her necessary ignorance concerning the +nature of men, and the temptations to which they were exposed. I replied +that I believed I understood these matters thoroughly, and I went on, +quite simply and honestly, to make clear to him that this was so. In +the end my pathetically chivalrous little Southern gentleman admitted +everything I asked. Yes, it was true that these evils were ghastly, and +that they were increasing, and that women were the worst sufferers from +men. There might even be something in my idea that the older women +of the community should devote themselves to this service, making +themselves race-mothers, and helping, not merely in their homes, but in +the schools and churches, to protect and save the future generations. +But all that was in the future, he argued, while here was a case which +had gone so far that "letting in the light" could only blast the life +of two people, making it impossible for a young mother ever again to +tolerate the father of her child. I argued that Sylvia was not of the +hysterical type, but I could not make him agree that it was possible to +predict what the attitude of any woman would be. His ideas were based on +one peculiar experience he had had--a woman patient who had said to him: +"Doctor, I know what is the matter with me, but for God's sake don't +let my husband find out that I know, because then I should feel that my +self-respect required me to leave him!" + +23. The Master-of-the-House was coming! You could feel the quiver of +excitement in the air of the place. The boatmen were polishing the +brasses of the launch; the yard-man was raking up the dry strips of palm +from beneath the cocoanut trees; Aunt Varina was ordering new supplies, +and entering into conspiracies with the cook. The nurses asked me +timidly, what was He like, and even Dr. Gibson, a testy old gentleman +who had clashed violently with me on the subject of woman's suffrage, +and had avoided me ever since as a suspicious character, now came and +confided his troubles. He had sent home for a trunk, and the graceless +express companies had sent it astray. Now he was wondering if it was +necessary for him to journey to Key West and have a suit of dinner +clothes made over night. I told him that I had not sent for any +party-dresses, and that I expected to meet Mr. Douglas van Tuiver at +his dinner-table in plain white linen. His surprise was so great that I +suspected the old gentleman of having wondered whether I meant to retire +to a "second-table" when the Master-of-the-House arrived. + +I went away by myself, seething with wrath. Who was this great one whom +we honoured? Was he an inspired poet, a maker of laws, a discoverer +of truth? He was the owner of an indefinite number of millions of +dollars--that was all, and yet I was expected, because of my awe of him, +to abandon the cherished convictions of my lifetime. The situation +was one that challenged my fighting blood. This was the hour to prove +whether I really meant the things I talked. + +On the morning of the day that van Tuiver was expected, I went early to +Aunt Varina's room. She was going in the launch, and was in a state of +flustration, occupied in putting on her best false hair. "Mrs. Tuis," I +said, "I want you to let me go to meet Mr. van Tuiver instead of you." + +I will not stop to report the good lady's outcries. I did not care, +I said, whether it was proper, nor did I care whether, as she finally +hinted, it might not be agreeable to Mr. van Tuiver. I was sorry to have +to thrust myself upon him, but I was determined to go, and would let +nothing prevent me. And all at once she yielded, rather surprising me +by the suddenness of it. I suppose she concluded that van Tuiver was the +man to handle me, and the quicker he got at it the better. + +It is a trying thing to deal with the rich and great. If you treat them +as the rest of the world does, you are a tuft-hunter; if you treat them +as the rest of the world pretends to, you are a hypocrite; whereas, if +you deal with them truly, it is hard not to seem, even to yourself, a +bumptious person. I remember trying to tell myself on the launch-trip +that I was not in the least excited; and then, standing on the platform +of the railroad station, saying: "How can you expect not to be excited, +when even the railroad is excited?" + +"Will Mr. van Tuiver's train be on time?" I asked, of the agent. + +"'Specials' are not often delayed," he replied, "at least, not Mr. van +Tuiver's." + +The engine and its two cars drew up, and the traveller stepped out upon +the platform, followed by his secretary and his valet. I went forward to +meet him. "Good morning, Mr. van Tuiver." + +I saw at once that he did not remember me. "Mrs. Abbott," I prompted. "I +came to meet you." + +"Ah," he said. He had never got clear whether I was a sewing-woman, or +a tutor, or what, and whenever he erred in such matters, it was on the +side of caution. + +"Your wife is doing well," I said, "and the child as well as could be +expected." + +"Thank you," he said. "Did no one else come?" + +"Mrs. Tuis was not able," I said, diplomatically, and we moved towards +the launch. + +24. He did not offer to help me into the vessel, but I, crude +Western woman, did not miss the attention. We seated ourselves in the +upholstered leather seats in the stern, and when the "luggage" had been +stowed aboard, the little vessel swung away from the pier. Then I said: +"If you will pardon me, Mr. van Tuiver, I should like to talk with you +privately." + +He looked at me for a moment, and then answered, abruptly: "Yes, madam." +The secretary rose and went forward. + +The whirr of the machinery and the strong breeze made by the boat's +motion, made it certain that no one could hear us, and so I began my +attack: "Mr. van Tuiver, I am a friend of your wife's. I came here to +help her in this crisis, and I came to-day to meet you because it was +necessary for someone to talk to you frankly about the situation. +You will understand, I presume, that Mrs. Tuis is not--not very well +informed about the matters in question." + +His gaze was fixed intently upon me, but he said not a word. After +waiting, I continued: "Perhaps you will wonder why your wife's +physicians could not have handled the matter. The reason is, there is +a woman's side to such questions and often it is difficult for men to +understand it. If Sylvia knew the truth, she could speak for herself; +so long as she does not know it, I shall have to take the liberty of +speaking for her." + +Again there was a pause. He did nothing more than watch me, yet I could +feel his affronted maleness rising up for battle. I waited on purpose to +compel him to speak. + +"May I ask," he inquired, at last, "what you mean by the 'truth' that +you refer to?" + +"I mean," I said, "the cause of the infant's affliction." + +His composure was a thing to wonder at. He did not show by the flicker +of an eyelash any sign of uneasiness. + +"Let me explain one thing," I continued. "I owe it to Dr. Perrin to make +clear that he had nothing whatever to do with my coming into possession +of the secret. In fact, as he will no doubt tell you, I knew it before +he did; it is possible that you owe it to me that the infant is not +disfigured as well as blind." + +I paused again. "If that be true," he said, with unshaken formality, "I +am obliged to you." What a man! + +I continued: "My one desire and purpose is to protect my friend. So far, +the secret has been kept from her. I consented to this, because her very +life was at stake, it seemed to us all. But now she is well enough to +know, and the question is SHALL she know. I need hardly tell you +that Dr. Perrin thinks she should not, and that he has been using his +influence to persuade me to agree with him; so also has Mrs. Tuis----" + +Then I saw the first trace of uncertainty in his eyes. "There was a +critical time," I explained, "when Mrs. Tuis had to be told. You may be +sure, however, that no hint of the truth will be given by her. I am the +only person who is troubled with the problem of Sylvia's rights." + +I waited. "May I suggest, Mrs.--Mrs. Abbott--that the protection of +Mrs. van Tuiver's rights can be safely left to her physicians and her +husband?" + +"One would wish so, Mr. van Tuiver, but the medical books are full of +evidence that women's rights frequently need other protection." + +I perceived that he was nearing the end of his patience now. "You make +it difficult for me to talk to you," he said. "I am not accustomed to +having my affairs taken out of my hands by strangers." + +"Mr. van Tuiver," I replied, "in this most critical matter it is +necessary to speak without evasion. Before her marriage Sylvia made an +attempt to safeguard herself in this very matter, and she was not dealt +with fairly." + +At last I had made a hole in the mask! His face was crimson as +he replied: "Madam, your knowledge of my private affairs is most +astonishing. May I inquire how you learned these things?" + +I did not reply at once, and he repeated the question. I perceived that +this was to him the most important matter--his wife's lack of reserve! + +"The problem that concerns us here," I said, "is whether you are willing +to repair the error you made. Will you go frankly to your wife and admit +your responsibility----" + +He broke in, angrily: "Madam, the assumption you are making is one I see +no reason for permitting." + +"Mr. van Tuiver," said I, "I hoped that you would not take that line of +argument. I perceive that I have been _naive._" + +"Really, madam!" he replied, with cruel intent, "you have not impressed +me so!" + +I continued unshaken: "In this conversation it will be necessary to +assume that you are responsible for the presence of the disease." + +"In that case," he replied, haughtily, "I can have no further part in +the conversation, and I will ask you to drop it at once." + +I might have taken him at his word and waited, confident that in the +end he would have to come and ask for terms. But that would have seemed +childish to me, with the grave matters we had to settle. After a minute +or two, I said, quietly: "Mr. van Tuiver, you wish me to believe that +previous to your marriage you had always lived a chaste life?" + +He was equal to the effort it cost to control himself. He sat examining +me with his cold grey eyes. I suppose I must have been as new and +monstrous a phenomenon to him as he was to me. + +At last, seeing that he would not reply, I said, coldly: "It will help +us to get forward if you will give up the idea that it is possible for +you to put me off, or to escape this situation." + +"Madam," he cried, suddenly, "come to the point! What is it that you +want? Money?" + +I had thought I was prepared for everything; but this was an aspect of +his world which I could hardly have been expected to allow for. I stared +at him and then turned from the sight of him. "And to think that Sylvia +is married to such a man!" I whispered, half to myself. + +"Mrs. Abbott," he exclaimed, "how can anyone understand what you are +driving at?" + +But I turned away without answering, and for a long time sat gazing over +the water. What was the use of pleading with such a man? What was the +use of pouring out one's soul to him? I would tell Sylvia the truth at +once, and leave him to her! + +25. I heard him again, at last; he was talking to my back, his tone +a trifle less aloof. "Mrs. Abbott, do you realize that I know nothing +whatever about you--your character, your purpose, the nature of your +hold upon my wife? So what means have I of judging? You threaten me with +something that seems to me entirely insane--and what can I make of it? +If you wish me to understand you, tell me in plain words what you want." + +I reflected that I was in the world, and must take it as I found it. "I +have told you what I want," I said; "but I will tell you again, if it is +necessary. I hoped to persuade you that it was your duty to go to your +wife and tell her the truth." + +He took a few moments to make sure of his self-possession. "And would +you explain what good you imagine that could do?" + +"Your wife," I said, "must be put in position to protect herself in +future. There is no means of making sure in such a matter, except to +tell her the truth. You love her--and you are a man who has never been +accustomed to do without what he wants." + +"Great God, woman!" he cried. "Don't you suppose one blind child is +enough?" + +It was the first human word that he had spoken, and I was grateful for +it. "I have already covered that point," I said, in a low voice. "The +medical books are full of painful evidence that several blind children +are often not enough. There can be no escaping the necessity--Sylvia +must _know._ The only question is, who shall tell her? You must realize +that in urging you to be the person, I am thinking of your good as well +as hers. I will, of course, not mention that I have had anything to +do with persuading you, and so it will seem to her that you have some +realization of the wrong you have done her, some desire to atone for it, +and to be honourable and fair in your future dealings with her. When she +has once been made to realize that you are no more guilty than other men +of your class--hat you have done no worse than all of them---- + +"You imagine she could be made to believe that?" he broke in, +impatiently. + +"I will undertake to see that she believes it," I replied. + +"You seem to have great confidence in your ability to manage my wife!" + +"If you continue to resent my existence," I answered, gravely, "you will +make it impossible for me to help you." + +"Pardon me," he said--but he did not say it cordially. + +I went on: "There is much that can be said in your behalf. I realize it +is quite possible that you were not wholly to blame when you wrote to +Bishop Chilton that you were fit to marry; I know that you may have +believed it--that you might even have found physicians to tell you so. +There is wide-spread ignorance on the subject of this disease. Men have +the idea that the chronic forms of it cannot be communicated to women, +and it is difficult to make them realize what modern investigations have +proven. You can explain that to Sylvia, and I will back you up in it. +You were in love with her, you wanted her. Go to her now, and admit to +her honestly that you have wronged her. Beg her to forgive you, and to +let you help make the best of the cruel situation that has arisen." + +So I went on, pouring out my soul. And when I had finished, he said, +"Mrs. Abbott, I have listened patiently to your most remarkable +proposition. My answer is that I must ask you to withdraw from this +intimate matter, which concerns only my wife and myself." + +He was back where we started! Trying to sweep aside these grim and +terrible realities with the wave of a conventional hand! Was this the +way he met Sylvia's arguments? I felt moved to tell him what I thought +of him. + +"You are a proud man, Mr. van Tuiver--an obstinate man, I fear. It is +hard for you to humble yourself to your wife--to admit a crime and beg +forgiveness. Tell me--is that why you hesitate? Is it because you fear +you will have to take second place in your family from now on--that you +will no longer be able to dominate Sylvia? Are you afraid of putting +into her hands a weapon of self-defence?" + +He made no response. + +"Very well," I said, at last. "Let me tell you, then--I will not help +any man to hold such a position in a woman's life. Women have to bear +half the burdens of marriage, they pay half, or more than half, the +penalties; and so it is necessary that they have a voice in its affairs. +Until they know the truth, they can never have a voice." + +Of course my little lecture on Feminism might as well have been +delivered to a sphinx. "How stupid you are!" I cried. "Don't you know +that some day Sylvia must find out the truth for herself?" + +This was before the days when newspapers and magazines began to discuss +such matters frankly; but still there were hints to be picked up. I had +a newspaper-item in my bag--the board of health in a certain city had +issued a circular giving instructions for the prevention of blindness +in newly-born infants, and discussing the causes thereof; and the United +States post office authorities had barred the circular from the mails. I +said, "Suppose that item had come under Sylvia's eyes; might it not have +put her on the track. It was in her newspaper the day before yesterday; +and it was only by accident that I got hold of it first. Do you suppose +that can go on forever?" + +"Now that I am here," he replied, "I will be glad to relieve you of such +responsibilities." + +Which naturally made me cross. I drew from my quiver an arrow that I +thought would penetrate his skin. "Mr. van Tuiver," I said, "a man in +your position must always be an object of gossip and scandal. Suppose +some enemy were to send your wife an anonymous letter? Or suppose there +were some woman who thought that you had wronged her?" + +I stopped. He gave me one keen look--and then again the impenetrable +mask! "My wife will have to do as other women in her position do--pay no +attention to scandal-mongers of any sort." + +I paused, and then went on: "I believe in marriage. I consider it a +sacred thing; I would do anything in my power to protect and preserve a +marriage. But I hold that it must be an equal partnership. I would fight +to make it that; and wherever I found that it could not be that, I would +say it was not marriage, but slavery, and I would fight just as hard to +break it. Can you not understand that attitude upon a woman's part?" + +He gave no sign that he could understand. But still I would not give up +my battle. "Mr. van Tuiver," I pleaded, "I am a much older person than +you. I have seen a great deal of life--I have seen suffering even worse +than yours. And I am trying most earnestly to help you. Can you not +bring yourself to talk to me frankly? Perhaps you have never talked with +a woman about such matters--I mean, with a good woman. But I assure +you that other men have found it possible, and never regretted the +confidence they placed in me." + +I went on to tell him about my own sons, and what I had done for them; +I told him of a score of other boys in their class who had come to me, +making me a sort of mother-confessor. I do not think that I was entirely +deceived by my own eloquence--there was, I am sure, a minute or two +when he actually wavered. But then the habits of a precocious life-time +reasserted themselves, and he set his lips and told himself that he was +Douglas van Tuiver. Such things might happen in raw Western colleges, +but they were not according to the Harvard manner, nor the tradition of +life in Fifth Avenue clubs. + +He could not be a boy! He had never had any boyhood, any childhood--he +had been a state personage ever since he had known that he was anything. +I found myself thinking suddenly of the thin-lipped old family lawyer, +who had had much to do with shaping his character, and whom Sylvia +described to me, sitting at her dinner-table and bewailing the folly +of people who "admitted things." That was what made trouble for family +lawyers--not what people did, but what they admitted. How easy it was +to ignore impertinent questions! And how few people had the wit to do +it!-it seemed as if the shade of the thin-lipped old family lawyer were +standing by Douglas van Tuiver's side. + +In a last desperate effort, I cried, "Even suppose that I grant your +request, even suppose I agree not to tell Sylvia the truth--still the +day will come when you will hear from her the point-blank question: 'Is +my child blind because of this disease?' And what will you answer?" + +He said, in his cold, measured tones, "I will answer that there are a +thousand ways in which the disease can be innocently acquired." + +For a long time there was silence between us. At last he spoke again, +and his voice was as emotionless as if we had just met: "Do I understand +you, madam, that if I reject your advice and refuse to tell my wife what +you call the truth, it is your intention to tell her yourself?" + +"You understand me correctly," I replied. + +"And may I ask when you intend to carry out this threat?" + +"I will wait," I said, "I will give you every chance to think it +over--to consult with the doctors, in case you wish to. I will not take +the step without giving you fair notice." + +"For that I am obliged to you," he said, with a touch of irony; and that +was our last word. + +26. Our island was visible in the distance and I was impatient for the +time when I should be free from this man's presence. But as we drew +nearer, I noticed a boat coming out; it proved to be one of the smaller +launches heading directly for us. Neither van Tuiver nor I spoke, but +both of us watched it, and he must have been wondering, as I was, what +its purpose could be. When it was near enough, I made out that its +passengers were Dr. Perrin and Dr. Gibson. + +We slowed up, and the other boat did the same, and they lay within a few +feet of each other. Dr. Perrin greeted van Tuiver, and after introducing +the other man, he said: "We came out to have a talk with you. Would you +be so good as to step into this boat?" + +"Certainly," was the reply. The two launches were drawn side by side, +and the transfer made; the man who was running the smaller launch +stepped into ours--evidently having been instructed in advance. + +"You will excuse us please?" said the little doctor to me. The man who +had stepped into our launch spoke to the captain of it, and the power +was then put on, and we moved away a sufficient distance to be out of +hearing. I thought this a strange procedure, but I conjectured that the +doctors had become nervous as to what I might have told van Tuiver. So +I dismissed the matter from my mind, and spent my time reviewing the +exciting adventure I had just passed through. + +How much impression had I made? It was hard for me to judge such a man. +He would pretend to be less concerned than he actually was. But surely +he must see that he was in my power, and would have to give way in the +end! + +There came a hail from the little vessel, and we moved alongside again. +"Would you kindly step in here with us, Mrs. Abbott?" said Dr. Perrin, +and when I had done so, he ordered the boatman to move away once more. +Van Tuiver said not a word, but I noted a strained look upon his face, +and I thought the others seemed agitated also. + +As soon as the other vessel was out of hearing, Dr. Perrin turned to me +and said: "Mrs. Abbott, we came out to see Mr. van Tuiver, to warn him +of a distressing accident which has just happened. Mrs. van Tuiver was +asleep in her room, and Miss Lyman and another of the nurses were in the +next room. They indiscreetly made some remarks on the subject which we +have all been discussing--how much a wife should be told about these +matters, and suddenly they discovered Mrs. van Tuiver standing in the +doorway of the room." + +My gaze had turned to Douglas van Tuiver. "So she _knows!_" I cried. + +"We don't think that she knows, but she has a suspicion and is trying to +find out. She asked to see you." + +"Ah, yes!" I said. + +"She declared that she wished to see you as soon as you returned--that +she would not see anyone else, not even Mr. van Tuiver. You will +understand that this portends trouble for all of us. We judged it +necessary to have a consultation about the matter." + +I bowed in assent. + +"Now, Mrs. Abbot," began the little doctor, solemnly, "there is no +longer a question of abstract ideas, but of an immediate emergency. We +feel that we, as the physicians in charge of the case, have the right to +take control of the matter. We do not see----" + +"Dr. Perrin," I said, "let us come to the point. You want me to spin a +new web of deception?" + +"We are of the opinion, Mrs. Abbott, that in such matters the physicians +in charge----" + +"Excuse me," I said, quickly, "we have been over all this before, and we +know that we disagree. Has Mr. van Tuiver told you of the proposition I +have just made?" + +"You mean for him to go to his wife----" + +"Yes." + +"He has told us of this, and has offered to do it. We are of the opinion +that it would be a grave mistake." + +"It has been three weeks since the birth of the baby," I said. "Surely +all danger of fever is past. I will grant you that if it were a question +of telling her deliberately, it might be better to put it off for a +while. I would have been willing to wait for months, but for the fact +that I dreaded something like the present situation. Now that it has +happened, surely it is best to use our opportunity while all of us +are here and can persuade her to take the kindest attitude towards her +husband." + +"Madam!" broke in Dr. Gibson. (He was having difficulty in controlling +his excitement.) "You are asking us to overstep the bounds of our +professional duty. It is not for the physician to decide upon the +attitude a wife should take toward her husband." + +"Dr. Gibson," I replied, "that is what you propose to do, only you wish +to conceal the fact. You would force Mrs. van Tuiver to accept your +opinion of what a wife's duty is." + +Dr. Perrin took command once more. "Our patient has asked for you, and +she looks to you for guidance. You must put aside your own convictions +and think of her health. You are the only person who can calm her, and +surely it is your duty to do so!" + +"I know that I might go in and lie again to my friend, but she knows +too much to be deceived for very long. You know what a mind she has--a +lawyer's mind! How can I persuade her that the nurses--why, I do not +even know what she heard the nurses say!" + +"We have that all written down for you," put in Dr. Perrin, quickly. + +"You have their recollection of it, no doubt--but suppose they have +forgotten some of it? Sylvia has not forgotten, you may be sure--every +word is burned with fire into her brain. She has put with this +everything she ever heard on the subject--the experience of her +friend, Harriet Atkinson-all that I've told her in the past about such +things----" + +"Ah!" growled Dr. Gibson. "That's it! If you had not meddled in the +beginning----" + +"Now, now!" said the other, soothingly. "You ask me to relieve you of +the embarrassment of this matter. I quite agree with Mrs. Abbott that +there is too much ignorance about these things, but she must recognise, +I am sure, that this is not the proper moment for enlightening Mrs. van +Tuiver." + +"I do not recognise it at all," I said. "If her husband will go to her +and tell her humbly and truthfully----" + +"You are talking madness!" cried the old man, breaking loose again. "She +would be hysterical--she would regard him as something loathsome--some +kind of criminal----" + +"Of course she would be shocked," I said, "but she has the coolest head +of anyone I know--I do not think of any man I would trust so fully +to take a rational attitude in the end. We can explain to her what +extenuating circumstances there are, and she will have to recognise +them. She will see that we are considering her rights----" + +"Her _rights!_" The old man fairly snorted the words. + +"Now, now, Dr. Gibson!" interposed the other. "You asked me----" + +"I know! I know! But as the older of the physicians in charge of this +case----" + +Dr. Perrin managed to frown him down, and went on trying to placate +me. But through the argument I could hear the old man muttering in +his collar a kind of double bass _pizzicato_: "Suffragettes! Fanatics! +Hysteria! Woman's Rights!" + +27. The breeze was feeble, and the sun was blazing hot, but nevertheless +I made myself listen patiently for a while. They had said it all to +me, over and over again; but it seemed that Dr. Perrin could not be +satisfied until it had been said in Douglas van Tuiver's presence. + +"Dr. Perrin," I exclaimed, "even supposing we make the attempt to +deceive her, we have not one plausible statement to make----" + +"You are mistaken, Mrs. Abbott," said he. "We have the perfectly +well-known fact that this disease is often contracted in ways which +involve no moral blame. And in this case I believe I am in position to +state how the accident happened." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I don't know whether you heard that just before Mrs. van Tuiver's +confinement, I was called away to one of the other keys to attend a +negro-woman. And since this calamity has befallen us, I have realized +that I was possibly not as careful in sterilizing my instruments as I +might have been. It is of course a dreadful thing for any physician to +have to believe----" + +He stopped, and there was a long silence. I gazed from one to another of +the men. Two of them met my gaze; one did not. "He is going to let you +say that?" I whispered, at last. + +"Honour and fairness compel me to say it, Mrs. Abbott. I believe----" + +But I interrupted him. "Listen to me, Dr. Perrin. You are a chivalrous +gentleman, and you think you are helping a man in desperate need. But +I say that anyone who would permit you to tell such a tale is a +contemptible coward!" + +"Madam," cried Dr. Gibson, furiously, "there is a limit even to a +woman's rights!" + +A silence followed. At last I resumed, in a low voice, "You gentlemen +have your code: you protect the husband--you protect him at all hazards. +I could understand this, if he were innocent of the offence in question; +I could understand it if there were any possibility of his being +innocent. But how can you protect him, when you know that he is guilty?" + +"There can be no question of such knowledge!" cried the old doctor. + +"I have no idea," I said, "how much he has admitted to you; but let me +remind you of one circumstance, which is known to Dr. Perrin--that I +came to this place with the definite information that symptoms of the +disease were to be anticipated. Dr. Perrin knows that I told that to Dr. +Overton in New York. Has he informed you of it?" + +There was an awkward interval. I glanced at van Tuiver, and I saw that +he was leaning forward, staring at me. I thought he was about to speak, +when Dr. Gibson broke in, excitedly, "All this is beside the mark! We +have a serious emergency to face, and we are not getting anywhere. As +the older of the physicians in charge of this case----" + +And he went on to give me a lecture on the subject of authority. He +talked for five minutes, ten minutes--I lost all track of the time. I +had suddenly begun to picture how I would act and what I would say when +I went into Sylvia's room. What a state must Sylvia be in, while we sat +out here in the blazing mid-day sun, discussing her right to freedom and +knowledge! + +28. "I have always been positive," Dr. Gibson was saying, "but the +present discussion has made me more positive than ever. As the older of +the physicians in charge of this case, I say most emphatically that the +patient shall not be told!" + +I could not stand him any longer. "I am going to tell the patient," I +said. + +"You shall _not_ tell her!" + +"But how will you prevent me?" + +"You shall not _see_ her!" + +"But she is determined to see _me!_" + +"She will be told that you are not there." + +"And how long do you imagine that that will satisfy her?" + +There was a pause. They looked at van Tuiver, expecting him to speak. +And so I heard once more his cold, deliberate voice. "We have done +all we can. There can no longer be any question as to the course to be +taken. Mrs. Abbott will not return to my home." + +"What?" I cried. I stared at him, aghast. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean what I say--that you will not be taken back to the island." + +"But where will I be taken?" + +"You will be taken to the mainland." + +I stared at the others. No one gave a sign. At last I whispered, "You +would _dare?_" + +"You leave us no other alternative," replied the master. + +"You--you will practically kidnap me!" My voice must have been rather +wild at that moment. + +"You left my home of your own free will. I think I need hardly point out +to you that I am not compelled to invite you back to it." + +"And what will Sylvia----" I stopped; appalled at the vista the words +opened up. + +"My wife," said van Tuiver, "will ultimately choose between her husband +and her most remarkable acquaintance." + +"And you gentlemen?" I turned to the others. "You would give your +sanction to this outrageous action?" + +"As the older of the physicians in charge of this case----" began Dr. +Gibson. + +I turned to van Tuiver again. "When your wife finds out what you have +done to me--what will you answer?" + +"We will deal with that situation when we come to it." + +"Of course," I said, "you understand that sooner or later I shall get +word to her!" + +He answered, "We shall assume from now on that you are a mad woman, and +shall take our precautions accordingly." + +Again there was a silence. + +"The launch will return to the mainland," said van Tuiver at last. "It +will remain there until Mrs. Abbott sees fit to go ashore. May I ask if +she has sufficient money in her purse to take her to New York?" + +I could not help laughing. The thing was so wild--and yet I could see +that from their point of view it was the only thing to do. "Mrs. Abbott +is not certain that she is going back to New York," I replied. "If she +does go, it will not be with Mr. van Tuiver's money." + +"One thing more," said Dr. Perrin. It was the first time he had spoken +since van Tuiver's incredible announcement. "I trust, Mrs. Abbott, that +this unfortunate situation may at all costs be concealed from servants, +and from the world in general." + +From which I realized how badly I had them frightened. They actually saw +me making physical resistance! + +"Dr. Perrin," I replied, "I am acting in this matter for my friend. +I will add this: that I believe that you are letting yourself be +overborne, and that you will regret it some day." + +He made no answer. Douglas van Tuiver put an end to the discussion by +rising and signalling the other launch. When it had come alongside, he +said to the captain, "Mrs. Abbott is going back to the railroad. You +will take her at once." + +Then he waited; I was malicious enough to give him an anxious moment +before I rose. Dr. Perrin offered me his hand; and Dr. Gibson said, with +a smile, "Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott. I'm sorry you can't stay with us any +longer." + +I think it was something to my credit that I was able to play out the +game before the boatmen. "I am sorry, too," I countered. "I am hoping I +shall be able to return." + +And then came the real ordeal. "Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott," said Douglas van +Tuiver, with his stateliest bow; and I managed to answer him! + +As I took my seat, he beckoned his secretary. There was a whispered +consultation for a minute or two, and then the master returned to the +smaller launch with the doctors. He gave the word, and the two vessels +set out--one to the key, and the other to the railroad. The secretary +went in the one with me! + +29. And here ends a certain stage of my story. I have described Sylvia +as I met her and judged her; and if there be any reader who has been +irked by this method, who thinks of me as a crude and pushing person, +disposed to meddle in the affairs of others, here is where that reader +will have his satisfaction and revenge. For if ever a troublesome puppet +was jerked suddenly off the stage--if ever a long-winded orator was +effectively snuffed out--I was that puppet and that orator. I stop and +think--shall I describe how I paced up and down the pier, respectfully +but emphatically watched by the secretary? And all the melodramatic +plots I conceived, the muffled oars and the midnight visits to my +Sylvia? My sense of humour forbids it. For a while now I shall take +the hint and stay in the background of this story. I shall tell the +experiences of Sylvia as Sylvia herself told them to me long afterwards; +saying no more about my own fate--save that I swallowed my humiliation +and took the next train to New York, a far sadder and wiser +social-reformer! + + + + + +BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL + + +1. Long afterwards Sylvia told me about what happened between her +husband and herself; how desperately she tried to avoid discussing the +issue with him--out of her very sense of fairness to him. But he came to +her room, in spite of her protest, and by his implacable persistence +he made her hear what he had to say. When he had made up his mind to a +certain course of action, he was no more to be resisted than a glacier. + +"Sylvia," he said, "I know that you are upset by what has happened. I +make every allowance for your condition; but there are some statements +that I must be permitted to make, and there are simply no two ways about +it--you must get yourself together and hear me." + +"Let me see Mary Abbott!" she insisted, again and again. "It may not be +what you want--but I demand to see her." + +So at last he said, "You cannot see Mrs. Abbott. She has gone back to +New York." And then, at her look of consternation: "That is one of the +things I have to talk to you about." + +"Why has she gone back?" cried Sylvia. + +"Because I was unwilling to have her here." + +"You mean you sent her away?" + +"I mean that she understood she was no longer welcome." + +Sylvia drew a quick breath and turned away to the window. + +He took advantage of the opportunity to come near, and draw up a chair +for her. "Will you not pleased to be seated," he said. And at last she +turned, rigidly, and seated herself. + +"The time has come," he declared, "when we have to settle this question +of Mrs. Abbott, and her influence upon your life. I have argued with you +about such matters, but now what has happened makes further discussion +impossible. You were brought up among people of refinement, and it has +been incredible to me that you should be willing to admit to your home +such a woman as this--not merely of the commonest birth, but without a +trace of the refinement to which you have been accustomed. And now +you see the consequences of your having brought such a person into our +life!" + +He paused. She made no sound, and her gaze was riveted upon the +window-curtain. + +"She happens to be here," he went on, "at a time when a dreadful +calamity befalls us--when we are in need of the utmost sympathy and +consideration. Here is an obscure and terrible affliction, which has +baffled the best physicians in the country; but this ignorant farmer's +wife considers that she knows all about it. She proceeds to discuss it +with every one--sending your poor aunt almost into hysterics, setting +the nurses to gossiping--God knows what else she has done, or what she +will do, before she gets through. I don't pretend to know her ultimate +purpose--blackmail, possibly----" + +"Oh, how can you!" she broke out, involuntarily. "How can you say such a +thing about a friend of mine?" + +"I might answer with another question--how can you have such a friend? +A woman who has cast off every restraint, every consideration of +decency--and yet is able to persuade a daughter of the Castlemans to +make her an intimate! Possibly she is an honest fanatic. Dr. Perrin +tells me she was the wife of a brutal farmer, who mistreated her. No +doubt that has embittered her against men, and accounts for her mania. +You see that her mind leaped at once to the most obscene and hideous +explanation of this misfortune of ours--an explanation which pleased her +because it blackened the honour of a man." + +He stopped again. Sylvia's eyes had moved back to the window-curtain. + +"I am not going to insult your ears," he said, "with discussions of her +ideas. The proper person to settle such matters is a physician, and if +you wish Dr. Perrin to do so, he will tell you what he knows about the +case. But I wish you to realize somehow what this thing has meant to +me. I have managed to control myself----" He saw her shut her lips more +tightly. "The doctors tell me that I must not excite you. But picture +the situation. I come to my home, bowed down with grief for you and for +my child. And this mad woman thrusts herself forward, shoves aside your +aunt and your physicians, and comes in the launch to meet me at the +station. And then she accuses me of being criminally guilty of the +blindness of my child--of having wilfully deceived my wife! Think of +it--that is my welcome to my home!" + +"Douglas," she cried, wildly, "Mary Abbott would not have done such a +thing without reason----" + +"I do not purpose to defend myself," he said, coldly. "If you are bent +upon filling your mind with such matters, go to Dr. Perrin. He will +tell you that he, as a physician, knows that the charge against me is +preposterous. He will tell you that even granting that the cause of +the blindness is what Mrs. Abbott guesses, there are a thousand ways in +which such an infection can be contracted, which are perfectly innocent, +involving no guilt on the part of anyone. Every doctor knows that +drinking-cups, wash-basins, towels, even food, can be contaminated. He +knows that any person can bring the affliction into a home--servants, +nurses, even the doctors themselves. Has your mad woman friend told you +any of that?" + +"She has told me nothing. You know that I have had no opportunity to +talk with her. I only know what the nurses believe----" + +"They believe what Mrs. Abbott told them. That is absolutely all the +reason they have for believing anything!" + +She did not take that quite as he expected. "So Mary Abbott _did_ tell +them!" she cried. + +He hurried on: "The poisonous idea of a vulgar Socialist woman--this is +the thing upon which you base your suspicions of your husband!" + +"Oh!" she whispered, half to herself. "Mary Abbott _did_ say it!" + +"What if she did?" + +"Oh, Douglas, Mary would never have said such a thing to a nurse unless +she had been certain of it!" + +"Certain?" he broke out. "What certainty could she imagine she had? +She is a bitter, frantic woman--a divorced woman--who jumped to the +conclusion that pleased her, because it involved the humiliation of a +rich man." + +He went on, his voice trembling with suppressed passion: "When you know +the real truth, the thing becomes a nightmare. You, a delicate woman, +lying here helpless--the victim of a cruel misfortune, and with the +life of an afflicted infant depending upon your peace of mind. Your +physicians planning day and night to keep you quiet, to keep the +dreadful, unbearable truth from you----" + +"Oh, what truth? That's the terrifying thing--to know that people are +keeping things from me! What _was_ it they were keeping?" + +"First of all, the fact that the baby was blind; and then the cause of +it----" + +"Then they _do_ know the cause?" + +"They don't know positively--no one can know positively. But poor +Dr. Perrin had a dreadful idea, that he had to hide from you because +otherwise he could not bear to continue in your house----" + +"Why, Douglas! What do you mean?" + +"I mean that a few days before your confinement, he was called away to +the case of a negro-woman--you knew that, did you not?" + +"Go on." + +"He had the torturing suspicion that possibly he was not careful enough +in sterilizing his instruments, and that he, your friend and protector, +may be the man who is to blame." + +"Oh! Oh!" Her voice was a whisper of horror. + +"That is one of the secrets your doctors have been trying to hide." + +There was silence, while her eyes searched his face. Suddenly she +stretched out her hands to him, crying desperately: "Oh, is this true?" + +He did not take the outstretched hands. "Since I am upon the +witness-stand, I have to be careful of my replies. It is what Dr. Perrin +tells me. Whether the explanation he gives is the true one--whether +he himself, or the nurse he recommended, may have brought the +infection----" + +"It couldn't have been the nurse," she said quickly. "She was so +careful----" + +He did not allow her to finish. "You seem determined," he said, coldly, +"to spare everyone but your husband." + +"No!" she protested, "I have tried hard to be fair--to be fair to both +you and my friend. Of course, if Mary Abbott was mistaken, I have done +you a great injustice--" + +He saw that she was softening, and that it was safe for him to be a +man. "It has been with some difficulty that I have controlled myself +throughout this experience," he said, rising to his feet. "If you do not +mind, I think I will not carry the discussion any further, as I don't +feel that I can trust myself to listen to a defence of that woman from +your lips. I will only tell you my decision in the matter. I have never +before used my authority as a husband; I hoped I should never have to +use it. But the time has come when you will have to choose between +Mary Abbott and your husband. I will positively not tolerate your +corresponding with her, or having anything further to do with her. +I take my stand upon that, and nothing will move me. I will not even +permit of any discussion of the subject. And now I hope you will excuse +me. Dr. Perrin wishes me to tell you that either he or Dr. Gibson are +ready at any time to advise you about these matters, which have been +forced upon your mind against their judgment and protests." + +2. You can see that it was no easy matter for Sylvia to get at the +truth. The nurses, already terrified because of their indiscretion, had +been first professionally thrashed, and then carefully drilled as to the +answers they were to make. But as a matter of fact they did not have +to make any answers at all, because Sylvia was unwilling to reveal to +anyone her distrust of her husband. + +One of two things was certain: either she had been horribly wronged by +her husband, or now she was horribly wronging him. Which was the truth? +Was it conceivable that I, Mary Abbott, would leap to a false conclusion +about such a matter? She knew that I felt intensely, almost fanatically, +on the subject, and also that I had been under great emotional stress. +Was it possible that I would have voiced mere suspicions to the nurses? +Sylvia could not be sure, for my standards were as strange to her as +my Western accent. She knew that I talked freely to everyone about such +matters--and would be as apt to select the nurses as the ladies of +the house. On the other hand, how was it conceivable that I could know +positively? To recognize a disease might be easy; but to specify from +what source it had come--that was surely not in my power! + +They did not leave her alone for long. Mrs. Tuis came in, with her +feminine terrors. "Sylvia, you must know that you are treating your +husband dreadfully! He has gone away down the beach by himself, and has +not even seen his baby!" + +"Aunt Varina--" she began, "won't you please go away?" + +But the other rushed on: "Your husband comes here, broken with grief +because of this affliction; and you overwhelm him with the most cruel +and wicked reproaches with charges you have no way in the world of +proving----" And the old lady caught her niece by the hand. "My child! +Come, do your duty!" + +"My duty?" + +"Make yourself fit, and take your husband to see his baby." + +"Oh, I can't!" cried Sylvia. "I don't want to be there when he sees her! +If I loved him--" Then, seeing her aunt's face of horror, she was seized +with a sudden impulse of pity, and caught the poor old lady in her arms. +"Aunt Varina," she said, "I am making you suffer, I know--I am making +everyone suffer! But if you only knew how I am suffering myself! How can +I know what to do." + +Mrs. Tuis was weeping; but quickly she got herself together, and +answered in a firm voice, "Your old auntie can tell you what to do. You +must come to your senses, my child--you must let your reason prevail. +Get your face washed, make yourself presentable, and come and take your +husband to see your baby. Women have to suffer, dear; we must not shirk +our share of life's burdens." + +"There is no danger of my shirking," said Sylvia, bitterly. + +"Come, dear, come," pleaded Mrs. Tuis. She was trying to lead the girl +to the mirror. If only she could be made to see how distraught and +disorderly she looked! "Let me help you to dress, dear--you know how +much better it always makes you feel." + +Sylvia laughed, a trifle wildly--but Mrs. Tuis had dealt with hysteria +before. "What would you like to wear?" she demanded. And then, without +waiting for an answer, "Let me choose something. One of your pretty +frocks." + +"A pretty frock, and a seething volcano underneath! That is your idea of +a woman's life!" + +The other responded very gravely, "A pretty frock, my dear, and a +smile--instead of a vulgar scene, and ruin and desolation afterwards." + +Sylvia made no reply. Yes, that was the life of woman--her old aunt +knew! And her old aunt knew also the psychology of her sex. She did not +go on talking about pretty frocks in the abstract; she turned at once to +the clothes-closet, and began laying pretty frocks upon the bed! + +3. Sylvia emerged upon the "gallery," clad in dainty pink muslin, her +beautiful shiny hair arranged under a semi-invalid's cap of pink maline. +Her face was pale, and the big red-brown eyes were hollow; but she was +quiet, and apparently mistress of herself again. She even humoured Aunt +Varina by leaning slightly upon her feeble arm, while the maid hastened +to place her chair in a shaded spot. + +Her husband came, and the doctors; the tea-things were brought, and +Aunt Varina poured tea, a-flutter with excitement. They talked about +the comparative temperatures of New York and the Florida Keys, and about +hedges of jasmine to shade the gallery from the evening sun. And after +a while, Aunt Varina arose, explaining that she would prepare Elaine for +her father's visit. In the doorway she stood for a moment, smiling upon +the pretty picture; it was all settled now--the outward forms had been +observed, and the matter would end, as such matters should end between +husband and wife--a few tears, a few reproaches, and then a few kisses. + +The baby was made ready, with a new dress, and a fresh silk bandage +to cover the pitiful, lifeless eyes. Aunt Varina had found pleasure in +making these bandages; she made them soft and pretty--less hygienic, +perhaps, but avoiding the suggestion of the hospital. + +When Sylvia and her husband came into the room, the faces of both of +them were white. Sylvia stopped near the door-way; and poor Aunt Varina +fluttered about, in agony of soul. When van Tuiver went to the cradle, +she hurried to his side, and sought to awaken the little one with gentle +nudges. Quite unexpectedly to her, van Tuiver sought to pick up the +infant; she helped him, and he stood, holding it awkwardly, as if afraid +it might go to pieces in his arms. + +So any man might appear, with his first infant; but to Sylvia it seemed +the most tragic sight she had ever seen in her life. She gave a low +cry, "Douglas!" and he turned, and she saw his face was working with the +feeling he was ashamed for anyone to see. "Oh, Douglas," she whispered, +"I'm so _sorry_ for you!" At which Aunt Varina decided that it was time +for her to make her escape. + +4. But the trouble between these two were not such as could be settled +by any burst of emotion. The next day they were again in a dispute, for +he had come to ask her word of honour that she would never see me again, +and would give him my letters to be returned unopened. This last was +what she had let her father do in the case of Frank Shirley; and she had +become certain in her own mind that she had done wrong. + +But he was insistent in his demand; declaring that it should be obvious +to her there could be no peace of mind for him so long as my influence +continued in her life. + +"But surely," protested Sylvia, "to hear Mary Abbott's explanation----" + +"There can be no explanation that is not an insult to your husband, and +to those who are caring for you. I am speaking in this matter not merely +for myself, but for your physicians, who know this woman, heard her +menaces and her vulgarity. It is their judgment that you should be +protected at all hazards from further contact with her." + +"Douglas," she argued, "you must realize that I am in distress of mind +about this matter----" + +"I certainly realize that." + +"And if you are thinking of my welfare, you should choose a course that +would set my mind at rest. But when you come to me and ask me that I +should not even read a letter from my friend--don't you realize what you +suggest to me, that there is something you are afraid for me to know?" + +"I do not attempt to deny my fear of this woman. I have seen how she has +been able to poison your mind with suspicions----" + +"Yes, Douglas--but now that has been done. What else is there to fear +from her?" + +"I have no idea what. She is a bitter, jealous woman, with a mind full +of hatred; and you are an innocent girl, who cannot judge about these +matters. What idea have you of the world in which you live, of the +slanders to which a man in your husband's position is exposed?" + +"I am not quite such a child as that----" + +"You have simply no idea, I tell you. I remember your consternation +when we first met, and I told you about the woman who had written me +a begging letter, and got an interview with me, and then started +screaming, and refused to leave the house till I had paid her a lot of +money. You had never heard such stories, had you? Yet it is the kind of +thing that is happening to rich men continually; it was one of the first +rules I was taught, never to let myself be alone with a strange woman, +no matter of what age, or under what circumstances." + +"But, I assure you, I would not listen to such people----" + +"You are asking right now to listen! And you would be influenced by +her--you could not help it, any more than you can help being distressed +about what she has already said. She intimated to Dr. Perrin that she +believed that I had been a man of depraved life, and that my wife and +child were now paying the penalty. How can I tell what vile stories +concerning me she may not have heard? How could I have any peace of mind +while I knew that she was free to pour them into your ear?" + +Sylvia sat dumb with questions she would not utter, hovering on the tip +of her tongue. + +He took her silence for acquiesence, and went on, quickly, "Let me give +you an illustration. A friend of mine whom you know well--I might as +well tell you his name, it was Freddie Atkins--was at supper with some +theatrical women; and one of them, not having any idea that Freddie knew +me, proceeded to talk about me, and how she had met me, and where we had +been together--about my yacht, and my castle in Scotland, and I don't +know what all else. It seems that this woman had been my mistress for +several years; she told quite glibly about me and my habits. Freddie got +the woman's picture, on some pretext or other, and brought it to me; I +had never laid eyes on her in my life. He could hardly believe it, and +to prove it to him I offered to meet the woman, under another name. +We sat in a restaurant, and she told the tale to Freddie and myself +together--until finally he burst out laughing, and told her who I was." + +He paused, to let this sink in. "Now, suppose your friend, Mary Abbott, +had met that woman! I don't imagine she is particularly careful whom +she associates with; and suppose she had come and told you that she knew +such a woman--what would you have said? Can you deny that the tale would +have made an impression on you? Yet, I've not the least doubt there are +scores of women who made such tales about me a part of their stock in +trade; there are thousands of women whose fortunes would be made for +life if they could cause such a tale to be believed. And imagine how +well-informed they would be, if anyone were to ask them concerning +my habits, and the reason why our baby is blind! I tell you, when the +rumour concerning our child has begun to spread, there will be ten +thousand people in New York city who will know of first-hand, personal +knowledge exactly how it happened, and how you took it, and everything +that I said to you about it. There will be sneers in the society-papers, +from New York to San Francisco; and smooth-tongued gentlemen calling, +to give us hints that we can stop these sneers by purchasing a de-luxe +edition of a history of our ancestors for six thousand dollars. There +will be well-meaning and beautiful-souled people who will try to get +you to confide in them, and then use their knowledge of your domestic +unhappiness to blackmail you; there will be threats of law-suits from +people who will claim that they have contracted a disease from you +or your child--your laundress, perhaps, or your maid, or one of these +nurses----" + +"Oh, stop! stop!" she cried. + +"I am quite aware," he said, quietly, "that these things are not +calculated to preserve the peace of mind of a young mother. You are +horrified when I tell you of them--yet you clamour for the right to have +Mrs. Abbott tell you of them! I warn you, Sylvia--you have married a +rich man, who is exposed to the attacks of cunning and unscrupulous +enemies. You, as his wife, are exactly as much exposed--possibly even +more so. Therefore when I see you entering into what I know to be a +dangerous intimacy, I must have the right to say to you, This shall +stop, and I tell you, there can never be any safety or peace of mind for +either of us, so long as you attempt to deny me that right." + +5. Dr. Gibson took his departure three or four days later; and before +he went, he came to give her his final blessing; talking to her, as he +phrased it, "like a Dutch uncle." "You must understand," he said, "I am +almost old enough to be your grandfather. I have four sons, anyone of +whom might have married you, if they had had the good fortune to be in +Castleman County at the critical time. So you must let me be frank with +you." + +Sylvia indicated that she was willing. + +"We don't generally talk to women about these matters; because they've +no standard by which to judge, and they almost always fly off and have +hysterics. Their case seems to them exceptional and horrible, their +husbands the blackest criminals in the whole tribe." + +He paused for a moment. "Now, Mrs. van Tuiver, the disease which has +made your baby blind is probably what we call gonorrhea. When it gets +into the eyes, it has very terrible results. But it doesn't often get +into the eyes, and for the most part it's a trifling affair, that we +don't worry about. I know there are a lot of new-fangled notions, but +I'm an old man, with experience of my own, and I have to have things +proven to me. I know that with as much of this disease as we doctors +see, if it was a deadly disease, there'd be nobody left alive in the +world. As I say, I don't like to discuss it with women; but it was not I +who forced the matter upon your attention----" + +"Pray go on, Dr. Gibson," she said. "I really wish to know all that you +will tell me." + +"The question has come up, how was this disease brought to your child? +Dr. Perrin suggested that possibly he--you understand his fear; and +possibly he is correct. But it seems to me an illustration of the +unwisdom of a physician's departing from his proper duty, which is to +cure people. If you wish to find out who brought a disease, what you +need is a detective. I know, of course, that there are people who can +combine the duties of physician and detective--and that without any +previous preparation or study of either profession." + +He waited for this irony to sink in; and Sylvia also waited, patiently. + +At last he resumed, "The idea has been planted in your mind that your +husband brought the trouble; and that idea is sure to stay there and +fester. So it becomes necessary for someone to talk to you straight. Let +me tell you that eight men out of ten have had this disease at some time +in their lives; also that very few of them were cured of it when they +thought they were. You have a cold: and then next month, you say +the cold is gone. So it is, for practical purposes. But if I take a +microscope, I find the germs of the cold still in your membranes, and I +know that you can give a cold, and a bad cold, to some one else who is +sensitive. It is true that you may go through all the rest of your life +without ever being entirely rid of that cold. You understand me?" + +"Yes," said Sylvia, in a low voice. + +"I say eight out of ten. Estimates would differ. Some doctors would say +seven out of ten--and some actual investigations have shown nine out of +ten. And understand me, I don't mean bar-room loafers and roustabouts. +I mean your brothers, if you have any, your cousins, your best friends, +the men who came to make love to you, and whom you thought of marrying. +If you had found it out about any one of them, of course you'd have cut +the acquaintance; yet you'd have been doing an injustice--for if you +had done that to all who'd ever had the disease, you might as well have +retired to a nunnery at once." + +The old gentleman paused again; then frowning at her under his bushy +eye-brows, he exclaimed, "I tell you, Mrs. van Tuiver, you're doing your +husband a wrong. Your husband loves you, and he's a good man--I've +had some talks with him, and I know he's not got nearly so much on his +conscience as the average husband. I'm a Southern man, and I know these +gay young bloods you've danced and flirted with all your young life. Do +you think if you went probing into their secret affairs, you'd have +had much pleasure in their company afterwards? I tell you again, you're +doing your husband a wrong! You're doing something that very few men +would stand, as patiently as he has stood it so far." + +All this time Sylvia had given no sign. So the old gentleman began to +feel a trifle uneasy. "Mind you," he said, "I'm not saying that men +ought to be like that. They deserve a good hiding, most of them--they're +very few of them fit to associate with a good woman. I've always said +that no man is really good enough for a good woman. But my point is that +when you select one to punish, you select not the guiltiest one, but +simply the one who's had the misfortune to fall under suspicion. And he +knows that's not fair; he'd have to be more than human if deep in his +soul he did not bitterly resent it. You understand me?" + +"I understand," she replied, in the same repressed voice. + +And the doctor rose and laid his hand on her shoulder. "I'm going home," +he said--"very probably we'll never meet each other again. I see you +making a great mistake, laying up unhappiness for yourself in the +future; and I wish to prevent it if I can. I wish to persuade you to +face the facts of the world in which we live. So I am going to tell you +something that I never expected I should tell to a lady." + +He was looking her straight in the eye. "You see me--I'm an old man, and +I seem fairly respectable to you. You've laughed at me some, but even +so, you've found it possible to get along with me without too great +repugnance. Well, I've had this disease; I've had it, and nevertheless +I've raised six fine, sturdy children. More than that--I'm not free to +name anybody else, but I happen to know positively that among the men +your husband employs on this island there are two who have the disease +right now. And the next charming and well-bred gentleman you are +introduced to, just reflect that there are at least eight chances in ten +that he has had the disease, and perhaps three or four in ten that he +has it at the minute he's shaking hands with you. And now you think that +over, and stop tormenting your poor husband!" + +6. One of the first things I did when I reached New York was to send a +little love-letter to Sylvia. I said nothing that would distress her; I +merely assured her that she was in my thoughts, and that I should look +to see her in New York, when we could have a good talk. I put this in +a plain envelope, with a typewritten address, and registered it in the +name of my stenographer. The receipt came back, signed by an unknown +hand, probably the secretary's. I found out later that the letter never +got to Sylvia. + +No doubt it was the occasion of renewed efforts upon her husband's part +to obtain from her the promise he desired. He would not be put off with +excuses; and at last he got her answer, in the shape of a letter which +she told him she intended to mail to me. In this letter she announced +her decision that she owed it to her baby to avoid all excitement and +nervous strain during the time that she was nursing it. Her husband had +sent for the yacht, and they were going to Scotland, and in the winter +to the Mediterranean and the Nile. Meantime she would not correspond +with me; but she wished me to know that there was to be no break in our +friendship, and that she would see me upon her return to New York. + +"There is much that has happened that I do not understand," she added. +"For the present, however, I shall try to dismiss it from my mind. I am +sure you will agree that it is right for me to give a year to being +a mother; as I wish you to feel perfectly at peace in the meantime, I +mention that it is my intention to be a mother only, and not a wife. I +am showing this letter to my husband before I mail it, so that he may +know exactly what I am doing, and what I have decided to do in the +future." + +"Of course," he said, after reading this, "you may send the letter, +if you insist--but you must realize that you are only putting off the +issue." + +She made no reply; and at last he asked, "You mean you intend to defy me +in this matter?" + +"I mean," she replied, quietly, "that for the sake of my baby I intend +to put off all discussion for a year." + +7. I figured that I should hear from Claire Lepage about two days after +I reached New York; and sure enough, she called me on the 'phone. +"I want to see you at once," she declared; and her voice showed the +excitement under which she was labouring. + +"Very well," I said, "come down." + +She entered my little living-room. It was the first time she had ever +visited me, but she did not stop for a glance about her; she did not +even stop to sit down. "Why didn't you tell me that you knew Sylvia +Castleman?" she cried. + +"My dear woman," I replied, "I was not under the least obligation to +tell you." + +"You have betrayed me!" she exclaimed, wildly. + +"Come, Claire," I said, after I had looked her in the eye a bit to calm +her. "You know quite well that I was under no bond of secrecy. And, +besides, I haven't done you any harm." + +"Why did you do it?" I regret to add that she swore. + +"I never once mentioned your name, Claire." + +"How much good do you imagine that does me? They have managed to find +out everything. They caught me in a trap." + +I reminded myself that it would not do to show any pity for her. "Sit +down, Claire," I said. "Tell me about it." + +She cried, in a last burst of anger, "I don't want to talk to you!" + +"All right," I answered. "But then, why did you come?" + +There was no reply to that. She sat down. "They were too much for me!" +she lamented. "If I'd had the least hint, I might have held my own. As +it was--I let them make a fool of me." + +"You are talking hieroglyphics to me. Who are 'they'?" + +"Douglas, and that old fox, Rossiter Torrance." + +"Rossiter Torrance?" I repeated the name, and then suddenly remembered. +The thin-lipped old family lawyer! + +"He sent up his card, and said he'd been sent to see me by Mary Abbot. +Of course, I had no suspicion--I fell right into the trap. We talked +about you for a while--he even got me to tell him where you lived; and +then at last he told me that he hadn't come from you at all, but had +merely wanted to find out if I knew you, and how intimate we were. He +had been sent by Douglas; and he wanted to know right away how much I +had told you about Douglas, and why I had done it. Of course, I denied +that I had told anything. Heavens, what a time he gave me!" + +Claire paused. "Mary, how could you have played such a trick upon me?" + +"I had no thought of doing you any harm," I replied. "I was simply +trying to help Sylvia." + +"To help her at any expense!" + +"Tell me, what will come of it? Are you afraid they'll cut off your +allowance?" + +"That's the threat." + +"But will they carry it out?" + +She sat, gazing at me resentfully. "I don't know whether I ought to +trust you any more," she said. + +"Do what you please about that," I replied. "I don't want to urge you." + +She hesitated a bit longer, and then decided to throw herself upon my +mercy. They would not dare to carry out their threat, so long as Sylvia +had not found out the whole truth. So now she had come to beg me to tell +no more than I had already told. She was utterly abject about it. I had +pretended to be her friend, I had won her confidence and listened to her +confessions; how did I wish to ruin her utterly, to have her cast out on +the street? + +Poor Claire! I said in the early part of my story that she understood +the language of idealism; but I wonder what I have told about her that +justifies this. The truth is, she was going down so fast that already +she seemed a different person; and she had been frightened by the +thin-lipped old family lawyer, so that she was incapable of even a +decent pretence. + +"Claire," I said, "there is no need for you to go on like this. I +have not the slightest intention of telling Sylvia about you. I cannot +imagine the circumstances that would make me want to tell her. Even if I +should do it, I would tell her in confidence, so that her husband would +never have any idea----" + +She went almost wild at this. To imagine that a woman would keep such a +confidence! As if she would not throw it at her husband's head the first +time they quarreled! Besides, if Sylvia knew this truth, she might leave +him; and if she left him, Claire's hold on his money would be gone. + +Over this money we had a long and lachrymose interview. And at the end +of it, there she sat gazing into space, baffled and bewildered. What +kind of a woman was I? How had I got to be the friend of Sylvia van +Tuiver? What had she seen in me, and what did I expect to get out of +her? I answered briefly; and suddenly Claire was overwhelmed by a rush +of curiosity--plain human curiosity. What was Sylvia like? Was she as +clever as they said? What was the baby like, and how was Sylvia taking +the misfortune? Could it really be true that I had been visiting the van +Tuivers in Florida, as old Rossiter Torrance had implied? + +Needless to say, I did not answer these questions freely. And I really +think my visitor was more pained by my uncommunicativeness than she +was by my betrayal of her. It was interesting also to notice a subtle +difference in her treatment of me. Gone was the slight touch of +condescension, gone was most of the familiarity! I had become a +personage, a treasurer of high state secrets, an intimate of the great +ones! There must be something more to me than Claire had realized +before! + +Poor Claire! She passes here from this story. For years thereafter I +used to catch a glimpse of her now and then, in the haunts of the birds +of gorgeous plumage; but I never got a chance to speak to her, nor did +she ever call on me again. So I do not know if Douglas van Tuiver still +continues her eight thousand a year. All I can say is that when I saw +her, her plumage was as gorgeous as ever, and its style duly certified +to the world that it had not been held over from a previous season of +prosperity. Twice I thought she had been drinking too much; but then--so +had many of the other ladies with the little glasses of bright-coloured +liquids before them. + +8. For the rest of that year I knew nothing about Sylvia except what I +read in the "society" column of my newspaper--that she was spending the +late summer in her husband's castle in Scotland. I myself was suffering +from the strain of what I had been through, and had to take a vacation. +I went West; and when I came back in the fall, to plunge again into my +work, I read that the van Tuivers, in their yacht, the "Triton," were in +the Mediterranean, and were planning to spend the winter in Japan. + +And then one day in January, like a bolt from the blue, came a cablegram +from Sylvia, dated Cairo: "Sailing for New York, Steamship 'Atlantic,' +are you there, answer." + +Of course I answered. And I consulted the sailing-lists, and waited, +wild with impatience. She sent me a wireless, two days out, and so I was +at the pier when the great vessel docked. Yes, there she was, waving her +handkerchief to me; and there by her side stood her husband. + +It was a long, cold ordeal, while the ship was warped in. We could only +gaze at each other across the distance, and stamp our feet and beat our +hands. There were other friends waiting for the van Tuivers, I saw, +and so I held myself in the background, full of a thousand wild +speculations. How incredible that Sylvia, arriving with her husband, +should have summoned me to meet her! + +At last the gangway was let down, and the stream of passengers began +to flow. In time came the van Tuivers, and their friends gathered +to welcome them. I waited; and at last Sylvia came to me--outwardly +calm--but with her emotions in the pressure of her two hands. "Oh, Mary, +Mary!" she murmured. "I'm so glad to see you! I'm so glad to see you!" + +"What has happened?" I asked. + +Her voice went to a whisper. "I am leaving my husband." + +"Leaving your husband!" I stood, dumbfounded. + +"Leaving him for ever, Mary." + +"But--but----" I could not finish the sentence. My eyes moved to where +he stood, calmly chatting with his friends. + +"He insisted on coming back with me, to preserve appearances. He is +terrified of the gossip. He is going all the way home, and then leave +me." + +"Sylvia! What does it mean?" I whispered. + +"I can't tell you here. I want to come and see you. Are you living at +the same place?" + +I answered in the affirmative. + +"It's a long story," she added. "I must apologise for asking you to come +here, where we can't talk. But I did it for an important reason. I can't +make my husband really believe that I mean what I say; and you are my +Declaration of Independence!" And she laughed, but a trifle wildly, and +looking at her suddenly, I realized that she was keyed almost to the +breaking point. + +"You poor dear!" I murmured. + +"I wanted to show him that I meant what I said. I wanted him to see us +meet. You see, he's going home, thinking that with the help of my people +he can make me change my mind." + +"But why do you go home? Why not stay here with me? There's an apartment +vacant next to mine." + +"And with a baby?" + +"There are lots of babies in our tenement," I said. But to tell the +truth, I had almost forgotten the baby in the excitement of the moment. +"How is she," I asked. + +"Come and see," said Sylvia; and when I glanced enquiringly at the tall +gentleman who was chatting with his friends, she added, "She's _my_ +baby, and I have a right to show her." + +The nurse, a rosy-cheeked English girl in a blue dress and a bonnet with +long streamers, stood apart, holding an armful of white silk and lace. +Sylvia turned back the coverings; and again I beheld the vision which +had so thrilled me--the comical little miniature of herself--her nose, +her lips, her golden hair. But oh, the pitiful little eyes, that did not +move! I looked at my friend, uncertain what I should say; I was startled +to see her whole being aglow with mother-pride. "Isn't she a dear?" she +whispered. "And, Mary, she's learning so fast, and growing--you couldn't +believe it!" Oh, the marvel of mother-love, I thought--that is blinder +than any child it ever bore! + +We turned away; and Sylvia said, "I'll come to you as soon as I've got +the baby settled. Our train starts for the South to-night, so I shan't +waste any time." + +"God bless you, dear," I whispered; and she gave my hand a squeeze, and +turned away. I stood for a few moments watching, and saw her approach +her husband, and exchange a few smiling words with him in the presence +of their friends. I, knowing the agony that was in the hearts of that +desperate young couple, marvelled anew at the discipline of caste. + +9. She sat in my big arm-chair; and how proud I was of her, and +how thrilled by her courage. Above all, however, I was devoured by +curiosity. "Tell me!" I exclaimed. + +"There's so much," she said. + +"Tell me why you are leaving him." + +"Mary, because I don't love him. That's the one reason. I have thought +it out--I have thought of little else for the last year. I have come to +see that it is wrong for a woman to live with a man she does not love. +It is the supreme crime a woman can commit." + +"Ah, yes!" I said. "If you have got that far!" + +"I have got that far. Other things have contributed, but they are not +the real things--they might have been forgiven. The fact that he had +this disease, and made my child blind----" + +"Oh! You found out that?" + +"Yes, I found it out." + +"How?" + +"It came to me little by little. In the end, he grew tired of +pretending, I think." She paused for a moment, then went on, "The +trouble was over the question of my obligations as a wife. You see, I +had told him at the outset that I was going to live for my baby, and for +her alone. That was the ground upon which he had persuaded me not to see +you or read any of your letters. I was to ask no questions, and be nice +and bovine--and I agreed. But then, a few months ago, my husband came to +me with the story of his needs. He said that the doctors had given their +sanction to our reunion. Of course, I was stunned. I knew that he had +understood me before we left Florida." + +She stopped. "Yes, dear," I said, gently. + +"Well, he said now the doctors were agreed there was no danger to either +of us. We could take precautions and not have children. I could only +plead that the whole subject was distressing to me. He had asked me to +put off my problems till my baby was weaned; now I asked him to put off +his. But that would not do, it seemed. He took to arguing with me. It +was an unnatural way to live, and he could not endure it. I was a woman, +and I couldn't understand this. It seemed utterly impossible to make him +realize what I felt. I suppose he has always had what he wanted, and he +simply does not know what it is to be denied. It wasn't only a physical +thing, I think; it was an affront to his pride, a denial of his +authority." She stopped, and I saw her shudder. + +"I have been through it all," I said. + +"He wanted to know how long I expected to withhold myself. I said, +'Until I have got this disease out of my mind, as well as out of my +body; until I know that there is no possibility of either of us having +it, to give to the other.' But then, after I had taken a little more +time to think it over, I said, 'Douglas, I must be honest with you. I +shall never be able to live with you again. It is no longer a question +of your wishes or mine--it is a question of right or wrong. I do not +love you. I know now that it can never under any circumstances be right +for a woman to give herself in the intimacy of the sex-relation without +love. When she does it, she is violating the deepest instinct of her +nature, the very voice of God in her soul.' + +"His reply was, 'Why didn't you know that before you married?' + +"I answered, 'I did not know what marriage meant; and I let myself be +persuaded by others.' + +"'By your own mother!' he declared. + +"I said, 'A mother who permits her daughter to commit such an offence is +either a slave-dealer, or else a slave.' Of course, he thought I was +out of my mind at that. He argued about the duties of marriage, the +preserving of the home, wives submitting themselves to their husbands, +and so on. He would not give me any peace----" + +And suddenly she started up. I saw in her eyes the light of old battles. +"Oh, it was a horror!" she cried, beginning to pace the floor. "It +seemed to me that I was living the agony of all the loveless marriages +of the world. I felt myself pursued, not merely by the importunate +desires of one man--I suffered with all the millions of women who give +themselves night after night without love! He came to seem like some +monster to me; I could not meet him unexpectedly without starting. I +forbade him to mention the subject to me again, and for a long time he +obeyed. But several weeks ago he brought it up afresh, and I lost my +self-control completely. 'Douglas,' I said, 'I can stand it no longer! +It is not only the tragedy of my blind child--it's that you have driven +me to hate you. You have crushed all the life and joy and youth out of +me! You've been to me like a terrible black cloud, constantly pressing +down on me, smothering me. You stalk around me like a grim, sepulchral +figure, closing me up in the circle of your narrow ideas. But now I can +endure it no longer. I was a proud, high-spirited girl, you've made +of me a colourless social automaton, a slave of your stupid worldly +traditions. I'm turning into a feeble, complaining, discontented wife! +And I refuse to be it. I'm going home--where at least there's some human +spontaneity left in people; I'm going back to my father!'--And I went +and looked up the next steamer!" + +She stopped. She stood before me, with the fire of her wild Southern +blood shining in her cheeks and in her eyes. + +I sat waiting, and finally she went on, "I won't repeat all his +protests. When he found that I was really going, he offered to take me +in the yacht, but I wouldn't go in the yacht. I had got to be really +afraid of him--sometimes, you know, his obstinacy seems to be abnormal, +almost insane. So then he decided he would have to go in the steamer +with me to preserve appearances. I had a letter saying that papa was +not well, and he said that would serve for an excuse. He is going to +Castleman County, and after he has stayed a week or so, he is going off +on a hunting-trip, and not return." + +"And will he do it?" + +"I don't think he expects to do it at present. I feel sure he has the +idea of starting mamma to quoting the Bible to me, and dragging me down +with her tears. But I have done all I can to make clear to him that +it will make no difference. I told him I would not say a word about my +intentions at home until he had gone away, and that I expected the same +silence from him. But, of course--" She stopped abruptly, and after a +moment she asked: "What do you think of it, Mary?" + +I leaned forward and took her two hands in mine. "Only," I said, "that +I'm glad you fought it out alone! I knew it had to come--and I didn't +want to have to help you to decide!" + +10. She sat for a while absorbed in her own thoughts. Knowing her as I +did, I understood what intense emotions were seething within her, what a +terrific struggle her decision must have represented. + +"Dear Friend," she said, suddenly, "don't think I haven't seen his side +of the case. I try to tell myself that I dealt with him frankly from +the beginning. But then I ask was there ever a man I dealt with frankly? +There was coquetry in the very clothes I wore! And now that we are so +entangled, now that he loves me, what is my duty? I find I can't respect +his love for me. A part of it is because my beauty fascinates him, but +more of it seems to me just wounded vanity. I was the only woman who +ever flouted him, and he has a kind of snobbery that made him think I +must be something remarkable because of it. I talked that all out with +him--yes, I've dragged him through all that humiliation. I wanted to +make him see that he didn't really love me, that he only wanted to +conquer me, to force me to admire him and submit to him. I want to +be myself, and he wants to be himself--that has always been the issue +between us." + +"That is the issue in many unhappy marriages," I said. + +"I've done a lot of thinking in the last year," she resumed--"about +things generally, I mean. We American women think we are so free. That +is because our husbands indulge us, give us money, and let us run +about. But when it comes to real freedom--freedom of intellect and of +character, English women are simply another kind of being from us. I met +a cabinet minister's wife--he's a Conservative in everything, and she's +an ardent suffragist; she not merely gives money, she makes speeches and +has a public name. Yet they are friends, and have a happy home-life. Do +you suppose my husband would consider such an arrangement?" + +"I thought he admired English ways," I said. + +"There was the Honorable Betty Annersley--the sister of a chum of his. +She was friendly with the militants, and I wanted to talk to her to +understand what such women thought. Yet my husband tried to stop me from +going to see her. And it's the same way with everything I try to do, +that threatens to take me out of his power. He wanted me to accept +the authority of the doctors as to any possible danger from venereal +disease. When I got the books, and showed him what the doctors admitted +about the question--the narrow margin of safety they allowed, the +terrible chances they took--he was angry again." + +She stopped, seeing a question in my eyes. "I've been reading up on the +subject," she explained. "I know it all now--the things I should have +known before I married." + +"How did you manage that?" + +"I tried to get two of the doctors to give me something to read, but +they wouldn't hear of it. I'd set myself crazy imagining things, it was +no sort of stuff for a woman's mind. So in the end I took the bit in my +teeth. I found a medical book store, and I went in and said: 'I am +an American physician, and I want to see the latest works on venereal +disease.' So the clerk took me to the shelves, and I picked out a couple +of volumes." + +"You poor child!" I exclaimed. + +"When Douglas found that I was reading these books he threatened to +burn them. I told him 'There are more copies in the store, and I am +determined to be educated on this subject.'" + +She paused. "How much like my own experience!" I thought. + +"There were chapters on the subject of wives, how much they were not +told, and why this was. So very quickly I began to see around my own +experience. Douglas must have figured out that this would be so, for the +end of the matter was an admission." + +"You don't mean he confessed to you!" + +She smiled bitterly. "No," she said. "He brought Dr. Perrin to London to +do it for him. Dr. Perrin said he had concluded I had best know that my +husband had had some symptoms of the disease. He, the doctor, wished to +tell me who was to blame for the attempt to deceive me. Douglas had been +willing to admit the truth, but all the doctors had forbidden it. I must +realise the fearful problem they had, and not blame them, and, above all +I must not blame my husband, who had been in their hands in the matter." + +"How stupid men are! As if that would excuse him!" + +"I'm afraid I showed the little man how poor an impression he had +made--both for himself and for his patron. But I had suffered all there +was to suffer, and I was tired of pretending. I told him it would +have been far better for them if they had told me the truth at the +beginning." + +"Ah, yes!" I said. "That is what I tried to make them see; but all I got +for it was a sentence of deportation!" + +11. When Sylvia's train arrived at the station of her home town, the +whole family was waiting upon the platform for her, and a good part of +the town besides. The news that she had arrived in New York, and was +coming home on account of her father's illness, had, of course, been +reproduced in all the local papers, with the result that the worthy +major had been deluged with telegrams and letters concerning his health. +Notwithstanding, he had insisted upon coming to the train to meet his +daughter. He was not going to be shut up in a sickroom to please all the +gossips of two hemispheres. In his best black broad-cloth, his broad, +black hat newly brushed, and his old-fashioned, square-toed shoes newly +shined, he paced up and down the station platform for half an hour, and +it was to his arms that Sylvia flew when she alighted from the train. + +There was "Miss Margaret," who had squeezed her large person and +fluttering draperies out of the family automobile, and was waiting to +shed tears over her favourite daughter; there was Celeste, radiant with +a wonderful piece of news which she alone was to impart to her sister; +there were Peggy and Maria, shot up suddenly into two amazingly-gawky +girls; there was Master Castleman Lysle, the only son of the house, with +his black-eyed and bad-tempered French governess. And finally there was +Aunt Varina, palpitating with various agitations, not daring to whisper +to anyone else the fears which this sudden home-coming inspired in her. +Bishop Chilton and his wife were away, but a delegation of cousins had +come; also Uncle Mandeville Castleman had sent a huge bunch of roses, +which were in the family automobile, and Uncle Barry Chilton had sent a +pair of wild turkeys, which were soon to be in the family. + +Behind Sylvia stalked her cold and haughty husband, and behind him +tripped the wonderful nursemaid, with her wonderful blue streamers, and +her wonderful bundle of ruffles and lace. All the huge family had to +fall upon Sylvia and kiss and embrace her rapturously, and shake the +hand of the cold and haughty husband, and peer into the wonderful +bundle, and go into ecstasies over its contents. Rarely, indeed, did the +great ones of this earth condescend to spread so much of their emotional +life before the public gaze; and was it any wonder that the town crowded +about, and the proprieties were temporarily repealed? + +It had never been published, but it was generally known throughout the +State that Sylvia's child was blind, and it was whispered that this +portended something strange and awful. So there hung about the young +mother and the precious bundle an atmosphere of mystery and melancholy. +How had she taken her misfortune? How had she taken all the great events +that had befallen her--her progress through the courts and camps of +Europe? Would she still condescend to know her fellow-townsmen? Many +were the hearts that beat high as she bestowed her largess of smiles +and friendly words. There were even humble old negroes who went off +enraptured to tell the town that "Mi' Sylvia" had actually shaken hands +with them. There was almost a cheer from the crowd as the string of +automobiles set out for Castleman Hall. + +12. There was a grand banquet that evening, at which the turkeys entered +the family. Not in years had there been so many people crowded into the +big dining-room, nor so many servants treading upon each other's toes in +the kitchen. + +Such a din of chatter and laughter! Sylvia was her old radiant self, and +her husband was quite evidently charmed by the patriarchal scene. He +was affable, really genial, and won the hearts of everybody; he told +the good major, amid a hush which almost turned his words into a speech, +that he was able to understand how they of the South loved their +own section so passionately; there was about the life an intangible +something--a spell, an elevation of spirit, which set it quite apart +by itself. And since this was the thing which they of the South most +delighted to believe concerning themselves, they listened enraptured, +and set the speaker apart as a rare and discerning spirit. + +Afterwards came the voice of Sylvia: "You must beware of Douglas, Papa; +he is an inveterate flatterer." She laughed as she said it; and of those +present it was Aunt Varina alone who caught the ominous note, and saw +the bitter curl of her lips as she spoke. Aunt Varina and her niece +were the only persons there who knew Douglas van Tuiver well enough to +appreciate the irony of the term "inveterate flatterer." + +Sylvia realized at once that her husband was setting out upon a campaign +to win her family to his side. He rode about the major's plantations, +absorbing information about the bollweevil. He rode back to the house, +and exchanged cigars, and listened to stories of the major's boyhood +during the war. He went to call upon Bishop Chilton, and sat in his +study, with its walls of faded black volumes on theology. Van Tuiver +himself had had a Church of England tutor, and was a punctilious high +churchman; but he listened respectfully to arguments for a simpler +form of church organization, and took away a voluminous _expos_ of +the fallacies of "Apostolic Succession." And then came Aunt Nannie, +ambitious and alert as when she had helped the young millionaire to find +a wife; and the young millionaire made the suggestion that Aunt Nannie's +third daughter should not fail to visit Sylvia at Newport. + +There was no limit, apparently, to what he would do. He took Master +Castleman Lysle upon his knee, and let him drop a valuable watch upon +the floor. He got up early in the morning and went horse-back riding +with Peggy and Maria. He took Celeste automobiling, and helped by his +attentions to impress the cocksure young man with whom Celeste was in +love. He won "Miss Margaret" by these attentions to all her children, +and the patience with which he listened to accounts of the ailments +which had afflicted the precious ones at various periods of their lives. +To Sylvia, watching all these proceedings, it was as if he were binding +himself to her with so many knots. + +She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone. +But this could not be, she discovered. There was gossip about the +child's blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into +hiding would have meant an admission of the worst. The ladies of the +family had prepared a grand "reception," at which all Castleman County +was to come and gaze upon the happy mother. And then there was the +monthly dance at the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the +hope of seeing the royal pair. To Sylvia it was as if her mother and +aunts were behind her every minute of the day, pushing her out into the +world. "Go on, go on! Show yourself! Do not let people begin to talk!" + +13. She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, +Harley Chilton. "Harley," she said, "my husband is anxious to go on a +hunting-trip. Will you go with him?" + +"When?" asked the boy. + +"Right away; to-morrow or the next day." + +"I'm game," said Harley. + +After which she went to her husband. "Douglas, it is time for you to +go." + +He sat studying her face. "You still have that idea?" he said, at last. + +"I still have it." + +"I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would +partially return." + +"I know what you have been hoping, Douglas. And I am sorry--but I am +quite unchanged." + +"Have we not been getting along happily here?" he demanded. + +"No, I have not--I have been wretched. And I cannot have any peace until +you no longer haunt me. I am sorry for you, but I must be alone--and so +long as you are here the entertainments will continue." + +"We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments. We +could find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in +peace." + +"Douglas," she said, "I have spoken to Cousin Harley. He is ready to +go hunting with you. Please call him up and make arrangements to start +to-morrow. If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for +one of Uncle Mandeville's plantations." + +There was a long silence. "Sylvia," he said, at last, "how long do you +imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?" + +"It will continue forever. My mind is made up. It is necessary that you +make up yours." + +Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control. "You propose to +keep the baby with you?" he asked, at last. + +"For the present, yes. The baby cannot get along without me." + +"And for the future?" + +"We will make a fair arrangement as to that. Give me a little time to +get myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in +New York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often +as you please. I have no desire to take her from you--I only want to +take myself from you." + +"Sylvia," he said, "have you realized all the unhappiness this course of +yours is going to bring to your people?" + +"Oh, don't begin that now!" she pleaded. + +"I know," he said, "how determined you are to punish me. But I should +think you would try to find some way to spare them." + +"Douglas," she replied, "I know exactly what you have been doing. I have +watched your change of character since you came here. You may be able +to make my people so unhappy that I must be unhappy also. You see how +deeply I love them, how I yield everything for love of them. But let me +make it clear, I will not yield this. It was for their sake I went into +this marriage, but I have come to see that it was wrong, and no power on +earth can induce me to stay in it. My mind is made up--I will not live +with a man I do not love. I will not even pretend to do it. Now do you +understand me, Douglas?" + +There was a silence, while she waited for some word from him. When none +came, she asked, "You will arrange to go to-morrow?" + +He answered calmly, "I see no reason why I, your husband, should permit +you to pursue this insane course. You propose to leave me; and the +reason you give is one that would, if it were valid, break up two-thirds +of the homes in the country. Your own family will stand by me in my +effort to prevent your ruin." + +"What do you expect to do?" she asked in a suppressed voice. + +"I have to assume that my wife is insane; and I shall look after her +till she comes to her senses." + +She sat watching him for a few moments, wondering at him. Then she said, +"You are willing to stay on here, day after day, pursuing me in the only +refuge I have. Well then, I shall not consider your feelings. I have a +work to do here--and I think that when I begin it, you will want to be +far away." + +"What do you mean?" he asked--and he looked at her as if she were really +a maniac. + +"You see my sister Celeste is about to marry. That was the wonderful +news she had to tell me at the depot. It happens that I have known Roger +Peyton all my life, and know he has the reputation of being one of the +'fastest' boys in the town." + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Just this, Douglas--I do not intend to leave my sister unprotected as +I was. I am going to tell her about Elaine. I am going to tell her +all that she needs to know. It is bound to mean arguments with the old +people, and in the end the whole family will be discussing the subject. +I feel sure you will not care to be here under such circumstances." + +"And may I ask when this begins?" he inquired, with intense bitterness +in his tone. + +"Right away," she said. "I have merely been waiting until you should +go." + +He said not a word, but she knew by the expression on his face that she +had carried her point at last. He turned and left the room; and that +was the last word she had with him, save for their formal parting in the +presence of the family. + +14. Roger Peyton was the son and heir of one of the oldest families +in Castleman County. I had heard of this family before--in a wonderful +story that Sylvia told of the burning of "Rose Briar," their stately +mansion, some years previously: how the neighbours had turned out to +extinguish the flames, and failing, had danced a last whirl in the +ball-room, while the fire roared in the stories overhead. The house had +since been rebuilt, more splendid than ever, and the prestige of +the family stood undiminished. One of the sons was an old "flame" of +Sylvia's, and another was married to one of the Chilton girls. As for +Celeste, she had been angling for Roger the past year or two, and she +stood now at the apex of happiness. + +Sylvia went to her father, to talk with him about the difficult subject +of venereal disease. The poor major had never expected to live to hear +such a discourse from a daughter of his; however, with the blind child +under his roof, he could not find words to stop her. "But, Sylvia," +he protested, "what reason have you to suspect such a thing of Roger +Peyton?" + +"I have the reason of his life. You know that he has the reputation of +being 'fast'; you know that he drinks, you know that I once refused to +speak to him because he danced with me when he was drunk." + +"My child, all the men you know have sowed their wild oats." + +"Papa, you must not take advantage of me in such a discussion. I don't +claim to know what sins may be included in the phrase 'wild oats.' Let +us speak frankly--can you say that you think it unlikely that Roger +Peyton has been unchaste?" + +The major hesitated and coughed; finally he said: "The boy drinks, +Sylvia; further than that I have no knowledge." + +"The medical books tell me that the use of alcohol tends to break down +self-control, and to make continence impossible. And if that be true, +you must admit that we have a right to ask assurances. What do you +suppose that Roger and his crowd are doing when they go roistering about +the streets at night? What do they do when they go off to Mardi Gras? +Or at college--you know that Cousin Clive had to get him out of trouble +several times. Go and ask Clive if Roger has ever been exposed to the +possibility of these diseases." + +"My child," said the major, "Clive would not feel he had the right to +tell me such things about his friend." + +"Not even when the friend wants to marry his cousin?" + +"But such questions are not asked, my daughter." + +"Papa, I have thought this matter out carefully, and I hava something +definite to propose to you. I have no idea of stopping with what Clive +Chilton may or may not see fit to tell about his chum. I want _you_ to +go to Roger." + +Major Castleman's face wore a blank stare. + +"If he's going to marry your daughter, you have the right to ask about +his past. What I want you to tell him is that you will get the name of a +reputable specialist in these diseases, and that before he can have your +daughter he must present you with a letter from this man, to the effect +that he is fit to marry." + +The poor major was all but speechless. "My child, who ever heard of such +a proposition?" + +"I don't know that any one ever did, papa. But it seems to me time they +should begin to hear of it; and I don't see who can have a better right +to take the first step than you and I, who have paid such a dreadful +price for our neglect." + +Sylvia had been prepared for opposition--the instinctive opposition +which men manifest to having this embarrassing subject dragged out into +the light of day. Even men who have been chaste themselves--good fathers +of families like the major--cannot be unaware of the complications +incidental to frightening their women-folk, and setting up an impossibly +high standard in sons-in-law. But Sylvia stood by her guns; at last she +brought her father to his knees by the threat that if he could not bring +himself to talk with Roger Peyton, she, Sylvia Castleman, would do it. + +15. The young suitor came by appointment the next day, and had a session +with the Major in his office. After he had gone, Sylvia went to her +father and found him pacing the floor, with an extinct cigar between his +lips, and several other ruined cigars lying on the hearth. + +"You asked him, papa?" + +"I did, Sylvia." + +"And what did he say?" + +"Why, daughter----" The major flung his cigar from him with desperate +energy. "It was most embarrassing!" he exclaimed--"most painful!" His +pale old face was crimson with blushes. + +"Go on, papa," said Sylvia, gentle but firm. + +"The poor boy--naturally, Sylvia, he could not but feel hurt that I +should think it necessary to ask such questions. Such things are not +done, my child. It seemed to him that I must look upon him as--well, as +much worse than other young fellows----" + +The old man stopped, and began to walk restlessly up and down. "Yes, +papa," said Sylvia. "What else?" + +"Well, he said it seemed to him that such a matter might have been left +to the honour of a man whom I was willing to think of as a son-in-law. +And you see, my child, what an embarrassing position I was in; I could +not give him any hint as to my reason for being anxious about these +matters--anything, you understand, that might be to the discredit of +your husband." + +"Go on, papa." + +"Well, I gave him a fatherly talking to about his way of life." + +"Did you ask him the definite question as to his health?" + +"No, Sylvia." + +"Did he tell you anything definite?" + +"No." + +"Then you didn't do what you had set out to do!" + +"Yes, I did. I told him that he must see a doctor." + +"You made quite clear to him what you wanted?" + +"Yes, I did--really, I did." + +"And what did he say?" She went to him and took his arm and led him to a +couch. "Come, papa, let us get to the facts. You must tell me." They sat +down, and the major sighed, lit a fresh cigar, rolled it about in his +fingers until it was ruined, and then flung it away. + +"Boys don't talk freely to older men," he said. "They really never do. +You may doubt this----" + +"What did he _say,_ papa?" + +"Why, he didn't know what to say. He didn't really say anything." And +here the major came to a complete halt. + +His daughter, after studying his face for a minute, remarked, "In plain +words, papa, you think he has something to hide, and he may not be able +to give you the evidence you asked?" + +The other was silent. + +"You fear that is the situation, but you are trying not to believe it." +As he still said nothing, Sylvia whispered, "Poor Celeste!" + +Suddenly she put her hands upon his shoulders, and looked into his eye. +"Papa, can't you see what that means--that Celeste ought to have been +told these things long ago?" + +"What good would that have done?" he asked, in bewilderment. + +"She could have known what kind of man she was choosing; and she might +be spared the dreadful unhappiness that is before her now." + +"Sylvia! Sylvia!" protested the other. "Surely such things cannot be +discussed with innocent young girls!" + +"So long as we refuse to do it, we are simply entering into a conspiracy +with the man of loose life, so that he may escape the worst penalty of +his evil-doing. Take the boys in our own set--why is it they feel safe +in running off to the big cities and 'sowing their wild oats'--even +sowing them in the obscure parts of their own town? Is it not because +they know that their sisters and girl friends are ignorant and +helpless; so that when they are ready to pick a wife, they will be at no +disadvantage? Here is Celeste; she knows that Roger has been 'wild,' but +no one has hinted to her what that means; she thinks of things that +are picturesque--that he's high-spirited, and brave, and free with his +money." + +"But, my daughter," protested the major, "such knowledge would have a +terrible effect upon young girls!" He rose and began to pace the floor +again. "Daughter, you are letting yourself run wild! The sweetness, the +virginal innocence of young and pure women--if you take that from +them, there'd be nothing left to keep men from falling to the level of +brutes!" + +"Papa," said Sylvia, "all that sounds well, but it has no meaning. I +have been robbed of my 'innocence,' and I know that it has not debased +me. It has only fitted me to deal with the realities of life. And it +will do the same for any girl who is taught by earnest and reverent +people. Now, as it is, we have to tell Celeste, but we tell her too +late." + +"But we _won't_ have to tell her!" cried the major. + +"Dear papa, please explain how we can avoid telling her." + +"I will inform her that she must give the young man up. She is a good +and dutiful daughter----" + +"Yes," replied Sylvia, "but suppose on this one occasion she were to +fail to be good and dutiful? Suppose the next day you learn that she had +run away and married Roger--what would you do about it then?" + +16. That evening Roger was to take his _fiance_ to one of the young +people's dances. And there was Celeste, in a flaming red dress, with +a great bunch of flaming roses; she could wear these colours, with her +brilliant black hair and gorgeous complexion. Roger was fair, with a +frank, boyish face, and they made a pretty couple; but that evening +Roger did not come. Sylvia helped to dress her sister, and then watched +her wandering restlessly about the hall, while the hour came and went. +Later in the evening Major Castleman called up the Peyton home. The boy +was not there, and no one seemed to know where he was. + +Nor the next day did there come any explanation. At the Peytons it was +still declared that no one had heard from Roger, and for another day +the mystery continued, to Celeste's distress and mortification. At +last, from Clive Chilton, Sylvia managed to extract the truth. Roger +was drunk--crazy drunk, and had been taken off by some of the boys to be +straightened out. + +Of course this rumour soon got to the rest of the family and they had +to tell Celeste, because she was frantic with anxiety. There were grave +consultations among the Castleman ladies. It was a wanton affront to his +_fiance_ that the boy had committed, and something must be done about +it quickly. Then came the news that Roger had escaped from his warders, +and got drunker than ever; he had been out at night, smashing the street +lamps, and it had required extreme self-control on the part of the town +police force to avoid complications. + +"Miss Margaret" went to her young daughter, and in a tear-flooded +scene informed her of the opinion of the family, that her self-respect +required the breaking of the engagement. Celeste went into hysterics. +She would _not_ have her happiness ruined for life! Roger was "wild," +but so were all the other boys--and he would atone for his recklessness. +She had the idea that if only she could get hold of him, she could +recall him to his senses; the more her mother was scandalised by this +proposal, the more frantically Celeste wept. She shut herself up in +her room, refusing to appear at meals, and spending her time pacing the +floor and wringing her hands. + +The family had been through all this with their eldest daughter several +years before, but they had not learned to handle it any better. The +whole household was in a state of distraction, and the conditions grew +worse day by day, as bulletins came in concerning the young man. He +seemed to have gone actually insane. He was not to be restrained even by +his own father, and if the unfortunate policemen could be believed, he +had violently attacked them. Apparently he was trying to break down the +unwritten law that the sons of the "best families" are not arrested. + +Poor Celeste, with pale, tear-drenched face, sent for her elder sister, +to make one last appeal. Could Sylvia not somehow get hold of Roger and +bring him to his senses? Could she not interview some of the other boys, +and find out what he meant by his conduct? + +So Sylvia went to her cousin Clive, and had a talk with him--assuredly +the most remarkable talk that that young man had ever had in his life. +She told him that she wanted to know the truth about Roger Peyton, +and after a cross-examination that would have made the reputation of a +criminal lawyer, she got what she wanted. All the young men in town, it +seemed, knew the true state of affairs, and were in a panic concerning +it; that Major Castleman had sent for Roger and informed him that +he could not marry his daughter, until he produced a certain kind of +medical certificate. No, he couldn't produce it! Was there a fellow in +town who could produce it? What was there for him to do but to get drunk +and stay drunk, until Celeste had cast him off? + +It was Clive's turn then to do some plain speaking. "Look here, Sylvia," +he said, "since you have made me talk about this----" + +"Yes, Clive?" + +"Do you know what people are saying--I mean the reason the Major made +this proposition to Roger?" + +She answered, in a quiet voice: "I suppose, Clive, it has something to +do with Elaine." + +"Yes, exactly!" exclaimed Clive. "They say--" But then he stopped. He +could not repeat it. "Surely you don't want that kind of talk, Sylvia?" + +"Naturally, Clive, I'd prefer to escape that kind of talk, but my fear +of it will not make me neglect the protection of my sister." + +"But Sylvia," cried the boy, "you don't understand about this! A woman +_can't_ understand about these things----" + +"You are mistaken, my dear cousin," said Sylvia--and her voice was firm +and decisive. "I _do_ understand." + +"All right!" cried Clive, with sudden exasperation. "But let me tell +you this--Celeste is going to have a hard time getting any other man to +propose to her!" + +"You mean, Clive, because so many of them are----?" + +"Yes, if you must put it that way," he said. + +There was a pause, then Sylvia went on: "Let us discuss the practical +problem, Clive. Don't you think it would have been better if Roger, +instead of going off and getting drunk, had set about getting himself +cured?" + +The other looked at her, with evident surprise. "You mean in that case +Celeste might marry him?" + +"You say the boys are all alike, Clive; and we can't turn our girls into +nuns. Why didn't some of you fellows point that out to Roger?" + +"The truth is," said Clive, "we tried to." There was a little more +cordiality in his manner, since Sylvia had shown such a unexpected +amount of intelligence. + +"Well?" she asked. "What then?" + +"Why, he wouldn't listen to anything." + +"You mean--because he was drunk?" + +"No, we had him nearly sober. But you see--" And Clive paused for +a moment, painfully embarrassed. "The truth is, Roger had been to a +doctor, and been told it might take him a year or two to get cured." + +"Clive!" she cried. "Clive! And you mean that in the face of that, he +proposed to go on and marry?" + +"Well, Sylvia, you see--" And the young man hesitated still longer. He +was crimson with embarrassment, and suddenly he blurted out: "The truth +is, the doctor told him to marry. That was the only way he'd ever get +cured." + +Sylvia was almost speechless. "Oh! Oh!" she cried, "I can't believe +you!" + +"That's what the doctors tell you, Sylvia. You don't understand--it's +just as I told you, a woman can't understand. It's a question of a man's +nature----" + +"But Clive--what about the wife and her health? Has the wife no rights +whatever?" + +"The truth is, Sylvia, people don't take this disease with such +desperate seriousness. You understand, it isn't the one that everybody +knows is dangerous. It doesn't do any real harm----" + +"Look at Elaine! Don't you call that real harm?" + +"Yes, but that doesn't happen often, and they say there are ways it can +be prevented. Anyway, fellows just can't help it! God knows we'd help it +if we could." + +Sylvia thought for a moment, and then came back to the immediate +question. "It's evident what Roger could do in this case. He is young, +and Celeste is still younger. They might wait a couple of years and +Roger might take care of himself, and in time it might be properly +arranged." + +But Clive did not seem too warm to the proposition, and Sylvia, who knew +Roger Peyton, was not long in making out the reason. "You mean you don't +think he has character enough to keep straight for a year or two?" + +"To tell you the honest truth, we talked it out with him, and he +wouldn't make any promises." + +To which Sylvia answered: "Very well, Clive--that settles it. You can +help me find some man for Celeste who loves her a little more than +that!" + +17. That afternoon came Aunt Nannie, the Bishop's wife, in shining +chestnut-coloured silk to match a pair of shining chestnut-coloured +horses. Other people, it appeared, had been making inquiries into Roger +Peyton's story, and other people besides Clive Chilton had been telling +the truth. Aunt Nannie gathered the ladies of the family in a hurried +conference, and Sylvia was summoned to appear before it--quite as in the +days of her affair with Frank Shirley. + +"Miss Margaret" and Aunt Varina were solemn and frightened, as of old; +and, as of old, Aunt Nannie did the talking. "Sylvia, do you know what +people are saying about you?" + +"Yes, Aunt Nannie" said Sylvia. + +"Oh, you do know?" + +"Yes, of course. And I knew in advance that they would say it." + +Something about the seraphic face of Sylvia, chastened by terrible +suffering, must have suggested to Mrs. Chilton the idea of caution. +"Have you thought of the humiliation this must inflict upon your +relatives?" + +"I have found, Aunt Nannie," said Sylvia, "that there are worse +afflictions than being talked about." + +"I am not sure," declared the other, "that anything could be worse than +to be the object of the kind of gossip that is now seething around +our family. It has been the tradition of our people to bear their +afflictions in silence." + +"In this case, Aunt Nannie, it is obvious that silence would have meant +more afflictions, many more. I have thought of my sister--and of all the +other girls in our family, who may be led to sacrifice by the ambitions +of their relatives." Sylvia paused a moment, so that her words might +have effect. + +Said the bishop's wife: "Sylvia, we cannot undertake to save the world +from the results of its sins. God has his own ways of punishing men." + +"Perhaps so, but surely God does not wish the punishment to fall upon +innocent young girls. For instance, Aunt Nannie, think of your own +daughters----" + +"My daughters!" broke out Mrs. Chilton. And then, mastering her +excitement: "At least, you will permit me to look after my own +children." + +"I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich +came into the room last night. Have you noticed anything?" + +"Yes--what of it?" + +"It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom." + +"Why should she not? I certainly consider him an eligible man." + +"And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton's set. +You know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, +and you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him! You have taken no +steps to find out about him--you have not warned your daughter--" + +Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation. "Warned my daughter! Who ever +heard of such a thing?" + +Said Sylvia, quietly: "I can believe that you never heard of it--but you +will hear soon. The other day I had a talk with Lucy May--" + +"Sylvia Castleman!" And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself +that she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic. "Sylvia," she said, in a +suppressed voice, "you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my +young daughter's mind--" + +"You have brought her up well," said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for +lack of words. "She did not want to listen to me. She said that young +girls ought not to know about such matters. But I pointed out Elaine, +and then she changed her mind--just as you will have to change yours in +the end, Aunt Nannie." + +Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving. Then suddenly +she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman. "Margaret, cannot you +stop this shocking business? I demand that the tongues of gossip shall +no longer clatter around the family of which I am a member! My husband +is the bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name +is of no importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and +authority of the church may have some weight----" + +"Aunt Nannie," interrupted Sylvia, "it will do no good to drag Uncle +Basil into this matter. I fear you will have to face the fact that from +this time on your authority in our family is to be diminished. You had +more to do than any other person with driving me into the marriage that +has wrecked my life, and now you want to go on and do the same thing for +my sister and for your own daughters--to marry them with no thought of +anything save the social position of the man. And in the same way you +are saving up your sons to find rich girls. You know that you kept +Clive from marrying a poor girl in this town a couple of years ago--and +meantime it seems to be nothing to you that he's going with men like +Roger Peyton and Tom Aldrich, learning all the vices the women in the +brothels have to teach him----" + +Poor "Miss Margaret" had several times made futile efforts to check +her daughter's outburst. Now she and Aunt Varina started up at the same +time. "Sylvia! Sylvia! You must not talk like that to your aunt!" + +And Sylvia turned and gazed at them with her sad eyes. "From now on," +she said, "that is the way I am going to talk. You are a lot of ignorant +children. I was one too, but now I know. And I say to you: Look at +Elaine! Look at my little one, and see what the worship of Mammon has +done to one of the daughters of your family!" + +18. After this, Sylvia had her people reduced to a state of terror. She +was an avenging angel, sent by the Lord to punish them for their sins. +How could one rebuke the unconventionality of an avenging angel? On the +other hand, of course, one could not help being in agony, and letting +the angel see it in one's face. Outside, there were the tongues of +gossip clattering, as Aunt Nannie had said; quite literally everyone +in Castleman County was talking about the blindness of Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver's baby, and how, because of it, the mother was setting out on +a campaign to destroy the modesty of the State. The excitement, the +curiosity, the obscene delight of the world came rolling back into +Castleman Hall in great waves, that picked up the unfortunate inmates +and buffeted them about. + +Family consultations were restricted, because it was impossible for +the ladies of the family to talk to the gentlemen about these horrible +things; but the ladies talked to the ladies, and the gentlemen talked to +the gentlemen, and each came separately to Sylvia with their distress. +Poor, helpless "Miss Margaret" would come wringing her hands, and +looking as if she had buried all her children. "Sylvia! Sylvia! Do you +realise that you are being DISCUSSED?" That was the worst calamity +that could befal a woman in Castleman County--it summed up all +possible calamities that could befal her--to be "discussed." "They were +discussing you once when you wanted to marry Frank Shirley! And now--oh, +now they will never stop discussing you!" + +Then would come the dear major. He loved his eldest daughter as he loved +nothing else in the world, and he was a just man at heart. He could not +meet her arguments--yes, she was right, she was right. But then he would +go away, and the waves of scandal and shame would come rolling. + +"My child," he pleaded, "have you thought what this thing is doing to +your husband? Do you realise that while you talk about protecting +other people, you are putting upon Douglas a brand that will follow him +through life?" + +Uncle Mandeville came up from New Orleans to see his favourite niece; +and the wave smote him as he alighted from the train, and he became so +much excited that he went to the club and got drunk, and then could not +see his niece, but had to be carried off upstairs and given forcible +hypodermics. Cousin Clive told Sylvia about it afterwards--how Uncle +Mandeville refused to believe the truth, and swore that he would shoot +some of these fellows if they didn't stop talking about his niece. Said +Clive, with a grim laugh: "I told him: 'If Sylvia had her way, you'd +shoot a good part of the men in the town.'" He answered: "Well, by God, +I'll do it--it would serve the scoundrels right!" And he tried to get +out of bed and get his pants and his pistols--so that in the end it was +necessary to telephone for the major, and then for Barry Chilton and two +of his gigantic sons from their plantation. + +Sylvia had her way, and talked things out with the agonised Celeste. +And the next day came Aunt Varina, hardly able to contain herself. +"Oh, Sylvia, such a horrible thing! To hear such words coming from your +little sister's lips--like the toads and snakes in the fairy story! To +think of these ideas festering in a young girl's brain!" And then again: +"Sylvia, your sister declares she will never go to a party again! +You are teaching her to hate men! You will make her a STRONG-MINDED +woman!"--that was another phrase they had summing up a whole universe +of horrors. Sylvia could not recall a time when she had not heard that +warning. "Be careful, dear, when you express an opinion, always end +it with a question: 'Don't you think so?' or something like that, +otherwise, men may get the idea that you are 'STRONG-MINDED'!" + +Sylvia, in her girlhood, had heard vague hints and rumours which now she +was able to interpret in the light of her experience. In her courtship +days she had met a man who always wore gloves, even in the hottest +weather, and she had heard that this was because of some affliction +of the skin. Now, talking with the young matrons of her own set, she +learned that this man had married, and had since had to take to a +wheel-chair, while his wife had borne a child with a monstrous deformed +head, and had died of the ordeal and the shock. + +Oh, the stories that one uncovered--right in one's own town, among one's +own set--like foul sewers underneath the pavements! The succession of +deceased generations, of imbeciles, epileptics, paralytics! The innocent +children born to a life-time of torment; the women hiding their secret +agonies from the world! Sometimes women went all through life without +knowing the truth about themselves. There was poor Mrs. Valens, for +example, who reclined all day upon the gallery of one of the most +beautiful homes in the county, and showed her friends the palms of her +hands, all covered with callouses and scales, exclaiming: "What in +the world do you suppose can be the matter with me?" She had been a +beautiful woman, a "belle" of "Miss Margaret's" day; she had married a +man who was rich and handsome and witty--and a rake. Now he was drunk +all the time, and two of his children had died in hospital, and another +had arms that came out of joint, and had to be put in plaster of Paris +for months at a time. His wife, the one-time darling of society, would +lie on her couch and read the Book of Job until she knew it by heart. + +And could you believe it, when Sylvia came home, ablaze with excitement +over the story, she found that the only thing that her relatives +were able to see in it was the Book of Job! Under the burden of her +afflictions the woman had become devout; and how could anyone fail to +see in this the deep purposes of Providence revealed? "Verily," said +"Miss Margaret," "'whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.' We are told in +the Lord's Word that 'the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon +the children, even unto the third and fourth generations,' and do you +suppose the Lord would have told us that, if He had not known there +would be such children?" + +19. I cannot pass over this part of my story without bringing forward +Mrs. Armistead, the town cynic, who constituted herself one of Sylvia's +sources of information in the crisis. Mrs. Sallie Ann Armistead was +the mother of two boys with whom Sylvia, as a child, had insisted upon +playing, in spite of the protests of the family. "Wha' fo' you go wi' +dem Armistead chillun, Mi' Sylvia?" would cry Aunt Mandy, the cook. +"Doan' you know they granddaddy done pick cottin in de fiel' 'long o' +me?" But while her father was picking cotton, Sallie Ann had looked +after her complexion and her figure, and had married a rising young +merchant. Now he was the wealthy proprietor of a chain of "nigger +stores," and his wife was the possessor of the most dreaded tongue in +Castleman County. + +She was a person who, if she had been born a duchess, would have made +a reputation in history; the one woman in the county who had a mind +and was not afraid to have it known. She used all the tricks of a +duchess--lorgnettes, for example, with which she stared people into +a state of fright. She did not dare try anything like that on the +Castlemans, of course, but woe to the little people who crossed her +path! She had an eye that sought out every human weakness, and such a +wit that even her victims were fascinated. One of the legends about her +told how her dearest foe, a dashing young matron, had died, and all the +friends had gathered with their floral tributes. Sallie Ann went in to +review the remains, and when she came out a sentimental voice inquired: +"And how does our poor Ruth look?" + +"Oh," was the answer, "as old and grey as ever!" + +Now Mrs. Armistead stopped Sylvia in the street: "My dear, how goes the +eugenics campaign?" + +And while Sylvia gazed, dumbfounded, the other went on as if she were +chatting about the weather: "You can't realise what a stir you are +making in our little frog pond. Come, see me, and let me tell you the +gossip! Do you know you've enriched our vocabulary?" + +"I have made someone look up the meaning of eugenics, at least," +answered Sylvia--having got herself together in haste. + +"Oh, not only that, my dear. You have made a new medical term--the 'van +Tuiver disease.' Isn't that interesting?" + +For a moment Sylvia shrivelled before this flame from hell. But then, +being the only person who had ever been able to chain this devil, she +said: "Indeed? I hope that with so fashionable a name the disease does +not become an epidemic!" + +Mrs. Armistead gazed at her, and then, in a burst of enthusiasm, she +exclaimed: "Sylvia Castleman, I have always insisted that one of the +most interesting women in the world was spoiled by the taint of goodness +in you." + +She took Sylvia to her bosom, as it were. "Let us sit on the fence and +enjoy this spectacle! My dear, you can have no idea what an uproar you +are making! The young married women gather in their boudoirs and whisper +ghastly secrets to each other; some of them are sure they have it, and +some of them say they can trust their husbands--as if any man could be +trusted as far as you can throw a bull by the horns! Did you hear +about poor Mrs. Pattie Peyton, she has the measles, but she sent for a +specialist, and vowed she had something else--she had read about it, and +knew all the symptoms, and insisted on having elaborate blood-tests! And +little Mrs. Stanley Pendleton has left her husband, and everybody says +that's the reason. The men are simply shivering in their boots--they +steal into the doctor's offices by the back-doors, and a whole car-load +of the boys have been shipped off to Hot Springs to be boiled--" And +so on, while Mrs. Armistead revelled in the sensation of strolling down +Main Street with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + +Then Sylvia would go home, and get the newest reactions of the family +to these horrors. Aunt Nannie, it seemed, made the discovery that Basil, +junr., her fifth son, was carrying on an intrigue with a mulatto girl +in the town; and she forbade him to go to Castleman Hall, for fear lest +Sylvia should worm the secret out of him; also she shipped Lucy May off +to visit a friend, and came and tried to persuade Mrs. Chilton to do +the same with Peggy and Maria, lest Sylvia should somehow corrupt these +children. + +The bishop came, having been ordered to preach religion to his wayward +niece. Poor dear Uncle Basil--he had tried preaching religion to Sylvia +many years ago, and never could do it because he loved her so well that +with all his Seventeenth Century theology he could not deny her chance +of salvation. Now the first sight that met his eyes when he came to +see her was his little blind grand-niece. And also he had in his secret +heart the knowledge that he, a rich and gay young planter before he +became converted to Methodism, had played with the fire of vice, and +been badly burned. So Sylvia did not find him at all the Voice of +Authority, but just a poor, hen-pecked, unhappy husband of a tyrannous +Castleman woman. + +The next thing was that "Miss Margaret" took up the notion that a time +such as this was not one for Sylvia's husband to be away from her. +What if people were to say that they had separated? There were family +consultations, and in the midst of them there came word that van Tuiver +was called North upon business. When the family delegations came to +Sylvia, to insist that she go with him, the answer they got was that +if they could not let her stay quietly at home without asking her any +questions, she would go off to New York and live with a divorced woman +Socialist! + +"Of course, they gave up," she wrote me. "And half an hour ago poor dear +mamma came to my room and said: 'Sylvia, dear, we will let you do what +you want, but won't you please do one small favour for me?' I got ready +for trouble, and asked what she wanted. Her answer was: 'Won't you go +with Celeste to the Young Matrons' Cotillion tomorrow night, so that +people won't think there's anything the matter?'" + +20. Roger Peyton had gone off to Hot Springs, and Douglas van Tuiver was +in New York; so little by little the storms about Castleman Hall began +to abate in violence. Sylvia was absorbed with her baby, and beginning +to fit her life into that of her people. She found many ways in which +she could serve them--entertaining Uncle Mandeville to keep him sober; +checking the extravagrance of Celeste; nursing Castleman Lysle through +green apple convulsions. That was to be her life for the future, she +told herself, and she was making herself really happy in it--when +suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, came an event that swept her poor +little plans into chaos. + +It was an afternoon in March, the sun was shining brightly and the +Southern springtime was in full tide, and Sylvia had had the old family +carriage made ready, with two of the oldest and gentlest family horses, +and took the girls upon a shopping expedition to town. In the front seat +sat Celeste, driving, with two of her friends, and in the rear seat was +Sylvia, with Peggy and Maria. When an assemblage of allurements such as +this stopped on the streets of the town, the young men would come out +of the banks and the offices and gather round to chat. There would be +a halt before an ice-cream parlour, and a big tray of ices would be +brought out, and the girls would sit in the carriage and eat, and the +boys would stand on the curb and eat--undismayed by the fact that +they had welcomed half a dozen such parties during the afternoon. The +statistics proved that this was a thriving town, with rapidly increasing +business, but there was never so much business as to interfere with +gallantries like these. + +Sylvia enjoyed the scene; it took her back to happy days, before black +care had taken his seat behind her. She sat in a kind of dream, only +half hearing the merriment of the young people, and only half tasting +her ice. How she loved this old town, with its streets deep in black +spring mud, its mud-plastered "buck-boards" and saddle horses hitched +at every telegraph pole! Its banks and stores and law offices seemed +shabbier after one had made the "grand tour," but they were none the +less dear to her for that. She would spend the rest of her days in +Castleman County, and the sunshine and peace would gradually enfold her. + +Such were her thoughts when the unforeseen event befel. A man on +horse-back rode down a side-street, crossing Main Street a little way in +front of her; a man dressed in khaki, with a khaki riding hat pulled low +over his face. He rode rapidly--appearing and vanishing, so that Sylvia +scarcely saw him--really did not see him with her conscious mind at all. +Her thoughts were still busy with dreams, and the clatter of boys and +girls; but deep within her had begun a tumult--a trembling, a pounding +of the heart, a clamouring under the floors of her consciousness. + +And slowly this excitement mounted. What was the matter, what had +happened? A man had ridden by, but why should a man--. Surely it could +not have been--no. There were hundreds of men in Castleman County who +wore khaki and rode horse-back, and had sturdy, thick-set figures! But +then, how could she make a mistake? How could her instinct have betrayed +her so? It was that same view of him as he sat on a horse that had first +thrilled her during the hunting party years ago! + +He had gone West, and had said that he would never return. He had not +been heard from in years. What an amazing thing, that a mere glimpse of +a man who looked and dressed and rode like him should be able to set her +whole being into such a panic! How futile became her dreams of peace! + +She heard the sound of a vehicle close beside her carriage, and turned +and found herself looking into the sharp eyes of Mrs. Armistead. It +happened that Sylvia was on the side away from the curb, and there was +no one talking to her; so Mrs. Armistead ran her electric alongside, and +had the stirring occasion to herself. Sylvia looked into her face, so +full of malice, and knew two things in a flash: First, it really had +been Frank Shirley riding by; and second, Mrs. Armistead had seen him! + +"Another candidate for your eugenics class!" said the lady. + +Sylvia glanced at the young people and made sure they were paying no +attention. She might have made some remark that would have brought +them into the conversation, and delivered her from the torments of this +devil. But no, she had never quailed from Mrs. Armistead in her life, +and she would not now give her the satisfaction of driving off to tell +the town that Sylvia van Tuiver had seen Frank Shirley, and had been +overcome by it, and had taken refuge behind the skirts of her little +sisters! + +"You can see I have my carriage full of pupils" she said, smilingly. + +"How happy it must make you, Sylvia--coming home and meeting all your +old friends! It must set you trembling with ecstasy--angels singing in +the sky above you--little golden bells ringing all over you!" + +Sylvia recognised these phrases. They were part of an effort she had +made to describe the raptures of young love to her bosom friend, Harriet +Atkinson. And so Harriet had passed them on to the town! And they had +been cherished all these years. + +She could not afford to recognise these illegitimate children of +romance. "Mrs. Armistead," she said, "I had no idea you had so much +poetry in you!" + +"I am simply improvising, my dear--upon the colour in your cheeks at +present!" + +There was no way save to be bold. "You couldn't expect me not to be +excited, Mrs. Armistead. You see, I had no idea he had come back from +the West." + +"They say he left a wife there." remarked the lady, innocently. + +"Ah!" said Sylvia. "Then he will not be staying long, presumably." + +There was a pause; all at once Mrs. Armistead's voice became gentle +and sympathetic. "Sylvia," she said, "don't imagine that I fail to +appreciate what is going on in your heart. I know a true romance when I +see one. If only you could have known in those days what you know now, +there might have been one beautiful love story that did not end as a +tragedy." + +You would have thought the lady's better self had suddenly been touched. +But Sylvia knew her; too many times she had seen this huntress trying to +lure a victim out of his refuge. + +"Yes, Mrs. Armistead," she said, gently. "But I have the consolation at +least of being a martyr to science." + +"In what way?" + +"Have you forgotten the new medical term that I have given to the +world?" + +And Mrs. Armistead looked at her for a moment aghast. "My God, Sylvia!" +she whispered; and then--an honest tribute: "You certainly can take care +of yourself!" + +"Yes," said Sylvia. "Tell that to my other friends in town." And so, at +last, Mrs. Armistead started her machine, and this battle of hell-cats +came to an end. + +21. Sylvia rode home in a daze, answering without hearing the prattle of +the children. She was appalled at the emotions that possessed her--that +the sight of Frank Shirley riding down the street could have affected +her so! She forgot Mrs. Armistead, she forgot the whole world, in her +dismay over her own state of mind. Having dismissed Frank from her life +and her thoughts forever, it seemed to her preposterous that she should +be at the mercy of such an excitement. + +She found herself wondering about her family. Did they know that Frank +Shirley had returned? Would they have failed to mention it to her? For +a moment she told herself it would not have occurred to them she could +have any interest in the subject. But no--they were not so _naive_--the +Castleman women--as their sense of propriety made them pretend to be! +But how stupid of them not to give her warning! Suppose she had happened +to meet Frank face to face, and in the presence of others! She must +certainly have betrayed her excitement; and just at this time, when the +world had the Castleman family under the microscope! + +She told herself that she would avoid such difficulty in future; she +would stay at home until Frank had gone away. If he had a wife in +the West, presumably he had merely come for a visit to his mother and +sisters. And then Sylvia found herself in an argument with herself. What +possible difference could it make that Frank Shirley had a wife? So long +as she, Sylvia, had a husband, what else mattered? Yet she could not +deny it--it brought her a separate and additional pang that Frank +Shirley should have married. What sort of wife could he have found--he, +a stranger in the far West? And why had he not brought his wife home to +his people? + +When she stepped out of the carriage, it was with her mind made up that +she would stay at home until all danger was past. But the next afternoon +a neighbour called up to ask Sylvia and Celeste to come and play cards +in the evening. It was not a party, Mrs. Witherspoon explained to "Miss +Margaret," who answered the 'phone; just a few friends and a good time, +and she did so hope that Sylvia was not going to refuse. The mere +hint of the fear that Sylvia might refuse was enough to excite Mrs. +Castleman. Why should Sylvia refuse? So she accepted the invitation, and +then came to plead with her daughter--for Celeste's sake, and for the +sake of all her family, so that the world might see that she was not +crushed by misfortune! + +There were reasons why the invitation was a difficult one to decline. +Mrs. Virginia Witherspoon was the daughter of a Confederate general +whose name you read in every history-book; and she had a famous old +home in the country which was falling about her ears--her husband being +seldom sober enough to know what was happening. She had also three +blossoming daughters, whom she must manage to get out of the home before +the plastering of the drawing-room fell upon the heads of their suitors; +so that the ardour of her husband-hunting was one of the jokes of the +State. Naturally, under such circumstances, the Witherspoons had to +be treated with consideration by the Castlemans. One might snub rich +Yankees, and chasten the suddenly-prosperous; but a family with an +ancient house in ruins, and with faded uniforms and battle-scarred +sabres in the cedar-chests in its attic--such a family can with +difficulty overdraw its social bank account. + +Dolly Witherspoon, the oldest daughter, had been Sylvia's rival for +the palm as the most beautiful girl in Castleman County. And Sylvia +had triumphed, and Dolly had failed. So, in her secret heart she +hated Sylvia, and the mother hated her; and yet--such was the social +game--they had to invite Sylvia and her sister to their card-parties, +and Sylvia and her sister had to go. They had to go and be the most +striking figures there: Celeste, slim and pale from sorrow, virginal, in +clinging white chiffon; and Sylvia, regal and splendid, shimmering like +a mermaid in a gown of emerald green. + +The mermaid imagined that she noticed a slight agitation underneath +the cordiality of her hostess. The next person to greet her was Mrs. +Armistead; and Sylvia was sure that she did not imagine the suppressed +excitement in that lady's manner. But even while she was speculating +and suspecting, she was led toward the drawing-room. It was late, her +hostess explained; the other guests were waiting, so if they did not +mind, the play would start at once. Celeste was to sit at that table +over there, with Mr. Witherspoon's crippled brother, and old Mr. +Perkins, who was deaf; and Sylvia was to come this way--the table in the +corner. Sylvia moved toward it, and Dolly Witherspoon and her sister, +Emma, greeted her cordially, and then stepped out of the way to let her +to her seat; and Sylvia gave one glance--and found herself face to face +with Frank Shirley! + +22. Frank's face was scarlet; and Sylvia had a moment of blind terror, +when she wanted to turn and fly. But there about her was the circle +of her enemies; a whole roomful of people, breathless with curiosity, +drinking in with eyes and ears every hint of distress that she might +give. And the next morning the whole town would, in imagination, attend +the scene! + +"Good-evening, Julia," said Sylvia, to Mrs. Witherspoon's youngest +daughter, the other lady at the table. "Good-evening, Malcolm"--to +Malcolm McCallum, an old "beau" of hers. And then, taking the seat which +Malcolm sprang to move out for her, "How do you do, Frank?" + +Frank's eyes had fallen to his lap. "How do you do?" he murmured. The +sound of his voice, low and trembling, full of pain, was like the +sound of some old funeral bell to Sylvia; it sent the blood leaping in +torrents to her forehead. Oh, horrible, horrible! + +For a moment her eyes fell like his, and she shuddered, and was beaten. +But there was the roomful of people, watching; there was Mrs. Armistead, +there were the Witherspoon women gloating. She forced a tortured smile +to her lips, and asked, "What are we playing?" + +"Oh, didn't you know that?" said Julia. "Progressive whist." + +"Thank-you," said Sylvia. "When do we begin?" And she looked +about--anywhere but at Frank Shirley, with his face grown so old in four +years. + +No one said anything, no one made a move. Was everybody in the room +conspiring to break her down? "I thought we were late," she said, +desperately; and then, with another effort--"Shall I cut?" she asked, of +Julia. + +"If you please," said the girl; but she did not make a motion to pass +the cards. Her manner seemed to say, You may cut all night, but it won't +help you to rob me of this satisfaction. + +Sylvia made a still more determined effort. If the game was to be +postponed indefinitely, so that people might watch her and Frank--well, +she would have to find something to talk about. + +"It is a surprise to see you again, Frank Shirley!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes," he said. His voice was a mumble, and he did not lift his eyes. + +"You have been in the West, I understand?" + +"Yes," again; but still he did not lift his eyes. + +Sylvia managed to lift hers as far as his cravat; and she saw in it +an old piece of imitation jewelry which she had picked up once on the +street, and had handed to him in jest. He had worn it all these years! +He had not thrown it away--not even when she had thrown him away! + +Again came a surge of emotion; and out of the mist she looked about her +and saw the faces of tormenting demons, leering. "Well," she demanded, +"are we going to play?" + +"We were waiting for you to cut," said Julia, graciously; and Sylvia's +fury helped to restore her self-posession. She cut the cards; and fate +was kind, sparing both her and Frank the task of dealing. + +But then a new difficulty arose. Julia dealt, and thirteen cards lay +in front of Frank Shirley; but he did not seem to know that he ought +to pick them up. And when the opposing lady called him to time, in +what seemed an unnecessarily penetrating voice, he found that he was +physically unable to get the cards from the table. And when with his +fumbling efforts he got them into a bunch, he could not straighten them +out--to say nothing of the labour of sorting them according to suit, +which all whist-players know to be an indispensable preliminary to the +game. When the opposing lady prodded him again, Frank's face changed +from vivid scarlet to a dark and alarming purple. + +Miss Julia led the tray of clubs; and Frank, whose turn came next, +spilled three cards upon the table, and finally selected from them the +king of hearts to play--hearts being trumps. "But you have a club there, +Mr. Shirley," said his opponent; something that was pardonable, inasmuch +as the nine of clubs lay face up where he had shoved it aside. + +"Oh--I beg pardon," he stammered, and took back his king, and reached +into his hand and pulled out the six of clubs, and a diamond with it. + +It was evident that this could not go on. Sylvia might be equal to the +emergency, but Frank was not. He was too much of a human being and too +little of a social automaton. Something must be done. + +"Don't they play whist out West, Mr. Shirley," asked Julia, still +smiling benevolently. + +And Sylvia lowered her cards. "Surely, my dear, you must understand," +she said, gently. "Mr. Shirley is too much embarrassed to think about +cards." + +"Oh!" said the other, taken aback. (_L'audace, touljours l'audace!_ runs +the formula!) + +"You see," continued Sylvia, "this is the first time that Frank has seen +me in more than three years. And when two people have been as much in +love as he and I were, they are naturally disturbed when they meet, and +cannot put their minds upon a game of cards." + +Julia was speechless. And Sylvia let her glance wander casually about +the room. She saw her hostess and her daughters standing watching; and +near the wall at the other side of the room stood the head-devil, who +had planned this torment. + +"Mrs. Armistead," Sylvia called, "aren't you going to play to-night?" Of +course everybody in the room heard this; and after it, anyone could have +heard a pin drop. + +"I'm to keep score," said Mrs. Armistead. + +"But it doesn't need four to keep score," objected Sylvia--and looked at +the three Witherspoon ladies. + +"Dolly and Emma are staying out," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "Two of our +guests did not come." + +"Well," Sylvia exclaimed, "that just makes it right! Please let them +take the place of Mr. Shirley and myself. You see, we haven't seen each +other for three or four years, and it's hard for us to get interested +into a game of cards." + +The whole room caught its breath at once; and here and there one heard +a little squeak of hysteria, cut short by some one who was not sure +whether it was a joke or a scandal. "Why--Sylvia!" stammered Mrs. +Witherspoon, completely staggered. + +Then Sylvia perceived that she was mistress of the scene. There came the +old rapture of conquest, that made her social genius. "We have so much +that we want to talk about," she said, in her most winning voice. "Let +Dolly and Emma take our places, and we will sit on the sofa in the other +room and chat. You and Mrs. Armistead come and chaperone us. Won't you +do that, please?" + +"Why--why----" gasped the bewildered lady. + +"I'm sure that you will both be interested to hear what we have to say +to each other; and you can tell everybody about it afterwards--and that +will be so much better than having the card-game delayed any more." + +And with this side-swipe Sylvia arose. She stood and waited, to make +sure that her ex-fianc was not too paralysed to follow. She led him out +through the tangle of card-tables; and in the door-way she stopped and +waited for Mrs. Armistead and Mrs. Witherspoon, and literally forced +these two ladies to come with her out of the room. + +23. Do you care to hear the details of the punishment which Sylvia +administered to the two conspirators? She took them to the sofa, and +made Frank draw up chairs for them, and when she had got comfortably +seated, she proceeded to talk to Frank just as gently and sincerely and +touchingly as she would have talked if there had been nobody present. +She asked about all that had befallen him, and when she discovered that +he was still not able to chat, she told him about herself, about her +baby, who was beautiful and dear, even if she was blind, and about all +the interesting things she had seen in Europe. When presently the old +ladies showed signs of growing restless, she put hand cuffs on them and +chained them to their chairs. + +"You see," she said, "it would never do for Mr. Shirley and myself to +talk without a chaperon. You got me into this situation, you know, and +papa and mamma would never forgive you." + +"You are mistaken, Sylvia!" cried Mrs. Witherspoon. "Mr. Shirley so +seldom goes out, and he had said he didn't think he would come!" + +"I am willing to accept that explanation," said Sylvia, politely, "but +you must help me out now that the embarrassing accident has happened." + +Nor did it avail Mrs. Witherspoon to plead her guests and their score. +"You may be sure they don't care about the score," said Sylvia. "They'd +much prefer you stayed here, so that you can tell them how Frank and I +behaved." + +And then, while Mrs. Witherspoon was getting herself together, Sylvia +turned upon the other conspirator. "We will now hold one of my eugenics +classes," she said, and added, to Frank, "Mrs. Armistead told me that +you wanted to join my class." + +"I don't understand," replied Frank, at a loss. + +"I will explain," said Sylvia. "It is not a very refined joke they have +in the town. Mrs. Armistead meant to say that she credits a disgraceful +story that was circulated about you when we were engaged, and which my +people made use of to make me break our engagement. I am glad to have +a chance to tell you that I have investigated and satisfied myself +that the story was not true. I want to apologise to you for ever having +believed it; and I am sure that Mrs. Armistead may be glad of this +opportunity to apologise for having said that she believed it." + +"I never said that I believed it!" cried Sallie Ann. + +"No, you didn't, Mrs. Armistead--you would not be so crude as to say +it directly. You merely dropped a hint, which would lead everybody to +understand that you believed it." + +Sylvia paused, just long enough to let the wicked lady suffer, but not +long enough to let her find a reply. "When you tell your friends about +this scene," she continued, "please make clear that I did not drop hints +about anything, but said exactly what I meant--that the story is false, +so far as it implies any evil done by Mr. Shirley, and that I am deeply +ashamed of myself for having ever believed it. It is all in the past +now, of course--we are both of us married, and we shall probably never +meet again. But it will be a help to us in future to have had this +little talk--will it not, Frank?" + +There was a pause, while Sallie Ann Armistead recovered from her +dismay, and got back a little of her fighting power. Suddenly she rose: +"Virginia," she said, firmly, "you are neglecting your guests." + +"I don't think you ought to go until Frank has got himself together," +said Sylvia. "Frank, can you sort your cards now?" + +"Virginia!" commanded Sallie Ann, imperiously. "Come!" + +Mrs. Witherspoon rose, and so did Sylvia. "We can't stay here alone," +said she. "Frank, will you take Mrs. Witherspoon in?" And she gently +but firmly took Mrs. Armistead's arm, and so they marched back into the +drawing-room. + +Dolly and Emma had progressed to separate tables, it developed, so that +the ordeal of Frank and Sylvia was over. Through the remainder of the +evening Sylvia chatted and played, and later partook of refreshments +with Malcolm McCallum, and mildly teased that inconsolable bachelor, +quite as in the old days. Now and then she stole a glance at Frank +Shirley, and saw that he was holding up his end; but he kept away from +her, and she never even caught his eye. + +At last the company broke up, and Sylvia thanked her hostess for a most +enjoyable evening. She stepped into the motor with Celeste, and sat with +compressed lips, answering in monosyllables her "little sister's" flood +of excited questions--"Oh, Sylvia, didn't you feel perfectly _terrible?_ +Oh, sister, I felt _thrills_ running up and down my back! Sister, what +_did_ you say to him? Sister, do you know old Mr. Perkins kept leaning +over me and asking what was happening; and how could I shout into his +deaf ear that everybody was stopping to hear what you were saying to +Frank Shirley?" + +At the end of the ride, there was Aunt Varina waiting up as usual--to +renew her own youth in the story of the evening, what this person had +worn and what that person had said. But Sylvia left her sister to tell +the story, and fled to her room and locked the door, and flung herself +upon the bed and gave way to a torrent of weeping. + +Half an hour later Celeste went up, and finding that the door between +her room and Sylvia's was unlocked, opened it softly, and stood +listening. Finally she stole to her sister's side and put her arm about +her. "Never mind, sister dear," she whispered, solemnly, "I know how it +is! We women all have to suffer!" + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5807-8.txt or 5807-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/0/5807/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/5807-8.zip b/5807-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..01c1756 --- /dev/null +++ b/5807-8.zip diff --git a/5807-h.zip b/5807-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..113164c --- /dev/null +++ b/5807-h.zip diff --git a/5807-h/5807-h.htm b/5807-h/5807-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6b4e30 --- /dev/null +++ b/5807-h/5807-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9999 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sylvia's Marriage + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5807] +This file was first posted on September 4, 2002 +Last Updated: October 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE + </h1> + <h3> + A NOVEL + </h3> + <h2> + By Upton Sinclair + </h2> + <h4> + Author Of “The Jungle,” Etc., Etc. <br /> <br /> London + </h4> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <b>SOME PRESS NOTICES</b> + </p> + <p> + “The importance of the theme cannot be doubted, and no one hitherto + ignorant of the ravages of the evil and therefore, by implication, in need + of being convinced can refuse general agreement with Mr. Sinclair upon the + question as he argues it. The character that matters most is very much + alive and most entertaining.”—<i>The Times.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Very severe and courageous. It would, indeed, be difficult to deny or + extenuate the appalling truth of Mr. Sinclair’s indictment.”— <i>The + Nation.</i> + </p> + <p> + “There is not a man nor a grown woman who would not be better for reading + Sylvia’s Marriage.”—<i>The Globe</i> + </p> + <p> + “Those who found Sylvia charming on her first appearance will find her as + beautiful and fascinating as ever.”—<i>The Pall Mall</i>. + </p> + <p> + “A novel that frankly is devoted to the illustration of the dangers that + society runs through the marriage of unsound men with unsuspecting women. + The time has gone by when any objection was likely to be taken to a + perfectly clean discussion of a nasty subject.”—<i>T.P.‘s Weekly.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE + </h2> + <p> + 1. I am telling the story of Sylvia Castleman. I should prefer to tell it + without mention of myself; but it was written in the book of fate that I + should be a decisive factor in her life, and so her story pre-supposes + mine. I imagine the impatience of a reader, who is promised a heroine out + of a romantic and picturesque “society” world, and finds himself beginning + with the autobiography of a farmer’s wife on a solitary homestead in + Manitoba. But then I remember that Sylvia found me interesting. Putting + myself in her place, remembering her eager questions and her exclamations, + I am able to see myself as a heroine of fiction. + </p> + <p> + I was to Sylvia a new and miraculous thing, a self-made woman. I must have + been the first “common” person she had ever known intimately. She had seen + us afar off, and wondered vaguely about us, consoling herself with the + reflection that we probably did not know enough to be unhappy over our sad + lot in life. But here I was, actually a soul like herself; and it happened + that I knew more than she did, and of things she desperately needed to + know. So all the luxury, power and prestige that had been given to Sylvia + Castleman seemed as nothing beside Mary Abbott, with her modern attitude + and her common-sense. + </p> + <p> + My girlhood was spent upon a farm in Iowa. My father had eight children, + and he drank. Sometimes he struck me; and so it came about that at the age + of seventeen I ran away with a boy of twenty who worked upon a neighbour’s + farm. I wanted a home of my own, and Tom had some money saved up. We + journeyed to Manitoba, and took out a homestead, where I spent the next + twenty years of my life in a hand-to-hand struggle with Nature which + seemed simply incredible to Sylvia when I told her of it. + </p> + <p> + The man I married turned out to be a petty tyrant. In the first five years + of our life he succeeded in killing the love I had for him; but meantime I + had borne him three children, and there was nothing to do but make the + best of my bargain. I became to outward view a beaten drudge; yet it was + the truth that never for an hour did I give up. When I lost what would + have been my fourth child, and the doctor told me that I could never have + another, I took this for my charter of freedom, and made up my mind to my + course; I would raise the children I had, and grow up with them, and move + out into life when they did. + </p> + <p> + This was when I was working eighteen hours a day, more than half of it by + lamp-light, in the darkness of our Northern winters. When the accident + came, I had been doing the cooking for half a dozen men, who were getting + in the wheat upon which our future depended. I fell in my tracks, and lost + my child; yet I sat still and white while the men ate supper, and + afterwards I washed up the dishes. Such was my life in those days; and I + can see before me the face of horror with which Sylvia listened to the + story. But these things are common in the experience of women who live + upon pioneer farms, and toil as the slave-woman has toiled since + civilization began. + </p> + <p> + We won out, and my husband made money. I centred my energies upon getting + school-time for my children; and because I had resolved that they should + not grow ahead of me, I sat up at night, and studied their books. When the + oldest boy was ready for high-school, we moved to a town, where my husband + had bought a granary business. By that time I had become a physical wreck, + with a list of ailments too painful to describe. But I still had my + craving for knowledge, and my illness was my salvation, in a way—it + got me a hired girl, and time to patronize the free library. + </p> + <p> + I had never had any sort of superstition or prejudice, and when I got into + the world of books, I began quickly to find my way. I travelled into + by-paths, of course; I got Christian Science badly, and New Thought in a + mild attack. I still have in my mind what the sober reader would doubtless + consider queer kinks; for instance, I still practice “mental healing,” in + a form, and I don’t always tell my secret thoughts about Theosophy and + Spiritualism. But almost at once I worked myself out of the religion I had + been taught, and away from my husband’s politics, and the drugs of my + doctors. One of the first subjects I read about was health; I came upon a + book on fasting, and went away upon a visit and tried it, and came back + home a new woman, with a new life before me. + </p> + <p> + In all of these matters my husband fought me at every step. He wished to + rule, not merely my body, but my mind, and it seemed as if every new thing + that I learned was an additional affront to him. I don’t think I was + rendered disagreeable by my culture; my only obstinacy was in maintaining + the right of the children to do their own thinking. But during this time + my husband was making money, and filling his life with that. He remained + in his every idea the money-man, an active and bitter leader of the forces + of greed in our community; and when my studies took me to the inevitable + end, and I joined the local of the Socialist party in our town, it was to + him like a blow in the face. He never got over it, and I think that if the + children had not been on my side, he would have claimed the Englishman’s + privilege of beating me with a stick not thicker than his thumb. As it + was, he retired into a sullen hypochondria, which was so pitiful that in + the end I came to regard him as not responsible. + </p> + <p> + I went to a college town with my three children, and when they were + graduated, having meantime made sure that I could never do anything but + torment my husband, I set about getting a divorce. I had helped to lay the + foundation of his fortune, cementing it with my blood, I might say, and I + could fairly have laid claim to half what he had brought from the farm; + but my horror of the parasitic woman had come to be such that rather than + even seem to be one, I gave up everything, and went out into the world at + the age of forty-five to earn my own living. My children soon married, and + I would not be a burden to them; so I came East for a while, and settled + down quite unexpectedly into a place as a field-worker for a child-labour + committee. + </p> + <p> + You may think that a woman so situated would not have been apt to meet + Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, <i>née</i> Castleman, and to be chosen for her + bosom friend; but that would only be because you do not know the modern + world. We have managed to get upon the consciences of the rich, and they + invite us to attend their tea-parties and disturb their peace of mind. And + then, too, I had a peculiar hold upon Sylvia; when I met her I possessed + the key to the great mystery of her life. How that had come about is a + story in itself, the thing I have next to tell. + </p> + <p> + 2. It happened that my arrival in New York from the far West coincided + with Sylvia’s from the far South; and that both fell at a time when there + were no wars or earthquakes or football games to compete for the front + page of the newspapers. So everybody was talking about the prospective + wedding. The fact that the Southern belle had caught the biggest prize + among the city’s young millionaires was enough to establish precedence + with the city’s subservient newspapers, which had proceeded to robe the + grave and punctilious figure of the bridegroom in the garments of King + Cophetua. The fact that the bride’s father was the richest man in his own + section did not interfere with this—for how could metropolitan + editors be expected to have heard of the glories of Castleman Hall, or to + imagine that there existed a section of America so self-absorbed that its + local favourite would not feel herself exalted in becoming Mrs. Douglas + van Tuiver? + </p> + <p> + What the editors knew about Castleman Hall was that they wired for + pictures, and a man was sent from the nearest city to “snap” this unknown + beauty; whereupon her father chased the presumptuous photographer and + smashed his camera with a cane. So, of course, when Sylvia stepped out of + the train in New York, there was a whole battery of cameras awaiting her, + and all the city beheld her image the next day. + </p> + <p> + The beginning of my interest in this “belle” from far South was when I + picked up the paper at my breakfast table, and found her gazing at me, + with the wide-open, innocent eyes of a child; a child who had come from + some fairer, more gracious world, and brought the memory of it with her, + trailing her clouds of glory. She had stepped from the train into the + confusion of the roaring city, and she stood, startled and frightened, + yet, I thought, having no more real idea of its wickedness and horror than + a babe in arms. I read her soul in that heavenly countenance, and sat + looking at it, enraptured, dumb. There must have been thousands, even in + that metropolis of Mammon, who loved her from that picture, and whispered + a prayer for her happiness. + </p> + <p> + I can hear her laugh as I write this. For she would have it that I was + only one more of her infatuated lovers, and that her clouds of glory were + purely stage illusion. She knew exactly what she was doing with those + wide-open, innocent eyes! Had not old Lady Dee, most cynical of + worldlings, taught her how to use them when she was a child in pig-tails? + To be sure she had been scared when she stepped off the train, and strange + men had shoved cameras under her nose. It was almost as bad as being + assassinated! But as to her heavenly soul—alas, for the blindness of + men, and of sentimental old women, who could believe in a modern “society” + girl! + </p> + <p> + I had supposed that I was an emancipated woman when I came to New York. + But one who has renounced the world, the flesh and the devil, knowing them + only from pictures in magazines and Sunday supplements; such a one may + find that he has still some need of fasting and praying. The particular + temptation which overcame me was this picture of the bride-to-be. I wanted + to see her, and I went and stood for hours in a crowd of curious women, + and saw the wedding party enter the great Fifth Avenue Church, and + discovered that my Sylvia’s hair was golden, and her eyes a strange and + wonderful red-brown. And this was the moment that fate had chosen to throw + Claire Lepage into my arms, and give me the key to the future of Sylvia’s + life. + </p> + <p> + 3. I am uncertain how much I should tell about Claire Lepage. It is a + story which is popular in a certain sort of novel, but I have no wish for + that easy success. Towards Claire herself I had no trace of the + conventional attitude, whether of contempt or of curiosity. She was to me + the product of a social system, of the great New Nineveh which I was + investigating. And later on, when I knew her, she was a weak sister whom I + tried to help. + </p> + <p> + It happened that I knew much more about such matters than the average + woman—owing to a tragedy in my life. When I was about twenty-five + years old, my brother-in-law had moved his family to our part of the + world, and one of his boys had become very dear to me. This boy later on + had got into trouble, and rather than tell anyone about it, had shot + himself. So my eyes had been opened to things that are usually hidden from + my sex; for the sake of my own sons, I had set out to study the + underground ways of the male creature. I developed the curious custom of + digging out every man I met, and making him lay bare his inmost life to + me; so you may understand that it was no ordinary pair of woman’s arms + into which Claire Lepage was thrown. + </p> + <p> + At first I attributed her vices to her environment, but soon I realized + that this was a mistake; the women of her world do not as a rule go to + pieces. Many of them I met were free and independent women, one or two of + them intellectual and worth knowing. For the most part such women marry + well, in the worldly sense, and live as contented lives as the average + lady who secures her life-contract at the outset. If you had met Claire at + an earlier period of her career, and if she had been concerned to impress + you, you might have thought her a charming hostess. She had come of good + family, and been educated in a convent—much better educated than + many society girls in America. She spoke English as well as she did + French, and she had read some poetry, and could use the language of + idealism whenever necessary. She had even a certain religious streak, and + could voice the most generous sentiments, and really believe that she + believed them. So it might have been some time before you discovered the + springs of her weakness. + </p> + <p> + In the beginning I blamed van Tuiver; but in the end I concluded that for + most of her troubles she had herself to thank—or perhaps the + ancestors who had begotten her. She could talk more nobly and act more + abjectly than any other woman I have ever known. She wanted pleasant + sensations, and she expected life to furnish them continuously. + Instinctively she studied the psychology of the person she was dealing + with, and chose a reason which would impress that person. + </p> + <p> + At this time, you understand, I knew nothing about Sylvia Castleman or her + fiancé, except what the public knew. But now I got an inside view—and + what a view! I had read some reference to Douglas van Tuiver’s Harvard + career: how he had met the peerless Southern beauty, and had given up + college and pursued her to her home. I had pictured the wooing in the rosy + lights of romance, with all the glamour of worldly greatness. But now, + suddenly, what a glimpse into the soul of the princely lover! “He had a + good scare, let me tell you,” said Claire. “He never knew what I was going + to do from one minute to the next.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he see you in the crowd before the church door?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “but he thought of me, I can promise you.” + </p> + <p> + “He knew you were coming?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, “I told him I had got an admission card, just to make sure + he’d keep me in mind!” + </p> + <p> + 4. I did not have to hear much more of Claire’s story before making up my + mind that the wealthiest and most fashionable of New York’s young + bachelors was a rather self-centred person. He had fallen desperately in + love with the peerless Southern beauty, and when she had refused to have + anything to do with him, he had come back to the other woman for + consolation, and had compelled her to pretend to sympathize with his + agonies of soul. And this when he knew that she loved him with the + intensity of a jealous nature. + </p> + <p> + Claire had her own view of Sylvia Castleman, a view for which I naturally + made due reservations. Sylvia was a schemer, who had known from the first + what she wanted, and had played her part with masterly skill. As for + Claire, she had striven to match her moves, plotting in the darkness + against her, and fighting desperately with such weak weapons as she + possessed. It was characteristic that she did not blame herself for her + failure; it was the baseness of van Tuiver, his inability to appreciate + sincere devotion, his unworthiness of her love. And this, just after she + had been naively telling me of her efforts to poison his mind against + Sylvia while pretending to admire her! But I made allowances for Claire at + this moment—realizing that the situation had been one to overstrain + any woman’s altruism. + </p> + <p> + She had failed in her subtleties, and there had followed scenes of bitter + strife between the two. Sylvia, the cunning huntress, having pretended to + relent, van Tuiver had gone South to his wooing again, while Claire had + stayed at home and read a book about the poisoners of the Italian + renaissance. And then had come the announcement of the engagement, after + which the royal conqueror had come back in a panic, and sent embassies of + his male friends to plead with Claire, alternately promising her wealth + and threatening her with destitution, appealing to her fear, her cupidity, + and even to her love. To all of which I listened, thinking of the + wide-open, innocent eyes of the picture, and shedding tears within my + soul. So must the gods feel as they look down upon the affairs of mortals, + seeing how they destroy themselves by ignorance and folly, seeing how they + walk into the future as a blind man into a yawning abyss. + </p> + <p> + I gave, of course, due weight to the sneers of Claire. Perhaps the + innocent one really had set a trap—had picked van Tuiver out and + married him for his money. But even so, I could hope that she had not + known what she was doing. Surely it had never occurred to her that through + all the days of her triumph she would have to eat and sleep with the shade + of another woman at her side! + </p> + <p> + Claire said to me, not once, but a dozen times, “He’ll come back to me. + She’ll never be able to make him happy.” And so I pictured Sylvia upon her + honeymoon, followed by an invisible ghost whose voice she would never + hear, whose name she would never know. All that van Tuiver had learned + from Claire, the sensuality, the <i>ennin</i>, the contempt for woman—it + would rise to torment and terrify his bride, and turn her life to + bitterness. And then beyond this, deeps upon deeps, to which my + imagination did not go—and of which the Frenchwoman, with all her + freedom of tongue, gave me no more than a hint which I could not + comprehend. + </p> + <p> + 5. Claire Lepage at this time was desperately lonely and unhappy. Having + made the discovery that my arms were sturdy, used to doing a man’s work, + she clung to them. She begged me to go home with her, to visit her—finally + to come and live with her. Until recently an elderly companion, had posed + as her aunt, and kept her respectable while she was upon van Tuiver’s + yacht, and at his castle in Scotland. But this companion had died, and now + Claire had no one with whom to discuss her soul-states. + </p> + <p> + She occupied a beautiful house on the West Side, not far from Riverside + Drive; and in addition to the use of this she had an income of eight + thousand a year—which was not enough to make possible a chauffeur, + nor even to dress decently, but only enough to keep in debt upon. Such as + the income was, however, she was willing to share it with me. So there + opened before me a new profession—and a new insight into the + complications of parasitism. + </p> + <p> + I went to see her frequently at first, partly because I was interested in + her and her associates, and partly because I really thought I could help + her. But I soon came to realize that influencing Claire was like moulding + water; it flowed back round your hands, even while you worked. I would + argue with her about the physiological effects of alcohol, and when I had + convinced her, she would promise caution; but soon I would discover that + my arguments had gone over her head. I was at this time feeling my way + towards my work in the East. I tried to interest her in such things as + social reform, but realized that they had no meaning for her. She was + living the life of the pleasure-seeking idlers of the great metropolis, + and every time I met her it seemed to me that her character and her + appearance had deteriorated. + </p> + <p> + Meantime I picked up scraps of information concerning the van Tuivers. + There were occasional items in the papers, their yacht, the “Triton,” had + reached the Azores; it had run into a tender in the harbour of Gibraltar; + Mr. and Mrs. van Tuiver had received the honour of presentation at the + Vatican; they were spending the season in London, and had been presented + at court; they had been royal guests at the German army-manoeuvres. The + million wage-slaves of the metropolis, packed morning and night into the + roaring subways and whirled to and from their tasks, read items such as + these and were thrilled by the triumphs of their fellow-countrymen. + </p> + <p> + At Claire’s house I learned to be interested in “society” news. From a + weekly paper of gossip about the rich and great she would read paragraphs, + explaining subtle allusions and laying bare veiled scandals. Some of the + men she knew well, referring to them for my benefit as Bertie and Reggie + and Vivie and Algie. She also knew not a little about the women of that + super-world—information sometimes of an intimate nature, which these + ladies would have been startled to hear was going the rounds. + </p> + <p> + This insight I got into Claire’s world I found useful, needless to say, in + my occasional forays as a soap-box orator of Socialism. I would go from + the super-heated luxury of her home to visit tenement-dens where little + children made paper-flowers twelve and fourteen hours a day for a trifle + over one cent an hour. I would spend the afternoon floating about in the + park in the automobile of one of her expensive friends, and then take the + subway and visit one of the settlements, to hear a discussion of + conditions which doomed a certain number of working-girls to be burned + alive every year in factory fires. + </p> + <p> + As time went on, I became savage concerning such contrasts, and the + speeches I was making for the party began to attract attention. During the + summer, I recollect, I had begun to feel hostile even towards the lovely + image of Sylvia, which I had framed in my room. While she was being + presented at St. James’s, I was studying the glass-factories in South + Jersey, where I found little boys of ten working in front of glowing + furnaces until they dropped of exhaustion and sometimes had their eyes + burned out. While she and her husband were guests of the German Emperor, I + was playing the part of a Polish working-woman, penetrating the carefully + guarded secrets of the sugar-trust’s domain in Brooklyn, where human lives + are snuffed out almost every day in noxious fumes. + </p> + <p> + And then in the early fall Sylvia came home, her honeymoon over. She came + in one of the costly suites in the newest of the <i>de luxe</i> steamers; + and the next morning I saw a new picture of her, and read a few words her + husband had condescended to say to a fellow traveller about the courtesy + of Europe to visiting Americans. Then for a couple of months I heard no + more of them. I was busy with my child-labour work, and I doubt if a + thought of Sylvia crossed my mind, until that never-to-be-forgotten + afternoon at Mrs. Allison’s when she came up to me and took my hand in + hers. + </p> + <p> + 6. Mrs. Roland Allison was one of the comfortable in body who had begun to + feel uncomfortable in mind. I had happened to meet her at the settlement, + and tell her what I had seen in the glass factories; whereupon she made up + her mind that everybody she knew must hear me talk, and to that end gave a + reception at her Madison Avenue home. + </p> + <p> + I don’t remember much of what I said, but if I may take the evidence of + Sylvia, who remembered everything, I spoke effectively. I told them, for + one thing, the story of little Angelo Patri. Little Angelo was of that + indeterminate Italian age where he helped to support a drunken father + without regard to the child-labour laws of the State of New Jersey. His + people were tenants upon a fruit-farm a couple of miles from the + glass-factory, and little Angelo walked to and from his work along the + railroad-track. It is a peculiarity of the glass-factory that it has to + eat its children both by day and by night; and after working six hours + before midnight and six more after midnight, little Angelo was tired. He + had no eye for the birds and flowers on a beautiful spring morning, but as + he was walking home, he dropped in his tracks and fell asleep. The driver + of the first morning train on that branch-line saw what he took to be an + old coat lying on the track ahead, and did not stop to investigate. + </p> + <p> + All this had been narrated to me by the child’s mother, who had worked as + a packer of “beers,” and who had loved little Angelo. As I repeated her + broken words about the little mangled body, I saw some of my auditors wipe + away a surreptitious tear. + </p> + <p> + After I had stopped, several women came up to talk with me at the last, + when most of the company was departing, there came one more, who had + waited her turn. The first thing I saw was her loveliness, the thing about + her that dazzled and stunned people, and then came the strange sense of + familiarity. Where had I met this girl before? + </p> + <p> + She said what everybody always says; she had been so much interested, she + had never dreamed that such conditions existed in the world. I, applying + the acid test, responded, “So many people have said that to me that I have + begun to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is so in my case,” she replied, quickly. “You see, I have lived all my + life in the South, and we have no such conditions there.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Our negroes at least can steal enough to eat,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I smiled. Then—since one has but a moment or two to get in one’s + work in these social affairs, and so has to learn to thrust quickly: “You + have timber-workers in Louisiana, steel-workers in Alabama. You have + tobacco-factories, canning-factories, cotton-mills—have you been to + any of them to see how the people live?” + </p> + <p> + All this I said automatically, it being the routine of the agitator. But + meantime in my mind was an excitement, spreading like a flame. The + loveliness of this young girl; the eagerness, the intensity of feeling + written upon her countenance; and above all, the strange sense of + familiarity! Surely, if I had met her before, I should never have + forgotten her; surely it could not be—not possibly— + </p> + <p> + My hostess came, and ended my bewilderment. “You ought to get Mrs. van + Tuiver on your child-labour committee,” she said. + </p> + <p> + A kind of panic seized me. I wanted to say, “Oh, it is Sylvia Castleman!” + But then, how could I explain? I couldn’t say, “I have your picture in my + room, cut out of a newspaper.” Still less could I say, “I know a friend of + your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately Sylvia did not heed my excitement. (She had learned by this + time to pretend not to notice.) “Please don’t misunderstand me,” she was + saying. “I really <i>don’t</i> know about these things. And I would do + something to help if I could.” As she said this she looked with the + red-brown eyes straight into mine—a gaze so clear and frank and + honest, it was as if an angel had come suddenly to earth, and learned of + the horrible tangle into which we mortals have got our affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful what you’re saying,” put in our hostess, with a laugh. “You’re + in dangerous hands.” + </p> + <p> + But Sylvia would not be warned. “I want to know more about it,” she said. + “You must tell me what I can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her at her word,” said Mrs. Allison, to me. “Strike while the iron + is hot!” I detected a note of triumph in her voice; if she could say that + she had got Mrs. van Tuiver to take up child-labour—that indeed + would be a feather to wear! + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all I can,” I said. “That’s my work in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Take Mrs. Abbott away with you,” said the energetic hostess, to Sylvia; + and before I quite understood what was happening, I had received and + accepted an invitation to drive in the park with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver. + In her role of <i>dea ex machina</i> the hostess extricated me from the + other guests, and soon I was established in a big new motor, gliding up + Madison Avenue as swiftly and silently as a cloud-shadow over the fields. + As I write the words there lies upon my table a Socialist paper with one + of Will Dyson’s vivid cartoons, representing two ladies of the great world + at a reception. Says the first, “These social movements are becoming <i>quite</i> + worth while!” “Yes, indeed,” says the other. “One meets such good + society!” + </p> + <p> + 7. Sylvia’s part in this adventure was a nobler one than mine, Seated as I + was in a regal motor-car, and in company with one favoured of all the gods + in the world, I must have had an intense conviction of my own saintliness + not to distrust my excitement. But Sylvia, for her part, had nothing to + get from me but pain. I talked of the factory-fires and the horrors of the + sugar-refineries, and I saw shadow after shadow of suffering cross her + face. You may say it was cruel of me to tear the veil from those lovely + eyes, but in such a matter I felt myself the angel of the Lord and His + vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t know about these things!” she cried again. And I found it was + true. It would have been hard for me to imagine anyone so ignorant of the + realities of modern life. The men and women she had met she understood + quite miraculously, but they were only two kinds, the “best people” and + their negro servants. There had been a whole regiment of relatives on + guard to keep her from knowing anybody else, or anything else, and if by + chance a dangerous fact broke into the family stockade, they had formulas + ready with which to kill it. + </p> + <p> + “But now,” Sylvia went on, “I’ve got some money, and I can help, so I dare + not be ignorant any longer. You must show me the way, and my husband too. + I’m sure he doesn’t know what can be done.” + </p> + <p> + I said that I would do anything in my power. Her help would be invaluable, + not merely because of the money she might give, but because of the + influence of her name; the attention she could draw to any cause she + chose. I explained to her the aims and the methods of our child-labour + committee. We lobbied to get new legislation; we watched officials to + compel them to enforce the laws already existing; above all, we worked for + publicity, to make people realise what it meant that the new generation + was growing up without education, and stunted by premature toil. And that + was where she could help us most—if she would go and see the + conditions with her own eyes, and then appear before the legislative + committee this winter, in favour of our new bill! + </p> + <p> + She turned her startled eyes upon me at this. Her ideas of doing good in + the world were the old-fashioned ones of visiting and almsgiving; she had + no more conception of modern remedies than she had of modern diseases. + “Oh, I couldn’t possibly make a speech!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of such a thing. I don’t know enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can learn.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but that kind of work ought to be done by men.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve given men a chance, and they have made the evils. Whose business is + it to protect the children if not the women’s?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment, and then said: “I suppose you’ll laugh at me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” I promised; then as I looked at her I guessed. “Are you going to + tell me that woman’s place is the home?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what we think in Castleman County,” she said, smiling in spite of + herself. + </p> + <p> + “The children have got out of the home,” I replied. “If they are ever to + get back, we women must go and fetch them.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she laughed—that merry laugh that was the April sunshine of + my life for many years. “Somebody made a Suffrage speech in our State a + couple of years ago, and I wish you could have seen the horror of my + people! My Aunt Nannie—she’s Bishop Chilton’s wife—thought it + was the most dreadful thing that had happened since Jefferson Davis was + put in irons. She talked about it for days, and at last she went upstairs + and shut herself in the attic. The younger children came home from school, + and wanted to know where mamma was. Nobody knew. Bye and bye, the cook + came. ‘Marse Basil, what we gwine have fo’ dinner? I done been up to Mis’ + Nannie, an’ she say g’way an’ not pester her—she busy.’ Company + came, and there was dreadful confusion—nobody knew what to do about + anything—and still Aunt Nannie was locked in! At last came + dinner-time, and everybody else came. At last up went the butler, and came + down with the message that they were to eat whatever they had, and take + care of the company somehow, and go to prayer-meeting, and let her alone—she + was writing a letter to the Castleman County <i>Register</i> on the + subject of ‘The Duty of Woman as a Homemaker’!” + </p> + <p> + 8. This was the beginning of my introduction to Castleman County. It was a + long time before I went there, but I learned to know its inhabitants from + Sylvia’s stories of them. Funny stories, tragic stories, wild and + incredible stories out of a half-barbaric age! She would tell them and we + would laugh together; but then a wistful look would come into her eyes, + and a silence would fall. So very soon I made the discovery that my Sylvia + was homesick. In all the years that I knew her she never ceased to speak + of Castleman Hall as “home”. All her standards came from there, her new + ideas were referred there. + </p> + <p> + We talked of Suffrage for a while, and I spoke about the lives of women on + lonely farms—how they give their youth and health to their husband’s + struggle, yet have no money partnership which they can enforce in case of + necessity. “But surely,” cried Sylvia, “you don’t want to make divorce + more easy!” + </p> + <p> + “I want to make the conditions of it fair to women,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But then more women will get it! And there are so many divorced women + now! Papa says that divorce is a greater menace than Socialism!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke of Suffrage in England, where women were just beginning to make + public disturbances. Surely I did not approve of their leaving their homes + for such purposes as that! As tactfully as I could, I suggested that + conditions in England were peculiar. There was, for example, the quaint + old law which permitted a husband to beat his wife subject to certain + restrictions. Would an American woman submit to such a law? There was the + law which made it impossible for a woman to divorce her husband for + infidelity, unless accompanied by desertion or cruelty. Surely not even + her father would consider that a decent arrangement! I mentioned a recent + decision of the highest court in the land, that a man who brought his + mistress to live in his home, and compelled his wife to wait upon her, was + not committing cruelty within the meaning of the English law. I heard + Sylvia’s exclamation of horror, and met her stare of incredulity; and then + suddenly I thought of Claire, and a little chill ran over me. It was a + difficult hour, in more ways than one, that of my first talk with Mrs. + Douglas van Tuiver! + </p> + <p> + I soon made the discovery that, childish as her ignorance was, there was + no prejudice in it. If you brought her a fact, she did not say that it was + too terrible to be true, or that the Bible said otherwise, or that it was + indecent to know about it. Nor, when you met her next, did you discover + that she had forgotten it. On the contrary, you discovered that she had + followed it to its remote consequences, and was ready with a score of + questions as to these. I remember saying to myself, that first automobile + ride: “If this girl goes on thinking, she will get into trouble! She will + have to stop, for the sake of others!” + </p> + <p> + “You must meet my husband some time,” she said; and added, “I’ll have to + see my engagement-book. I have so much to do, I never know when I have a + moment free.” + </p> + <p> + “You must find it interesting,” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I did, for a while; but I’ve begun to get tired of so much going about. + For the most part I meet the same people, and I’ve found out what they + have to say.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “You have caught the society complaint already—<i>ennui</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “I had it years ago, at home. It’s true I never would have gone out at all + if it hadn’t been for the sake of my family. That’s why I envy a woman + like you—” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing. It was too funny, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver + envying me! + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just the irony of life. Do you know, I cut you out of the newspaper, and + put you in a little frame on my bureau. I thought, here is the loveliest + face I’ve ever seen, and here is the most-to-be-envied of women.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, but quickly became serious. “I learned very early in life that + I was beautiful; and I suppose if I were suddenly to cease being + beautiful, I’d miss it; yet I often think it’s a nuisance. It makes one + dependent on externals. Most of the beautiful women I’ve known make a sort + of profession of it—they live to shine and be looked at. + </p> + <p> + “And you don’t enjoy that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “It restricts one’s life. Men expect it of you, they resent your having + any other interest.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” I responded, gravely, “with all your beauty and wealth, you aren’t + perfectly happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” she cried—not having meant to confess so much. “I told + myself I would be happy, because I would be able to do so much good in the + world. There must be some way to do good with money! But now I’m not sure; + there seem to be so many things in the way. Just when you have your mind + made up that you have a way to help, someone comes and points out to you + that you may be really doing harm.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated again, and I said, “That means you have been looking into + the matter of charity.” + </p> + <p> + She gave me a bright glance. “How you understand things!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” I replied, “to know modern society so well that when you + meet certain causes you know what results to look for.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d explain to me why charity doesn’t do any good!” + </p> + <p> + “It would mean a lecture on the competitive wage-system,” I laughed— + “too serious a matter for a drive!” + </p> + <p> + This may have seemed shirking on my part. But here I was, wrapped in + luxurious furs, rolling gloriously through the park at twilight on a + brilliant autumn evening; and the confiscation of property seems so much + more startling a proposition when you are in immediate contact with it! + This principle, which explains the “opportunism” of Socialist + cabinet-ministers and Labour M.P.s may be used to account for the sudden + resolve which I had taken, that for this afternoon at least Mrs. Douglas + van Tuiver should not discover that I was either a divorced woman, or a + soap-box orator of the revolution. + </p> + <p> + 9. Sylvia, in that first conversation, told me much about herself that she + did not know she was telling. I became fairly certain, for instance, that + she had not married Mr. Douglas van Tuiver for love. The young girl who + has so married does not suffer from ennui in the first year, nor does she + find her happiness depending upon her ability to solve the problem of + charity in connection with her husband’s wealth. + </p> + <p> + She would have ridden and talked longer, she said, but for a dinner + engagement. She asked me to call on her, and I promised to come some + morning, as soon as she set a day. When the car drew up before the door of + her home, I thought of my first ride about the city in the “rubber-neck + wagon,” and how I had stared when the lecturer pointed out this mansion. + We, the passengers, had thrilled as one soul, imagining the wonderful life + which must go on behind those massive portals, the treasures outshining + the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, which required those thick, bronze bars + for their protection. And here was the mistress of all the splendour, + inviting me to come and see it from within! + </p> + <p> + She wanted to send me home in the car, but I would not have that, on + account of the push-cart men and the babies in my street; I got out and + walked—my heart beating fast, my blood leaping with exultation. I + reached home, and there on the bureau was the picture—but behold, + how changed! It was become a miracle of the art of colour-photography; its + hair was golden, its eyes a wonderful red-brown, its cheeks aglow with the + radiance of youth! And yet more amazing, the picture spoke! It spoke with + the most delicious of Southern drawls—referring to the “repo’t” of + my child-labour committee, shivering at the cold and bidding me pull the + “fu-uzz” up round me. And when I told funny stories about the Italians and + the Hebrews of my tenement-neighbourhood, it broke into silvery laughter, + and cried: “Oh, de-ah me! How que-ah!” Little had I dreamed, when I left + that picture in the morning, what a miracle was to be wrought upon it. + </p> + <p> + I knew, of course, what was the matter with me; the symptoms were + unmistakable. After having made up my mind that I was an old woman, and + that there was nothing more in life for me save labour—here the + little archer had come, and with the sharpest of his golden arrows, had + shot me through. I had all the thrills, the raptures and delicious agonies + of first love; I lived no longer in myself, but in the thought of another + person. Twenty times a day I looked at my picture, and cried aloud: “Oh, + beautiful, beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + I do not know how much of her I have been able to give. I have told of our + first talk—but words are so cold and dead! I stop and ask: What + there is, in all nature, that has given me the same feeling? I remember + how I watched the dragon-fly emerging from its chrysalis. It is soft and + green and tender; it clings to a branch and dries its wings in the sun, + and when the miracle is completed, there for a brief space it poises, + shimmering with a thousand hues, quivering with its new-born ecstasy. And + just so was Sylvia; a creature from some other world than ours, as yet + unsoiled by the dust and heat of reality. It came to me with a positive + shock, as a terrifying thing, that there should be in this world of strife + and wickedness any young thing that took life with such intensity, that + was so palpitating with eagerness, with hope, with sympathy. Such was the + impression that one got of her, even when her words most denied it. She + might be saying world-weary and cynical things, out of the maxims of Lady + Dee; but there was still the eagerness, the sympathy, surging beneath and + lifting her words. + </p> + <p> + The crown of her loveliness was her unconsciousness of self. Even though + she might be talking of herself, frankly admitting her beauty, she was + really thinking of other people, how she could get to them to help them. + This I must emphasize, because, apart from jesting, I would not have it + thought that I had fallen under the spell of a beautiful countenance, + combined with a motor-car and a patrician name. There were things about + Sylvia that were aristocratic, that could be nothing else; but she could + be her same lovely self in a cottage—as I shall prove to you before + I finish with the story of her life. + </p> + <p> + I was in love. At that time I was teaching myself German, and I sat one + day puzzling out two lines of Goethe: + </p> + <p> + “Oden and Thor, these two thou knowest; Freya, the heavenly, knowest thou + not.” + </p> + <p> + And I remember how I cried aloud in sudden delight: <i>“I know her!”</i> + For a long time that was one of my pet names—“Freya dis Himmlische!” + I only heard of one other that I preferred—when in course of time + she told me about Frank Shirley, and how she had loved him, and how their + hopes had been wrecked. He had called her “Lady Sunshine”; he had been + wont to call it over and over in his happiness, and as Sylvia repeated it + to me—“Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!” I could imagine that I caught + an echo of the very tones of Frank Shirley’s voice. + </p> + <p> + 10. For several days I waited upon the postman, and when the summons came + I dodged a committee-meeting, and ascended the marble stairs with + trepidation, and underwent the doubting scrutiny of an English lackey, + sufficiently grave in deportment and habiliments to have waited upon a + bishop in his own land. I have a vague memory of an entrance-hall with + panelled paintings and a double-staircase with a snow-white carpet, about + which I had read in the newspapers that it was woven in one piece, and had + cost an incredible sum. One did not have to profane it with his feet, as + there was an elevator provided. + </p> + <p> + I was shown to Sylvia’s morning-room, which had been “done” in pink and + white and gold by some decorator who had known her colours. It was large + enough to have held half-a-dozen of my own quarters, and the sun was + allowed to flood it. Through a door at one side came Sylvia, holding out + her hands to me. + </p> + <p> + She was really glad to see me! She began to apologize at once for the time + she had taken to write. It was because she had so much to do. She had + married into a world that took itself seriously: the “idle rich,” who + worked like slaves. “You know,” she said, while we sat on a pink satin + couch, and a footman brought us coffee: “you read that Mrs. So-and-so is a + ‘social queen,’ and you think it’s a newspaper phrase, but it isn’t; she + really feels that she’s a queen, and other people feel it, and she goes + through her ceremonies as solemnly as the Lord’s anointed.” + </p> + <p> + She went on to tell me some of her adventures. She had a keen sense of + fun, and was evidently suffering for an outlet for it. She saw through the + follies and pretences of people in a flash, but they were all such august + and important people that, out of regard for her husband, she dared not + let them suspect her clairvoyant power. + </p> + <p> + She referred to her experiences abroad. She had not liked Europe—being + quite frankly a provincial person. To Castleman County a foreigner was a + strange, dark person who mixed up his consonants, and was under suspicion + of being a fiddler or an opera-singer. The people she had met under her + husband’s charge had been socially indubitable, but still, they were + foreigners, and Sylvia could never really be sure what they meant. + </p> + <p> + There was, for instance, the young son of a German steel-king, a person of + amazing savoir faire, who had made bold to write books and exhibit + pictures, and had travelled so widely that he had even heard of Castleman + County. He had taken Sylvia to show her the sights of Berlin, and had + rolled her down the “Sieges Allée,” making outrageous fun of his Kaiser’s + taste in art, and coming at last to a great marble column, with a female + figure representing Victory upon the top. “You will observe,” said the + cultured young plutocrat, “that the Grecian lady stands a hundred meters + in the air, and has no stairway. There is a popular saying about her which + is delightful—that she is the only chaste woman in Berlin!” + </p> + <p> + I had been through the culture-seeking stage, and knew my Henry James; so + I could read between the lines of Sylvia’s experiences. I figured her as a + person walking on volcanic ground, not knowing her peril, but vaguely + disquieted by a smell of sulphur in the air. And once in a while a crack + would open in the ground! There was the Duke of Something in Rome, for + example, a melancholy young man, with whom she had coquetted, as she did, + in her merry fashion, with every man she met. Being married, she had taken + it for granted that she might be as winsome as she chose; but the young + Italian had misunderstood the game, and had whispered words of serious + import, which had so horrified Sylvia that she flew to her husband and + told him the story—begging him incidentally not to horse-whip the + fellow. In reply it had to be explained to her she had laid herself liable + to the misadventure. The ladies of the Italian aristocracy were severe and + formal, and Sylvia had no right to expect an ardent young duke to + understand her native wildness. + </p> + <p> + 11. Something of that sort was always happening—something in each + country to bewilder her afresh, and to make it necessary for her husband + to remind her of the proprieties. In France, a cousin of van Tuiver’s had + married a marquis, and they had visited the chateau. The family was + Catholic, of the very oldest and strictest, and the brother-in-law, a + prelate of high degree, had invited the guests to be shown through his + cathedral. “Imagine my bewilderment!” said Sylvia. “I thought I was going + to meet a church dignitary, grave and reverent; but here was a wit, a man + of the world. Such speeches you never heard! I was ravished by the + grandeur of the building, and I said: ‘If I had seen this, I would have + come to you to be married.’ ‘Madame is an American,’ he replied. ‘Come the + next time!’ When I objected that I was not a Catholic, he said: ‘Your + beauty is its own religion!’ When I protested that he would be doing me + too great an honour, ‘Madame,’ said he, ‘the <i>honneur</i> would be all + to the church!’ And because I was shocked at all this, I was considered to + be a provincial person!” + </p> + <p> + Then they had come to London, a dismal, damp city where you “never saw the + sun, and when you did see it it looked like a poached egg”; where you had + to learn to eat fish with the help of a knife, and where you might speak + of bitches, but must never on any account speak of your stomach. They went + for a week-end to “Hazelhurst,” the home of the Dowager Duchess of + Danbury, whose son van Tuiver, had entertained in America, and who, in the + son’s absence, claimed the right to repay the debt. The old lady sat at + table with two fat poodle dogs in infants’ chairs, one on each side of + her, feeding out of golden trays. There was a visiting curate, a + frightened little man at the other side of one poodle; in an effort to be + at ease he offered the wheezing creature a bit of bread. “Don’t feed my + dogs!” snapped the old lady. “I don’t allow anybody to feed my dogs!” + </p> + <p> + And then there was the Honourable Reginald Annersley, the youngest son of + the family, home from Eton on vacation. The Honourable Reginald was twelve + years of age, undersized and ill-nourished. (“They feed them badly,” his + mother had explained, “an’ the teachin’s no good either, but it’s a school + for gentlemen.”) “Honestly,” said Sylvia, “he was the queerest little + mannikin—like the tiny waiter’s assistants you see in hotels on the + Continent. He wore his Eton suit, you understand—grown-up evening + clothes minus the coat-tails, and a top hat. He sat at tea and chatted + with the mincing graces of a cotillion-leader; you expected to find some + of his hair gone when he took off his hat! He spoke of his brother, the + duke, who had gone off shooting seals somewhere. ‘The jolly rotter has + nothing to do but spend his money; but we younger sons have to work like + dogs when we grow up!’ I asked what he’d do, and he said ‘I suppose + there’s nothin’ but the church. It’s a beastly bore, but you do get a + livin’ out of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “That was too much for me,” said Sylvia. “I proceeded to tell the poor, + blasé infant about my childhood; how my sister Celeste and I had caught + half-tamed horses and galloped about the pasture on them, when we were so + small that our little fat legs stuck out horizontally; how we had given + ourselves convulsions in the green apple orchard, and had to be spanked + every day before we had our hair combed. I told how we heard a war-story + about a ‘train of gunpowder,’ and proceeded to lay such a train about the + attic of Castleman Hall, and set fire to it. I might have spent the + afternoon teaching the future churchman how to be a boy, if I hadn’t + suddenly caught a glimpse of my husband’s face!” + </p> + <p> + 12. I did not hear these stories all at once. I have put them together + here because they make a little picture of her honeymoon, and also because + they show how, without meaning it, she was giving me an account of her + husband. + </p> + <p> + There had been even fewer adventures in the life of young Douglas van + Tuiver than in the life of the Honourable Reginald Annersley. When one + heard the details of the up-bringing of this “millionaire baby,” one was + able to forgive him for being self-centred. He had grown into a man who + lived to fulfil his social duties, and he had taken to wife a girl who was + reckless, high-spirited, with a streak of almost savage pride in her. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia’s was the true aristocratic attitude towards the rest of the world. + It could never have occurred to her to imagine that anywhere upon the + whole earth there were people superior to the Castlemans of Castleman + County. If you had been ignorant enough to suggest such an idea, you would + have seen her eyes flash and her nostrils quiver; you would have been + enveloped in a net of bewilderment and transfixed with a trident of + mockery and scorn. That was what she had done in her husband-hunt. The + trouble was that van Tuiver was not clever enough to realise this, and to + trust her prowess against other beasts in the social jungle. + </p> + <p> + Strange to me were such inside glimpses into the life of these two + favourites of the gods! I never grew weary of speculating about them, and + the mystery of their alliance. How had Sylvia come to make this marriage? + She was not happy with him; keen psychologist that she was, she must have + foreseen that she would not be happy with him. Had she deliberately + sacrificed herself, because of the good she imagined she could do to her + family? + </p> + <p> + I was beginning to believe this. Irritated as she was by the solemn + snobberies of van Tuiver’s world, it was none the less true that she + believed in money; she believed in it with a faith which appalled me as I + came to realise it. Everybody had to have money; the social graces, the + aristocratic virtues were impossible without it. The rich needed it—even + the poor needed it! Could it be that the proud Castlemans of Castleman + County had needed it also? + </p> + <p> + If that guess at her inmost soul was correct, then what a drama was her + meeting with me! A person who despised money, who had proven it by grim + deeds—and this a person of her own money-worshipping sex! What was + the meaning of this phenomenon—this new religion that was + challenging the priesthood of Mammon? So some Roman consul’s daughter + might have sat in her father’s palace, and questioned in wonder a + Christian slave woman, destined ere long to face the lions in the arena. + </p> + <p> + The exactness of this simile was not altered by the fact that in this case + the slave woman was an agnostic, while the patrician girl had been brought + up in the creed of Christ. Sylvia had long since begun to question the + formulas of a church whose very pews were rented, and whose existence, she + declared, had to be justified by charity to the poor. As we sat and + talked, she knew this one thing quite definitely—that I had a + religion, and she had none. That was the reason for the excitement which + possessed her. + </p> + <p> + Nor was that fact ever out of my own mind for a moment. As she sat there + in her sun-flooded morning-room, clad in an exquisite embroidered robe of + pink Japanese silk, she was such a lovely thing that I was ready to cry + out for joy of her; and yet there was something within me, grim and + relentless, that sat on guard, warning me that she was of a different + faith from mine, and that between those two faiths there could be no + compromise. Some day she must find out what I thought of her husband’s + wealth, and the work it was doing in the world! Some day she must hear my + real opinion of the religion of motor-cars and hand-woven carpets! + </p> + <p> + 13. Nor was the day so very far off. She sat opposite me, leaning forward + in her eagerness, declaring: “You must help to educate me. I shall never + rest until I’m of some real use in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you thought of doing?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know yet. My husband has an aunt who’s interested in a + day-nursery for the children of working-women. I thought I might help + this, but my husband says it does no good whatever—it only makes + paupers of the poor. Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I think more than that,” I replied. “It sets women free to compete with + men, and beat down men’s wages.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a puzzle!” she exclaimed, and then: “Is there any way of helping + the poor that wouldn’t be open to the same objection?” + </p> + <p> + That brought us once more to the subject I had put aside at our last + meeting. She had not forgotten it, and asked again for an explanation. + What did I mean by the competitive wage system? + </p> + <p> + My purpose in this writing is to tell the story of Sylvia Castleman’s + life, to show, not merely what she was, but what she became. I have to + make real to you a process of growth in her soul, and at this moment the + important event is her discovery of the class-struggle and her reaction to + it. You may say, perhaps, that you are not interested in the + class-struggle, but you cannot alter the fact that you live in an age when + millions of people are having the course of their lives changed by the + discovery of it. Here, for instance, is a girl who has been taught to keep + her promises, and has promised to love, honour and obey a man; she is to + find the task more difficult, because she comes to understand the + competitive wage-system while he does not understand it and does not wish + to. If that seems to you strange material out of which to make a domestic + drama, I can only tell you that you have missed some of the vital facts of + your own time. + </p> + <p> + I gave her a little lesson in elementary economics. I showed her how, when + a capitalist needed labour, he bought it in the open market, like any + other commodity. He did not think about the human side of it, he paid the + market-price, which came to be what the labourer had to have in order to + live. No labourer could get more, because others would take less. + </p> + <p> + “If that be true,” I continued, “one of the things that follows is the + futility of charity. Whatever you do for the wage-worker on a general + scale comes sooner or later out of his wages. If you take care of his + children all day or part of the day, he can work for less; if he doesn’t + discover that someone else does, and underbids him and takes his place. If + you feed his children at school, if you bury him free, if you insure his + life, or even give him a dinner on Christmas Day, you simply enable his + landlord to charge him more, or his employer to pay him less.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia sat for a while in thought, and then asked: “What can be done about + such a fact?” + </p> + <p> + “The first thing to be done is to make sure that you understand it. + Nine-tenths of the people who concern themselves with social questions + don’t, and so they waste their time in futilities. For instance, I read + the other day an article by a benevolent old gentleman who believed that + the social problem could be solved by teaching the poor to chew their food + better, so that they would eat less. You may laugh at that, but it’s not a + bit more absurd than the idea of our men of affairs, that the thing to do + is to increase the efficiency of the workers, and so produce more goods.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the working-man doesn’t get more, even when he produces more?” + </p> + <p> + “Take the case of the glass factories. Men used to get eight dollars a day + there, but someone invented a machine that did the work of a dozen men, + and that machine is run by a boy for fifty cents a day.” + </p> + <p> + A little pucker of thought came between her eyes. “Might there not be a + law forbidding the employer to reduce wages?” + </p> + <p> + “A minimum wage law. But that would raise the cost of the product, and + drive the trade to another state.” + </p> + <p> + She suggested a national law, and when I pointed out that the trade would + go to other countries, she fell back on the tariff. I felt like an + embryologist—watching the individual repeating the history of the + race! + </p> + <p> + “Protection and prosperity!” I said, with a smile. “Don’t you see the + increase in the cost of living? The working-man gets more money in his pay + envelope, but he can’t buy more with it because prices go up. And even + supposing you could pass a minimum wage law, and stop competition in + wages, you’d only change it to competition in efficiency—you’d throw + the old and the feeble and the untrained into pauperism.” + </p> + <p> + “You make the world seem a hard place to live in,” protested Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “I’m simply telling you the elementary facts of business. You can forbid + the employer to pay less than a standard wage, but you can’t compel him to + employ people who aren’t able to earn that wage. The business-man doesn’t + employ for fun, he does it for the profit there is in it.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is true,” said Sylvia, quickly, “then the way of employing people + is cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “But what other way could you have?” + </p> + <p> + She considered. “They could be employed so that no one would make a + profit. Then surely they could be paid enough to live decently!” + </p> + <p> + “But whose interest would it be to employ them without profit?” + </p> + <p> + “The State should do it, if no one else will.” + </p> + <p> + I had been playing a game with Sylvia, as no doubt you have perceived. + “Surely,” I said, “you wouldn’t approve anything like that!” + </p> + <p> + “But why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, it would be Socialism.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me startled. “Is that Socialism?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is. It’s the essence of Socialism.” + </p> + <p> + “But then—what’s the harm in it?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “I thought you said that Socialism was a menace, like divorce!” + </p> + <p> + I had my moment of triumph, but then I discovered how fond was the person + who imagined that he could play with Sylvia. “I suspect you are something + of a Socialist yourself,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + She told me a long time afterwards what had been her emotions during these + early talks. It was the first time in her life that she had ever listened + to ideas that were hostile to her order, and she did so with tremblings + and hesitations, combating at every step an impulse to flee to the shelter + of conventionality. She was more shocked by my last revelation than she + let me suspect. It counted for little that I had succeeded in trapping her + in proposing for herself the economic programme of Socialism, for what + terrifies her class is not our economic programme, it is our threat of + slave-rebellion. I had been brought up in a part of the world where + democracy is a tradition, a word to conjure with, and I supposed that this + would be the case with any American—that I would only have to prove + that Socialism was democracy applied to industry. How could I have + imagined the kind of “democracy” which had been taught to Sylvia by her + Uncle Mandeville, the politician of the family, who believed that America + was soon to have a king, to keep the “foreign riff-raff” in its place! + </p> + <p> + 14. At this time I was living in a three-roomed apartment in one of the + new “model tenements” on the East Side. I had a saying about the place, + that it was “built for the proletariat and occupied by cranks.” What an + example for Sylvia of the futility of charity—the effort on the part + of benevolent capitalists to civilise the poor by putting bath-tubs in + their homes, and the discovery that the graceless creatures were using + them for the storage of coals! + </p> + <p> + Having heard these strange stories, Sylvia was anxious to visit me, and I + was, of course, glad to invite her. I purchased a fancy brand of tea, and + some implements for the serving of it, and she came, and went into + raptures over my three rooms and bath, no one of which would have made + more than a closet in her own apartments. I suspected that this was her + Southern <i>noblesse oblige</i>, but I knew also that in my living room + there were some rows of books, which would have meant more to Sylvia van + Tuiver just then than the contents of several clothes-closets. + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to discover that my efforts had not been wasted. She had + been thinking, and she had even found time, in the midst of her + distractions, to read part of a book. In the course of our talks I had + mentioned Veblen, and she had been reading snatches of his work on the + Leisure Class, and I was surprised, and not a little amused, to observe + her reaction to it. + </p> + <p> + When I talked about wages and hours of labour, I was dealing with things + that were remote from her, and difficult to make real; but Veblen’s theme, + the idle rich, and the arts and graces whereby they demonstrate their + power, was the stuff of which her life was made. The subtleties of social + ostentation, the minute distinctions between the newly-rich and the + anciently-rich, the solemn certainties of the latter and the quivering + anxieties of the former—all those were things which Sylvia knew as a + bird knows the way of the wind. To see the details of them analysed in + learned, scientific fashion, explained with great mouthfuls of words which + one had to look up in the dictionary—that was surely a new discovery + in the book-world! “Conspicuous leisure!” “Vicarious consumption of + goods!” “Oh, de-ah me, how que-ah!” exclaimed Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + And what a flood of anecdotes it let loose! A flood that bore us straight + back to Castleman Hall, and to all the scenes of her young ladyhood! If + only Lady Dee could have revised this book of Veblen’s, how many points + she could have given to him! No details had been too minute for the + technique of Sylvia’s great-aunt—the difference between the swish of + the right kind of silk petticoats and the wrong kind; and yet her + technique had been broad enough to take in a landscape. “Every girl should + have a background,” had been one of her maxims, and Sylvia had to have a + special phaeton to drive, a special horse to ride, special roses which no + one else was allowed to wear. + </p> + <p> + “Conspicuous expenditure of time,” wrote Veblen. It was curious, said + Sylvia, but nobody was free from this kind of vanity. There was dear old + Uncle Basil, a more godly bishop never lived, and yet he had a foible for + carving! In his opinion the one certain test of a gentleman was the ease + with which he found the joints of all kinds of meat, and he was in arms + against the modern tendency to turn such accomplishments over to butlers. + He would hold forth on the subject, illustrating his theories with an + elegant knife, and Sylvia remembered how her father and the Chilton boys + had wired up the joints of a duck for the bishop to work on. In the + struggle the bishop had preserved his dignity, but lost the duck, and the + bishop’s wife, being also high-born, and with a long line of traditions + behind her, had calmly continued the conversation, while the butler + removed the smoking duck from her lap! + </p> + <p> + Such was the way of things at Castleman Hall! The wild, care-free people—like + half-grown children, romping their way through life! There was really + nothing too crazy for them to do, if the whim struck them. Once a visiting + cousin had ventured the remark that she saw no reason why people should + not eat rats; a barn-rat was clean in its person, and far choicer in its + food than a pig. Thereupon “Miss Margaret” had secretly ordered the + yard-man to secure a barn-rat; she had had it broiled, and served in a + dish of squirrels, and had sat by and watched the young lady enjoy it! And + this, mind you, was Mrs. Castleman of Castleman Hall, mother of five + children, and as stately a dame as ever led the grand march at the + Governor’s inaugural ball! “Major Castleman,” she would say to her + husband, “you may take me into my bedroom, and when you have locked the + door securely, you may spit upon me, if you wish; but don’t you dare even + to <i>imagine</i> anything undignified about me in public!” + </p> + <p> + 15. In course of time Sylvia and I became very good friends. Proud as she + was, she was lonely, and in need of some one to open her eager mind to. + Who was there safer to trust than this plain Western woman, who lived so + far, both in reality and in ideas, from the great world of fashion? + </p> + <p> + Before we parted she considered it necessary to mention my relationship to + this world. She had a most acute social conscience. She knew exactly what + formalities she owed to everyone, just when she ought to call, and how + long she ought to stay, and what she ought to ask the other person to do + in return; she assumed that the other knew it all exactly as well, and + would suffer if she failed in the slightest degree. + </p> + <p> + So now she had to throw herself upon my mercy. “You see,” she explained, + “my husband wouldn’t understand. I may be able to change him gradually, + but if I shock him all at once—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. van Tuiver—” I smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t really imagine!” she persisted. “You see, he takes his social + position so seriously! And when you are conspicuous—when everybody’s + talking about what you do—when everything that’s the least bit + unusual is magnified—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl!” I broke in again. “Stop a moment and let me talk!” + </p> + <p> + “But I hate to have to think—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry about my thoughts! They are most happy ones! You must + understand that a Socialist cannot feel about such things as you do; we + work out our economic interpretation of them, and after that they are + simply so much data to us. I might meet one of your great friends, and she + might snub me, but I would never think she had snubbed <i>me</i>—it + would be my Western accent, and my forty-cent hat, and things like that + which had put me in a class in her mind. My real self nobody can snub—certainly + not until they’ve got at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Sylvia, with shining eyes. “You have your own kind of + aristocracy, I see!” + </p> + <p> + “What I want,” I said, “is you. I’m an old hen whose chickens have grown + up and left her, and I want something to mother. Your wonderful social + world is just a bother to me, because it keeps me from gathering you into + my arms as I’d like to. So what you do is to think of some role for me to + play, so that I can come to see you; let me be advising you about your + proposed day-nursery, or let me be a tutor of something, or a nice, + respectable sewing-woman who darns the toes of your silk stockings!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “If you suppose that I’m allowed to wear my stockings until + they have holes in them, you don’t understand the perquisites of maids.” + She thought a moment, and then added: “You might come to trim hats for + me.” + </p> + <p> + By that I knew that we were really friends. If it does not seem to you a + bold thing for Sylvia to have made a joke about my hat, it is only because + you do not yet know her. I have referred to her money-consciousness and + her social-consciousness; I would be idealizing her if I did not refer to + another aspect of her which appalled me when I came to realise it—her + clothes-consciousness. She knew every variety of fabric and every shade of + colour and every style of design that ever had been delivered of the + frenzied sartorial imagination. She had been trained in all the infinite + minutiae which distinguished the right from the almost right; she would + sweep a human being at one glance, and stick him in a pigeon hole of her + mind for ever—because of his clothes. When later on she had come to + be conscious of this clothes-consciousness, she told me that ninety-nine + times out of a hundred she had found this method of appraisal adequate for + the purposes of society life. What a curious comment upon our civilization—that + all that people had to ask of one another, all they had to give to one + another, should be expressible in terms of clothes! + </p> + <p> + 16. I had set out to educate Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver in the things I + thought she needed to know. A part of my programme was to find some people + of modern sympathies whom she might meet without offence to her old + prejudices. The first person I thought of was Mrs. Jessie Frothingham, who + was the head of a fashionable girls’ school, just around the corner from + Miss Abercrombie’s where Sylvia herself had received the finishing touch. + Mrs. Frothingham’s was as exclusive and expensive a school as the most + proper person could demand, and great was Sylvia’s consternation when I + told her that its principal was a member of the Socialist party, and made + no bones about speaking in public for us. + </p> + <p> + How in the world did she manage it? For one thing, I answered, she ran a + good school—nobody had ever been heard to deny that. For another, + she was an irresistibly serene and healthy person, who would look one of + her millionaire “papas” in the eye and tell him what was what with so much + decision; it would suddenly occur to the great man that if his daughter + could be made into so capable a woman, he would not care what ticket she + might vote. + </p> + <p> + Then too, it was testimony to the headway we are making that we are + ceasing to be dangerous, and getting to be picturesque. In these days of + strenuous social competition, when mammas are almost at their wits’ end + for some new device, when it costs incredible sums to make no impression + at all—here was offered a new and inexpensive way of being unique. + There could be no question that men were getting to like serious women; + the most amazing subjects were coming up at dinner-parties, and you might + hear the best people speak disrespectfully of their own money, which means + that the new Revolution will have not merely its “Egalité Orleans,” but + also some of the ladies of his family! + </p> + <p> + I telephoned from Sylvia’s house to Mrs. Frothingham, who answered: + “Wouldn’t you like Mrs. van Tuiver to hear a speech? I am to speak next + week at the noon-day Wall Street meeting.” I passed the question on, and + Sylvia answered with an exclamation of delight: “Would a small boy like to + attend a circus?” + </p> + <p> + It was arranged that Sylvia was to take us in her car. You may picture me + with my grand friends—an old speckled hen in the company of two + golden pheasants. I kept very quiet and let them get acquainted, knowing + that my cause was safe in the hands of one so perfectly tailored as Mrs. + Frothingham. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia expressed her delight at the idea of hearing a Socialist speech, + and her amazement that the head of Mrs. Frothingham’s should be so + courageous, and meantime we threaded our way through the tangle of trucks + and surface-cars on Broadway, and came to the corner of Wall Street. Here + Mrs. Frothingham said she would get out and walk; it was quite likely that + someone might recognise Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, and she ought not to be + seen arriving with the speaker. Sylvia, who would not willingly have + committed a breach of etiquette towards a bomb-throwing anarchist, + protested at this, but Mrs. Frothingham laughed good-naturedly, saying + that it would be time enough for Mrs. van Tuiver to commit herself when + she knew what she believed. + </p> + <p> + The speaking was to be from the steps of the Sub-treasury. We made a <i>détour,</i> + and came up Broad Street, stopping a little way from the corner. These + meetings had been held all through the summer and fall, so that people had + learned to expect them; although it lacked some minutes of noon, there was + already a crowd gathered. A group of men stood upon the broad steps, one + with a red banner and several others with armfuls of pamphlets and books. + With them was our friend, who looked at us and smiled, but gave no other + sign of recognition. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia pushed back the collar of her sable coat, and sat erect in her + shining blue velvet, her eyes and her golden hair shining beneath the + small brim of a soft velvet hat. As she gazed eagerly at the busy throngs + of men hurrying about this busy corner, she whispered to me: “I haven’t + been so excited since my <i>début</i> party!” + </p> + <p> + The crowd increased until it was difficult to get through Wall Street. The + bell of Old Trinity was tolling the hour of noon, and the meeting was + about to begin, when suddenly I heard an exclamation from Sylvia, and + turning, saw a well-dressed man pushing his way from the office of Morgan + and Company towards us. Sylvia clutched my hand where it lay on the seat + of the car, and half gasped: “My husband!” + </p> + <p> + 17. Of course I had been anxious to see Douglas van Tuiver. I had heard + Claire Lepage’s account of him, and Sylvia’s, also I had seen pictures of + him in the newspapers, and had studied them with some care, trying to + imagine what sort of personage he might be. I knew that he was + twenty-four, but the man who came towards us I would have taken to be + forty. His face was sombre, with large features and strongly marked lines + about the mouth; he was tall and thin, and moved with decision, betraying + no emotion even in this moment of surprise. “What are you doing here?” + were his first words. + </p> + <p> + For my part, I was badly “rattled”; I knew by the clutch of Sylvia’s hand + that she was too. But here I got a lesson in the nature of “social + training.” Some of the bright colour had faded from her face, but she + spoke with the utmost coolness, the words coming naturally and simply: “We + can’t get through the crowd.” And at the same time she looked about her, + as much as to say: “You can see for yourself.” (One of the maxims of Lady + Dee had set forth that a lady never told a lie if she could avoid it.) + </p> + <p> + Sylvia’s husband looked about, saying: “Why don’t you call an officer?” He + started to follow his own suggestion, and I thought then that my friend + would miss her meeting. But she had more nerve than I imagined. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “Please don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Still there was no emotion in the cold, grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Because—I think there’s something going on.” + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not in a hurry, and I’d like to see.” + </p> + <p> + He stood for a moment looking at the crowd. Mrs. Frothingham had come + forward, evidently intending to speak. “What is this, Ferris?” he demanded + of the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure, sir,” said the man. “I think it’s a Socialist meeting.” (He + was, of course, not missing the little comedy. I wondered what he + thought!) + </p> + <p> + “A Socialist meeting?” said van Tuiver; then, to his wife: “You don’t want + to stay for that!” + </p> + <p> + Again Sylvia astonished me. “I’d like to very much,” she answered simply. + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. I saw him stare at her, and then I saw his glance take + me in. I sat in a corner as inconspicuous as I could make myself. I + wondered whether I was a sempstress or a tutor, and whether either of + these functionaries were introduced, and whether they shook hands or not. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Frothingham had taken her stand at the base of Washington’s statue. + Had she by any chance identified the tall and immaculate gentleman who + stood beside the automobile? Before she had said three sentences I made + sure that she had done so, and I was appalled at her audacity. + </p> + <p> + “Fellow citizens,” she began—“fellow-buccaneers of Wall Street.” And + when the mild laughter had subsided: “What I have to say is going to be + addressed to one individual among you—the American millionaire. I + assume there is one present—if no actual millionaire, then surely + several who are destined to be, and not less than a thousand who aspire to + be. So hear me, Mr. Millionaire,” this with a smile, which gave you a + sense of a reserve fund of energy and good humour. She had the crowd with + her from the start—all but one. I stole a glance at the millionaire, + and saw that he was not smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you get in?” asked his wife, and he answered coldly: “No, I’ll wait + till you’ve had enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Last summer I had a curious experience,” said the speaker. “I was a guest + at a tennis match, played upon the grounds of a State insane-asylum, the + players being the doctors of the institution. Here, on a beautiful + sunshiny afternoon, were ladies and gentlemen clad in festive white, + enjoying a holiday, while in the background stood a frowning building with + iron-barred gates and windows, from which one heard now and then the + howlings of the maniacs. Some of the less fortunate of these victims of + fate had been let loose, and while we played tennis, they chased the + balls. All afternoon, while I sipped tea and chatted and watched the + games, I said to myself: ‘Here is the most perfect simile of our + civilization that has ever come to me. Some people wear white and play + tennis all day, while other people chase the balls, or howl in dungeons in + the background!’ And that is the problem I wish to put before my American + millionaire—the problem of what I will call our lunatic-asylum stage + of civilization. Mind you, this condition is all very well so long as we + can say that the lunatics are incurable—that there is nothing we can + do but shut our ears to their howling, and go ahead with our tennis. But + suppose the idea were to dawn upon us that it is only because we played + tennis all day that the lunatic-asylum is crowded, then might not the + howls grow unendurable to us, and the game lose its charm?” + </p> + <p> + Stealing glances about me, I saw that several people were watching the + forty-or-fifty-times-over millionaire; they had evidently recognised him, + and were enjoying the joke. “Haven’t you had enough of this?” he suddenly + demanded of his wife, and she answered, guilelessly: “No, let’s wait. I’m + interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me, Mr. American Millionaire,” the speaker was continuing. + “You are the one who plays tennis, and we, who chase the balls for you—we + are the lunatics. And my purpose to-day is to prove to you that it is only + because you play tennis all day that we have to chase balls all the day, + and to tell you that some time soon we are going to cease to be lunatics, + and that then you will have to chase your own balls! And don’t, in your + amusement over this illustration, lose sight of the serious nature of what + I am talking about—the horrible economic lunacy which is known as + poverty, and which is responsible for most of the evils we have in this + world to-day—for crime and prostitution, suicide, insanity and war. + My purpose is to show you, not by any guess of mine, or any appeals to + your faith, but by cold business facts which can be understood in Wall + Street, that this economic lunacy is one which can be cured; that we have + the remedy in our hands, and lack nothing but the intelligence to apply + it.” + </p> + <p> + 18. I do not want to bore you with a Socialist speech. I only want to give + you an idea of the trap into which Mr. Douglas van Tuiver had been drawn. + He stood there, rigidly aloof while the speaker went on to explain the + basic facts of wealth-production in modern society. She quoted from + Kropotkin: “‘Fields, Factories and Work-shops,’ on sale at this meeting + for a quarter!”—showing how by modern intensive farming—no + matter of theory, but methods which were in commercial use in hundreds of + places—it would be possible to feed the entire population of the + globe from the soil of the British Isles alone. She showed by the + bulletins of the United States Government how the machine process had + increased the productive power of the individual labourer ten, twenty, a + hundred fold. So vast was man’s power of producing wealth today, and yet + the labourer lived in dire want just as in the days of crude + hand-industry! + </p> + <p> + So she came back to her millionaire, upon whom this evil rested. He was + the master of the machine for whose profit the labourer had to produce. He + could only employ the labourer to produce what could be sold at a profit; + and so the stream of prosperity was choked at its source. “It is you, Mr. + Millionaire, who are to blame for poverty; it is because so many millions + of dollars must be paid to you in profits that so many millions of men + must live in want. In other words, precisely as I declared at the outset, + it is your playing tennis which is responsible for the lunatics chasing + the balls!” + </p> + <p> + I wish that I might give some sense of the speaker’s mastery of this + situation, the extent to which she had communicated her good-humour to the + crowd. You heard ripple after ripple of laughter, you saw everywhere about + you eager faces, following every turn of the argument. No one could resist + the contagion of interest—save only the American millionaire! He + stood impassive, never once smiling, never once betraying a trace of + feeling. Venturing to watch him more closely, however, I could see the + stern lines deepening about his mouth, and his long, lean face growing + more set. + </p> + <p> + The speaker had outlined the remedy—a change from the system of + production for profit to one of production for use. She went on to explain + how the change was coming; the lunatic classes were beginning to doubt the + divine nature of the rules of the asylum, and they were preparing to + mutiny, and take possession of the place. And here I saw that Sylvia’s + husband had reached his limit. He turned to her: “Haven’t you had enough + of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” she began. “If you don’t mind—” + </p> + <p> + “I do mind very much,” he said, abruptly. “I think you are committing a + breach of taste to stay here, and I would be greatly obliged if you would + leave.” + </p> + <p> + And without really waiting for Sylvia’s reply, he directed, “Back out of + here, Ferris.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur cranked up, and sounded his horn—which naturally had + the effect of disturbing the meeting. People supposed we were going to try + to get through the crowd ahead—and there was no place where anyone + could move. But van Tuiver went to the rear of the car, saying, in a voice + of quiet authority: “A little room here, please.” And so, foot by foot, we + backed away from the meeting, and when we had got clear of the throng, the + master of the car stepped in, and we turned and made our way down Broad + Street. + </p> + <p> + And now I was to get a lesson in the aristocratic ideal. Of course van + Tuiver was angry; I believe he even suspected his wife of having known of + the meeting. I supposed he would ask some questions; I supposed that at + least he would express his opinion of the speech, his disgust that a woman + of education should make such a spectacle of herself. Such husbands as I + had been familiar with had never hesitated to vent their feelings under + such circumstances. But from Douglas van Tuiver there came—not a + word! He sat, perfectly straight, staring before him, like a sphinx; and + Sylvia, after one or two swift glances at him, began to gossip cheerfully + about her plans for the day-nursery for working-women! + </p> + <p> + So for a few blocks, until suddenly she leaned forward. “Stop here, + Ferris.” And then, turning to me, “Here is the American Trust Company.” + </p> + <p> + “The American Trust Company?” I echoed, in my dumb stupidity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that is where the check is payable,” said Sylvia, and gave me a + pinch. + </p> + <p> + And so I comprehended, and gathered up my belongings and got out. She + shook my hand warmly, and her husband raised his hat in a very formal + salute, after which the car sped on up the street. I stood staring after + it, in somewhat the state of mind of any humble rustic who may have been + present when Elijah was borne into the heavens by the chariot of fire! + </p> + <p> + 19. Sylvia had been something less than polite to me; and so I had not + been home more than an hour before there came a messenger-boy with a note. + By way of reassuring her, I promised to come to see her the next morning; + and when I did, and saw her lovely face so full of concern, I forgot + entirely her worldly greatness, and did what I had longed to do from the + beginning—put my arms about her and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” I protested, “I don’t want to be a burden in your life—I + want to help you!’” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she exclaimed, “what must you have thought—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I had made a lucky escape!” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + She was proud—proud as an Indian; it was hard for her to make + admissions about her husband. But then—we were like two errant + school-girls, who had been caught m an escapade! “I don’t know what I’m + going to do about him,” she said, with a wry smile. “He really won’t + listen—I can’t make any impression on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he guess that you’d come there on purpose?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I told him,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>told</i> him!” + </p> + <p> + “I’d meant to keep it secret—I wouldn’t have minded telling him a + fib about a little thing. But he made it so very serious!” + </p> + <p> + I could understand that it must have been serious after the telling. I + waited for her to add what news she chose. + </p> + <p> + “It seems,” she said, “that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs. + Frothingham’s. You can imagine!” + </p> + <p> + “I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil.” + </p> + <p> + “No; my husband says his Uncle Archibald always was a fool. But how can + anyone be so narrow! He seemed to take Mrs. Frothingham as a personal + affront.” + </p> + <p> + This was the most definite bit of vexation against her husband that she + had ever let me see. I decided to turn it into a jest. “Mrs. Frothingham + will be glad to know she was understood,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But seriously, why can’t men have open minds about politics and money?” + She went on in a worried voice: “I knew he was like this when I met him at + Harvard. He was living in his own house, aloof from the poorer men—the + men who were most worth while, it seemed to me. And when I told him of the + bad effect he was having on these men and on his own character as well, he + said he would do whatever I asked—he even gave up his house and went + to live in a dormitory. So I thought I had some influence on him. But now, + here is the same thing again, only I find that one can’t take a stand + against one’s husband. At least, he doesn’t admit the right.” She + hesitated. “It doesn’t seem loyal to talk about it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” I said with an impulse of candour, “there isn’t much you + can tell me about that problem. My own marriage went to pieces on that + rock.” + </p> + <p> + I saw a look of surprise upon her face. “I haven’t told you my story yet,” + I said. “Some day I will—when you feel you know me well enough for + us to exchange confidences.” + </p> + <p> + There was more than a hint of invitation in this. After a silence, she + said: “One’s instinct is to hide one’s troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I answered, “let me tell you about us. You must realise that + you’ve been a wonderful person to me; you belong to a world I never had + anything to do with, and never expected to get a glimpse of. It’s the + wickedness of our class-civilization that human beings can’t be just human + beings to each other—a king can hardly have a friend. Even after + I’ve overcome the impulse I have to be awed by your luxury and your + grandness; I’m conscious of the fact that everybody else is awed by them. + If I so much as mention that I’ve met you, I see people start and stare at + me—instantly I become a personage. It makes me angry, because I want + to know <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + She was gazing at me, not saying a word. I went on: “I’d never have + thought it possible for anyone to be in your position and be real and + straight and human, but I realise that you have managed to work that + miracle. So I want to love you and help you, in every way I know how. But + you must understand, I can’t ask for your confidence, as I could for any + other woman’s. There is too much vulgar curiosity about the rich and + great, and I can’t pretend to be unaware of that hatefulness; I can’t help + shrinking from it. So all I can say is—if you need me, if you ever + need a real friend, why, here I am; you may be sure I understand, and + won’t tell your secrets to anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + With a little mist of tears in her eyes, Sylvia put out her hand and + touched mine. And so we went into a chamber alone together, and shut the + cold and suspicious world outside. + </p> + <p> + 20. We knew each other well enough now to discuss the topic which has been + the favourite of women since we sat in the doorways of caves and pounded + wild grain in stone mortars—the question of our lords, who had gone + hunting, and who might be pleased to beat us on their return. I learned + all that Sylvia had been taught on the subject of the male animal; I + opened that amazing unwritten volume of woman traditions, the maxims of + Lady Dee Lysle. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia’s maternal great-aunt had been a great lady out of a great age, and + incidentally a grim and grizzled veteran of the sex-war. Her philosophy + started from a recognition of the physical and economic inferiority of + woman, as complete as any window-smashing suffragette could have + formulated, but her remedy for it was a purely individualist one, the + leisure-class woman’s skill in trading upon her sex. Lady Dee did not use + that word, of course—she would as soon have talked of her esophagus. + Her formula was “charm,” and she had taught Sylvia that the preservation + of “charm” was the end of woman’s existence, the thing by which she + remained a lady, and without which she was more contemptible than the + beasts. + </p> + <p> + She had taught this, not merely by example and casual anecdote, but by + precepts as solemnly expounded as bible-texts. “Remember, my dear, a woman + with a husband is like a lion-tamer with a whip!” And the old lady would + explain what a hard and dangerous life was lived by lion-tamers, how their + safety depended upon life-long distrustfulness of the creatures over whom + they ruled. She would tell stories of the rending and maiming of luckless + ones, who had forgotten for a brief moment the nature of the male animal! + “Yes, my dear,” she would say, “believe in love; but let the man believe + first!” Her maxims never sinned by verbosity. + </p> + <p> + The end of all this was not merely food and shelter, a home and children, + it was the supremacy of a sex, its ability to shape life to its whim. By + means of this magic “charm”—a sort of perpetual individual + sex-strike—a woman turned her handicaps into advantages and her + chains into ornaments; she made herself a rare and wonderful creature, up + to whom men gazed in awe. It was “romantic love,” but preserved throughout + life, instead of ceasing with courtship. + </p> + <p> + All the Castleman women understood these arts, and employed them. There + was Aunt Nannie, when she cracked her whip the dear old bishop-lion would + jump as if he had been shot! Did not the whole State know the story of how + once he had been called upon at a banquet and had risen and remarked: + “Ladies and gentlemen, I had intended to make a speech to you this + evening, but I see that my wife is present, so I must beg you to excuse + me.” The audience roared, and Aunt Nannie was furious, but poor dear + Bishop Chilton had spoken but the literal truth, that he could not spread + the wings of his eloquence in the presence of his “better half.” + </p> + <p> + And with Major Castleman, though it seemed different, it was really the + same. Sylvia’s mother had let herself get stout—which seemed a + dangerous mark of confidence in the male animal. But the major was fifteen + years older than his wife, and she had a weak heart with which to + intimidate him. Now and then the wilfulness of Castleman Lysle would + become unendurable in the house, and his father would seize him and turn + him over his knee. His screams would bring “Miss Margaret” flying to the + rescue: “Major Castleman, how dare you spank one of <i>my</i> children?” + And she would seize the boy and march off in terrible haughtiness, and + lock herself and her child in her room, and for hours afterwards the poor + major would wander about the house, suffering the lonelines of the guilty + soul. You would hear him tapping gently at his lady’s door. “Honey! Honey! + Are you mad with me?” “Major Castleman,” the stately answer would come, + “will you oblige me by leaving one room in this house to which I may + retire?” + </p> + <p> + 21. I would give you a wrong idea of Sylvia if I did not make clear that + along with this sophistication as to the play-aspects of sex, there went + the most incredible ignorance as to its practical realities. In my + arguments I had thought to appeal to her by referring to that feature of + wage-slavery which more than even child-labour stirs the moral sense of + women, but to my utter consternation I discovered that here was a woman + nearly a year married who did not know what prostitution was. A suspicion + had begun to dawn upon her, and she asked me, timidly: Could it be + possible that that intimacy which was given in marriage could become a + thing of barter in the market-place? When I told her the truth, I found + her horror so great that it was impossible to go on talking economics. How + could I say that women were driven to such things by poverty? Surely a + woman who was not bad at heart would starve, before she would sell her + body to a man! + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I should have been more patient with her, but I am bitter on these + subjects. “My dear Mrs. van Tuiver,” I said, “there is a lot of nonsense + talked about this matter. There is very little sex-life for women without + a money-price made clear in advance.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about your case,” I replied, “but when I married, it was + because I was unhappy and wanted a home of my own. And if the truth were + told, that is why most women marry.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has THAT to do with it?” she cried. She really did not see! + </p> + <p> + “What is the difference—except that such women stand out for a + maintenance, while the prostitute takes cash?” I saw that I had shocked + her, and I said: “You must be humble about these things, because you have + never been poor, and you cannot judge those who have been. But surely you + must have known worldly women who married rich men for their money. And + surely you admit that that is prostitution?” + </p> + <p> + She fell suddenly silent, and I saw what I had done, and, no doubt, you + will say I should have been ashamed of myself. But when one has seen as + much of misery and injustice as I have, one cannot be so patient with the + fine artificial delicacies and sentimentalities of the idle rich. I went + ahead to tell her some stories, showing her what poverty actually meant to + women. + </p> + <p> + Then, as she remained silent, I asked her how she had managed to remain so + ignorant. Surely she must have met with the word “prostitution” in books; + she must have heard allusions to the “demi-monde.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, “I used to see conspicuous-looking women at the + race-track in New Orleans; I’ve sat near them in restaurants, I’ve known + by my mother’s looks and her agitation that they must be bad women. But + you see, I didn’t know what it meant—I had nothing but a vague + feeling of something dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + I smiled. “Then Lady Dee did not tell you everything about the + possibilities of her system of ‘charm.’” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sylvia. “Evidently she didn’t!” She sat staring at me, trying + to get up the courage to go on with this plain speaking. + </p> + <p> + And at last the courage came. “I think it is wrong,” she exclaimed. “Girls + ought not to be kept so ignorant! They ought to know what such things + mean. Why, I didn’t even know what marriage meant!” + </p> + <p> + “Can that be true?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “All my life I had thought of marriage, in a way; I had been trained to + think of it with every eligible man I met—but to me it meant a home, + a place of my own to entertain people in. I pictured myself going driving + with my husband, giving dinner-parties to his friends. I knew I’d have to + let him kiss me, but beyond that—I had a vague idea of something, + but I didn’t think. I had been deliberately trained not to let myself + think—to run away from every image that came to me. And I went on + dreaming of what I’d wear, and how I’d greet my husband when he came home + in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you think about children?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but I thought of the CHILDREN. I thought what they’d look like, + and how they’d talk, and how I’d love them. I don’t know if many young + girls shut their minds up like that.” + </p> + <p> + She was speaking with agitation, and I was gazing into her eyes, reading + more than she knew I was reading. I was nearer to solving the problem that + had been baffling me. And I wanted to take her hands in mine, and say: + “You would never have married him if you’d understood!” + </p> + <p> + 22. Sylvia thought she ought to have been taught, but when she came to + think of it she was unable to suggest who could have done the teaching. + “Your mother?” I asked, and she had to laugh, in spite of the seriousness + of her mood. “Poor dear mamma! When they sent me up here to boarding + school, she took me off and tried to tell me not to listen to vulgar talk + from the girls. She managed to make it clear that I mustn’t listen to + something, and I managed not to listen. I’m sure that even now she would + rather have her tongue cut out than talk to me about such things.” + </p> + <p> + “I talked to my children,” I assured her. + </p> + <p> + “And you didn’t feel embarrassed?” + </p> + <p> + “I did in the beginning—I had the same shrinkings to overcome. But I + had a tragedy behind me to push me on.” + </p> + <p> + I told her the story of my nephew, a shy and sensitive lad, who used to + come to me for consolation, and became as dear to me as my own children. + When he was seventeen he grew moody and despondent; he ran away from home + for six months and more, and then returned and was forgiven—but that + seemed to make no difference. One night he came to see me, and I tried + hard to get him to tell me what was wrong. He wouldn’t, but went away, and + several hours later I found a letter he had shoved under the table-cloth. + I read it, and rushed out and hitched up a horse and drove like mad to my + brother-in-law’s, but I got there too late, the poor boy had taken a + shot-gun to his room, and put the muzzle into his mouth, and set off the + trigger with his foot. In the letter he told me what was the matter—he + had got into trouble with a woman of the town, and had caught syphilis. He + had gone away and tried to get cured, but had fallen into the hands of a + quack, who had taken all his money and left his health worse than ever, so + in despair and shame the poor boy had shot his head off. + </p> + <p> + I paused, uncertain if Sylvia would understand the story. “Do you know + what syphilis is?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose—I have heard of what we call a ‘bad disease’” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a very bad disease. But if the words convey to you that it’s a + disease that bad people get, I should tell you that most men take the + chance of getting it; yet they are cruel enough to despise those upon whom + the ill-luck falls. My poor nephew had been utterly ignorant—I found + out that from his father, too late. An instinct had awakened in him of + which he knew absolutely nothing; his companions had taught him what it + meant, and he had followed their lead. And then had come the horror and + the shame—and some vile, ignorant wretch to trade upon it, and cast + the boy off when he was penniless. So he had come home again, with his + gnawing secret; I pictured him wandering about, trying to make up his mind + to confide in me, wavering between that and the horrible deed he did.” + </p> + <p> + I stopped, because even to this day I cannot tell the story without tears. + I cannot keep a picture of the boy in my room, because of the + self-reproaches that haunt me. “You can understand,” I said to Sylvia, “I + never could forget such a lesson. I swore a vow over the poor lad’s body, + that I would never let a boy or girl that I could reach go out in + ignorance into the world. I read up on the subject, and for a while I was + a sort of fanatic—I made people talk, young people and old people. I + broke down the taboos wherever I went, and while I shocked a good many, I + knew that I helped a good many more.” + </p> + <p> + All that was, of course, inconceivable to Sylvia. How curious was the + contrast of her one experience in the matter of venereal disease. She told + me how she had been instrumental in making a match between her friend, + Harriet Atkinson and a young scion of an ancient and haughty family of + Charleston, and how after the marriage her friend’s health had begun to + give way, until now she was an utter wreck, living alone in a dilapidated + antebellum mansion, seeing no one but negro servants, and praying for + death to relieve her of her misery. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I don’t really know,” said Sylvia. “Perhaps it was this—this + disease that you speak of. None of my people would tell me—I doubt + if they really know themselves. It was just before my own wedding, so you + can understand it had a painful effect upon me. It happened that I read + something in a magazine, and I thought that—that possibly my fiancée—that + someone ought to ask him, you understand—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and the blood was crimson in her cheeks, with the memory of + her old excitement, and some fresh excitement added to it. There are + diseases of the mind as well as of the body, and one of them is called + prudery. + </p> + <p> + “I can understand,” I said. “It was certainly your right to be reassured + on such a point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I tried to talk to my Aunt Varina about it; then I wrote to Uncle + Basil, and asked him to write to Douglas. At first he refused—he + only consented to do it when I threatened to go to my father.” + </p> + <p> + “What came of it in the end?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my uncle wrote, and Douglas answered very kindly that he understood, + and that it was all right—I had nothing to fear. I never expected to + mention the incident to anyone again.” + </p> + <p> + “Lots of people have mentioned such things to me,” I responded, to + reassure her. Then after a pause: “Tell me, how was it, if you didn’t know + the meaning of marriage, how could you connect the disease with it?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, gazing with the wide-open, innocent eyes: “I had no idea how + people gave it to each other. I thought maybe they got it by kissing.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself again: The horror of this superstition of prudery! Can + one think of anything more destructive to life than the placing of a taboo + upon such matters? Here is the whole of the future at stake—the + health, the sanity, the very existence of the race. And what fiend has + been able to contrive it that we feel like criminals when we mention the + subject? + </p> + <p> + 23. Our intimacy progressed, and the time came when Sylvia told me about + her marriage. She had accepted Douglas van Tuiver because she had lost + Frank Shirley, and her heart was broken. She could never imagine herself + loving any other man; and not knowing exactly what marriage meant, it had + been easier for her to think of her family, and to follow their guidance. + They had told her that love would come; Douglas had implored her to give + him a chance to teach her to love him. She had considered what she could + do with his money—both for her home-people and for those she spoke + of vaguely as “the poor.” But now she was making the discovery that she + could not do very much for these “poor.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t that my husband is mean,” she said. “On the contrary, the + slightest hint will bring me any worldly thing I want. I have homes in + half a dozen parts of America—I have <i>carte blanche</i> to open + accounts in two hemispheres. If any of my people need money I can get it; + but if I want it for myself, he asks me what I’m doing with it—and + so I run into the stone-wall of his ideas.” + </p> + <p> + At first the colliding with this wall had merely pained and bewildered + her. But now the combination of Veblen and myself had helped her to + realize what it meant. Douglas van Tuiver spent his money upon a definite + system: whatever went to the maintaining of his social position, whatever + added to the glory, prestige and power of the van Tuiver name—that + money was well-spent; while money spent to any other end was money wasted—and + this included all ideas and “causes.” And when the master of the house + knew that his money was being wasted, it troubled him. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t until after I married him that I realized how idle his life + is,” she remarked. “At home all the men have something to do, running + their plantations, or getting elected to some office. But Douglas never + does anything that I can possibly think is useful.” + </p> + <p> + His fortune was invested in New York City real-estate, she went on to + explain. There was an office, with a small army of clerks and agents to + attend to it—a machine which had been built up and handed on to him + by his ancestors. It sufficed if he dropped in for an hour or two once a + week when he was in the city, and signed a batch of documents now and then + when he was away. His life was spent in the company of people whom the + social system had similarly deprived of duties; and they had, by + generations of experiment, built up for themselves a new set of duties, a + life which was wholly without relationship to reality. Into this unreal + existence Sylvia had married, and it was like a current sweeping her in + its course. So long as she went with it, all was well; but let her try to + catch hold of something and stop, and it would tear her loose and almost + strangle her. + </p> + <p> + As time went on, she gave me strange glimpses into this world. Her husband + did not seem really to enjoy its life. As Sylvia put it, “He takes it for + granted that he has to do all the proper things that the proper people do. + He hates to be conspicuous, he says. I point out to him that the proper + things are nearly always conspicuous, but he replies that to fail to do + them would be even more conspicuous.” + </p> + <p> + It took me a long time to get really acquainted with Sylvia, because of + the extent to which this world was clamouring for her. I used to drop in + when she ‘phoned me she had half an hour. I would find her dressing for + something, and she would send her maid away, and we would talk until she + would be late for some function; and that might be a serious matter, + because somebody would feel slighted. She was always “on pins and needles” + over such questions of precedent; it seemed as if everybody in her world + must be watching everybody else. There was a whole elaborate science of + how to treat the people you met, so that they would not feel slighted—or + so that they would feel slighted, according to circumstances. + </p> + <p> + To the enjoyment of such a life it was essential that the person should + believe in it. Douglas van Tuiver did believe in it; it was his religion, + the only one he had. (Churchman as he was, his church was a part of the + social routine.) He was proud of Sylvia, and apparently satisfied when he + could take her at his side; and Sylvia went, because she was his wife, and + that was what wives were for. She had tried her best to be happy; she had + told herself that she <i>was</i> happy yet all the time realizing that a + woman who is really happy does not have to tell herself. + </p> + <p> + Earlier in life she had quaffed and enjoyed the wine of applause. I + recollect vividly her telling me of the lure her beauty had been to her—the + most terrible temptation that could come to a woman. “I walk into a + brilliant room, and I feel the thrill of admiration that goes through the + crowd. I have a sudden sense of my own physical perfection—a glow + all over me! I draw a deep breath—I feel a surge of exaltation. I + say, ‘I am victorious—I can command! I have this supreme crown of + womanly grace—I am all-powerful with it—the world is mine!’” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke the rapture was in her voice, and I looked at her—and + yes, she was beautiful! The supreme crown was hers! + </p> + <p> + “I see other beautiful women,” she went on—and swift anger came into + her voice. “I see what they are doing with this power! Gratifying their + vanity—turning men into slaves of their whim! Squandering money upon + empty pleasures—and with the dreadful plague of poverty spreading in + the world! I used to go to my father, ‘Oh, papa, why must there be so many + poor people? Why should we have servants—why should they have to + wait on me, and I do nothing for them?’ He would try to explain to me that + it was the way of Nature. Mamma would tell me it was the will of the Lord—‘The + poor ye have always with you’—‘Servants, obey your masters’—and + so on. But in spite of the Bible texts, I felt guilty. And now I come to + Douglas with the same plea—and it only makes him angry! He has been + to college and has a lot of scientific phrases—he tells me it’s ‘the + struggle for existence,’ ‘the elimination of the unfit’—and so on. I + say to him, ‘First we make people unfit, and then we have to eliminate + them.’ He cannot see why I do not accept what learned people tell me—why + I persist in questioning and suffering.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and then added, “It’s as if he were afraid I might find out + something he doesn’t want me to! He’s made me give him a promise that I + won’t see Mrs. Frothingham again!” And she laughed. “I haven’t told him + about you!” + </p> + <p> + I answered, needless to say, that I hoped she would keep the secret! + </p> + <p> + 24. All this time I was busy with my child-labour work. We had an + important bill before the legislature that session, and I was doing what I + could to work up sentiment for it. I talked at every gathering where I + could get a hearing; I wrote letters to newspapers; I sent literature to + lists of names. I racked my mind for new schemes, and naturally, at such + times, I could not help thinking of Sylvia. How much she could do, if only + she would! + </p> + <p> + I spared no one, least of all myself, and so it was not easy to spare her. + The fact that I had met her was the gossip of the office, and everybody + was waiting for something to happen. “How about Mrs. van Tuiver?” my + “chief” would ask, at intervals. “If she would <i>only</i> go on our press + committee” my stenographer would sigh. + </p> + <p> + The time came when our bill was in committee, a place of peril for bills. + I went to Albany to see what could be done. I met half a hundred + legislators, of whom perhaps half-a-dozen had some human interest in my + subject; the rest, well, it was discouraging. Where was the force that + would stir them, make them forget their own particular little grafts, and + serve the public welfare in defiance to hostile interests? + </p> + <p> + Where was it? I came back to New York to look for it, and after a blue + luncheon with the members of our committee, I came away with my mind made + up—I would sacrifice my Sylvia to this desperate emergency. + </p> + <p> + I knew just what I had to do. So far she had heard speeches about social + wrongs, or read books about them; she had never been face to face with the + reality of them. Now I persuaded her to take a morning off, and see some + of the sights of the underworld of toil. We foreswore the royal car, and + likewise the royal furs and velvets; she garbed herself in plain appearing + dark blue and went down town in the Subway like common mortals, visiting + paper-box factories and flower factories, tenement homes where whole + families sat pasting toys and gimcracks for fourteen or sixteen hours a + day, and still could not buy enough food to make full-sized men and women + of them. + </p> + <p> + She was Dante, and I was Virgil, our inferno was an endless procession of + tortured faces—faces of women, haggard and mournful, faces of little + children, starved and stunted, dulled and dumb. Several times we stopped + to talk with these people—one little Jewess girl I knew whose three + tiny sisters had been roasted alive in a sweatshop fire. This child had + jumped from a fourth-story window, and been miraculously caught by a + fireman. She said that some man had started the fire, and been caught, but + the police had let him get away. So I had to explain to Sylvia that + curious bye-product (sic) of the profit system known as the “Arson Trust.” + Authorities estimated that incendiarism was responsible for the + destruction of a quarter of a billion dollars worth of property in America + every year. So, of course, the business of starting fires was a paying + one, and the “fire-bug,” like the “cadet” and the dive-keeper, was a part + of the “system.” So it was quite a possible thing that the man who had + burned up this little girl’s three sisters might have been allowed to + escape. + </p> + <p> + I happened to say this in the little girl’s hearing, and I saw her pitiful + strained eyes fixed upon Sylvia. Perhaps this lovely, soft-voiced lady was + a fairy god-mother, come to free her sisters from an evil spell and to + punish the wicked criminal! I saw Sylvia turn her head away, and search + for her handkerchief; as we groped our way down the dark stairs, she + caught my hand, whispering: “Oh, my God! my God!” + </p> + <p> + It had even more effect than I had intended; not only did she say that she + would do something—anything that would be of use—but she told + me as we rode back home that her mind was made up to stop the squandering + of her husband’s money. He had been planning a costume ball for a couple + of months later, an event which would keep the van Tuiver name in + condition, and would mean that he and other people would spend many + hundreds of thousands of dollars. As we rode home in the roaring Subway, + Sylvia sat beside me, erect and tense, saying that if the ball were given, + it would be without the presence of the hostess. + </p> + <p> + I struck while the iron was hot, and got her permission to put her name + upon our committee list. She said, moreover, that she would get some free + time, and be more than a mere name to us. What were the duties of a member + of our committee? + </p> + <p> + “First,” I said, “to know the facts about child-labour, as you have seen + them to-day, and second, to help other people to know.” + </p> + <p> + “And how is that to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for instance, there is that hearing before the legislative + committee. You remember I suggested that you appear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said in a low voice. I could almost hear the words that were in + her mind: “What would <i>he</i> say?” + </p> + <p> + 25. Sylvia’s name went upon our letter-heads and other literature, and + almost at once things began to happen. In a day or two there came a + reporter, saying he had noticed her name. Was it true that she had become + interested in our work? Would I please give him some particulars, as the + public would naturally want to know. + </p> + <p> + I admitted that Mrs. van Tuiver had joined the committee; she approved of + our work and desired to further it. That was all. He asked: Would she give + an interview? And I answered that I was sure she would not. Then would I + tell something about how she had come to be interested in the work? It was + a chance to assist our propaganda, added the reporter, diplomatically. + </p> + <p> + I retired to another room, and got Sylvia upon the ‘phone, “The time has + come for you to take the plunge,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I don’t want to be in the papers!” she cried “Surely, you + wouldn’t advise it!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how you can avoid having something appear. Your name is given + out, and if the man can’t get anything else, he’ll take our literature, + and write up your doings out of his imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “And they’ll print my picture with it!” she exclaimed. I could not help + laughing. “It’s quite possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what will my husband do? He’ll say ‘I told you so!’” + </p> + <p> + It is a hard thing to have one’s husband say that, as I knew by bitter + experience. But I did not think that reason enough for giving up. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have time to think it over,” said Sylvia. “Get him to wait till + to-morrow, and meantime I can see you.” + </p> + <p> + So it was arranged. I think I told Sylvia the truth when I said that I had + never before heard of a committee member who was unwilling to have his + purposes discussed in the newspapers. To influence newspapers was one of + the main purposes of committees, and I did not see how she could expect + either editors or readers to take any other view. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell the man about your trip down town,” I suggested, “then I can + go on to discuss the bill and how it bears on the evils you saw. Such a + statement can’t possibly do you harm.” + </p> + <p> + She consented, but with the understanding that she was not to be quoted + directly. “And don’t let them make me picturesque!” she exclaimed. “That’s + what my husband seems most to dread.” + </p> + <p> + I wondered if he didn’t think she was picturesque, when she sat in a + splendid, shining coach, and took part in a public parade through Central + Park. But I did not say this. I went off, and swore my reporter to abstain + from the “human touch,” and he promised and kept his word. There appeared + next morning a dignified “write-up” of Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver’s interest + in child-labour reform. Quoting me, it described some of the places she + had visited, and some of the sights which had shocked her; it went on to + tell about our committee and its work, the status of our bill in the + legislature, the need of activity on the part of our friends if the + measure was to be forced through at this session. It was a splendid + “boost” for our work, and everyone in the office was in raptures over it. + The social revolution was at hand! thought my young stenographer. + </p> + <p> + But the trouble with this business of publicity is that, however carefully + you control your interviewer, you cannot control the others who use his + material. The “afternoon men” came round for more details, and they made + it clear that it was personal details they wanted. And when I side-stepped + their questions, they went off and made up answers to suit themselves, and + printed Sylvia’s pictures, together with photographs of child-workers + taken from our pamphlets. + </p> + <p> + I called Sylvia up while she was dressing for dinner, to explain that I + was not responsible for any of this picturesqueness. “Oh, perhaps I am to + blame myself!” she exclaimed. “I think I interviewed a reporter.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman sent up her card—she told the footman she was a friend of + mine. And I thought—I couldn’t be sure if I’d met her—so I + went and saw her. She said she’d met me at Mrs. Harold Cliveden’s, and she + began to talk to me about child-labour, and this and that plan she had, + and what did I think of them, and suddenly it flashed over me: ‘Maybe this + is a reporter playing a trick on me!’” + </p> + <p> + I hurried out before breakfast next morning and got all the papers, to see + what this enterprising lady had done. There was nothing, so I reflected + that probably she had been a “Sunday” lady. + </p> + <p> + But then, when I reached my office, the ‘phone rang, and I heard the voice + of Sylvia: “Mary, something perfectly dreadful has happened!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell you over the ‘phone, but a certain person is furiously + angry. Can I see you if I come down right away?” + </p> + <p> + 26. Such terrors as these were unguessed by me in the days of my + obscurity. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, uneasy also, lies the + wife of that head, and the best friend of the wife. I dismissed my + stenographer, and spent ten or fifteen restless minutes until Sylvia + appeared. + </p> + <p> + Her story was quickly told. A couple of hours ago the acting-manager of + Mr. van Tuiver’s office had telephoned to ask if he might call upon a + matter of importance. He had come. Naturally, he had the most extreme + reluctance to say anything which might seem to criticise the activities of + Mr. van Tuiver’s wife, but there was something in the account in the + newspapers which should be brought to her husband’s attention. The + articles gave the names and locations of a number of firms in whose + factories it was alleged that Mrs. van Tuiver had found unsatisfactory + conditions, and it happened that two of these firms were located in + premises which belonged to the van Tuiver estates! + </p> + <p> + A story coming very close to melodrama, I perceived. I sat dismayed at + what I had done. “Of course, dear girl,” I said, at last, “you understand + that I had no idea who owned these buildings.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t say that!” exclaimed Sylvia. “I am the one who should have + known!” + </p> + <p> + Then for a long time I sat still and let her suffer. “Tenement + sweat-shops! Little children in factories!” I heard her whisper. + </p> + <p> + At last I put my hand on hers. “I tried to put it off for a while,” I + said. “But I knew it would have to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of me!” she exclaimed, “going about scolding other people for the + way they make their money! When I thought of my own, I had visions of + palatial hotels and office-buildings—everything splendid and clean!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, you’ve learned now, and you will be able to do something—” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon me suddenly, and for the first time I saw in her face the + passions of tragedy. “Do you believe I will be able to do anything? No! + Don’t have any such idea!” + </p> + <p> + I was struck dumb. She got up and began to pace the room. “Oh, don’t make + any mistake, I’ve paid for my great marriage in the last hour or two. To + think that he cares about nothing save the possibility of being found out + and made ridiculous! All his friends have been ‘muckraked,’ as he calls + it, and he has sat aloft and smiled over their plight; he was the landed + gentleman, the true aristrocrat, whom the worries of traders and + money-changers didn’t concern. Now perhaps he’s caught, and his name is to + be dragged in the mire, and it’s my flightiness, my lack of commonsense + that has done it!” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t let that trouble me,” I said. “You could not know—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s not that! It’s that I hadn’t a single courageous word to say to + him—not a hint that he ought to refuse to wring blood-money from + sweat-shops! I came away without having done it, because I couldn’t face + his anger, because it would have meant a quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I said gently, “it is possible to survive a quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t understand! We should never make it up again, I know—I + saw it in his words, in his face. He will never change to please me, no, + not even a simple thing like the business-methods of the van Tuiver + estates.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling. “My dear Sylvia! A simple thing!” + </p> + <p> + She came and sat beside me. “That’s what I want to talk about. It is time + I was growing up. It it time that I knew about these things. Tell me about + them.” + </p> + <p> + “What, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “About the methods of the van Tuiver estates, that can’t be changed to + please me. I made out one thing, we had recently paid a fine for some + infraction of the law in one of those buildings, and my husband said it + was because we had refused to pay more money to a tenement-house + inspector. I asked him: ‘Why should we pay any money at all to a + tenement-house inspector? Isn’t it bribery?’ He answered: ‘It’s a custom—the + same as you give a tip to a hotel waiter.’ Is that true?” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling. “Your husband ought to know, my dear,” I said. + </p> + <p> + I saw her compress her lips. “What is the tip for?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is to keep out of trouble with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But why can’t we keep out of trouble by obeying the law?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, sometimes the law is inconvenient, and sometimes it is + complicated and obscure. It might be that you are violating it without + knowing the fact. It might be uncertain whether you are violating it or + not, so that to settle the question would mean a lot of expense and + publicity. It might even be that the law is impossible to obey—that + it was not intended to be obeyed.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, maybe it was passed to put you at the mercy of the politicians.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she protested, “that would be blackmail.” + </p> + <p> + “The phrase,” I replied, “is ‘strike-legislation.’” + </p> + <p> + “But at least, that wouldn’t be our fault!” + </p> + <p> + “No, not unless you had begun it. It generally happens that the landlord + discovers it’s a good thing to have politicians who will work with him. + Maybe he wants his assessments lowered; maybe he wants to know where new + car lines are to go, so that he can buy intelligently; maybe he wants the + city to improve his neighbourhood; maybe he wants influence at court when + he has some heavy damage suit.” + </p> + <p> + “So we bribe everyone!” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily. You may simply wait until campaign-time, and then make + your contribution to the machine. That is the basis of the ‘System.’.” + </p> + <p> + “The ‘System ‘?” + </p> + <p> + “A semi-criminal police-force, and everything that pays tribute to it; the + saloon and the dive, the gambling hell the white-slave market, and the + Arson trust.” + </p> + <p> + I saw a wild look in her eyes. “Tell me, do you <i>know</i> that all these + things are true? Or are you only guessing about them?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia,” I answered, “you said it was time you grew up. For the + present I will tell you this: Several months before I met you, I made a + speech in which I named some of the organised forces of evil in the city. + One was Tammany Hall, and another was the Traction Trust, and another was + the Trinity Church Corporation, and yet another was the van Tuiver + estates.” + </p> + <p> + 27. The following Sunday there appeared a “magazine story” of an interview + with the infinitely beautiful young wife of the infinitely rich Mr. + Douglas van Tuiver, in which the views of the wife on the subject of + child-labour were liberally interlarded with descriptions of her + reception-room and her morning-gown. But mere picturesqueness by that time + had been pretty well discounted in our minds. So long as the article did + not say anything about the ownership of child-labour tenements! + </p> + <p> + I did not see Sylvia for several weeks after that. I took it for granted + that she would want some time to get herself together and make up her mind + about the future. I did not feel anxious; the seed had sprouted, and I + felt sure it would continue to grow. + </p> + <p> + Then one day she called me up, asking if I could come to see her. I + suggested that afternoon, and she said she was having tea with some people + at the Palace Hotel, and could I come there just after tea-time? I + remember the place and the hour, because of the curious adventure into + which I got myself. One hears the saying, when unexpected encounters take + place, “How small the world is!” But I thought the world was growing + really too small when I went into a hotel tea-room to wait for Sylvia, and + found myself face to face with Claire Lepage! + </p> + <p> + The place appointed had been the “orange-room”; I stood in the door-way, + sweeping the place with my eyes, and I saw Mrs. van Tuiver at the same + moment that she saw me. She was sitting at a table with several other + people and she nodded, and I took a seat to wait. From my position I could + watch her, in animated conversation; and she could send me a smile now and + then. So I was decidedly startled when I heard a voice, “Why, how do you + do?” and looked up and saw Claire holding out her hand to me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for heaven’s sake!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t come to see me any more,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no—no, I’ve been busy of late.” So much I managed to + ejaculate, in spite of my confusion. + </p> + <p> + “You seem surprised to see me,” she remarked—observant as usual, and + sensitive to other people’s attitude to her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, naturally,” I said. And then, recollecting that it was not in the + least natural—since she spent a good deal of her time in such places—I + added, “I was looking for someone else.” + </p> + <p> + “May I do in the meantime?” she inquired, taking a seat beside me. “What + are you so busy about?” + </p> + <p> + “My child-labour work,” I answered. Then, in an instant, I was sorry for + the words, thinking she must have read about Sylvia’s activities. I did + not want her to know that I had met Sylvia, for it would mean a flood of + questions, which I did not want to answer—nor yet to refuse to + answer. + </p> + <p> + But my fear was needless. “I’ve been out of town,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Whereabouts?” I asked, making conversation. + </p> + <p> + “A little trip to Bermuda.” + </p> + <p> + My mind was busy with the problem of getting rid of her. It would be + intolerable to have Sylvia come up to us; it was intolerable to know that + they were in sight of each other. + </p> + <p> + Even as the thought came to me, however, I saw Claire start. “Look!” she + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That woman there—in the green velvet! The fourth table.” + </p> + <p> + “I see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who she is?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” (I remembered Lady Dee’s maxim about lying!) + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Castleman!” whispered Claire. (She always referred to her thus—seeming + to say, “I’m as much van Tuiver as she is!”) + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” I asked—in order to say something. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen her a score of times. I seem to be always running into her. + That’s Freddie Atkins she’s talking to.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I know most of the men I see her with. But I have to walk by as if I’d + never seen them. A queer world we live in, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + I could assent cordially to that proposition. “Listen,” I broke in, + quickly. “Have you got anything to do? If not, come down to the Royalty + and have tea with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not have it here?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been waiting for someone from there, and I have to leave a message. + Then I’ll be free.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, to my vast relief, and we walked out. I could feel Sylvia’s eyes + following me; but I dared not try to send her a message—I would have + to make up some explanation afterwards. “Who was your well-dressed + friend?” I could imagine her asking; but my mind was more concerned with + the vision of what would happen if, in full sight of her companion, Mr. + Freddie Atkins, she were to rise and walk over to Claire and myself! + </p> + <p> + 28. Seated in the palm-room of the other hotel, I sipped a cup of tea + which I felt I had earned, while Claire had a little glass of the + fancy-coloured liquids which the ladies in these places affect. The room + was an aviary, with tropical plants and splashing fountains—and + birds of many gorgeous hues; I gazed from one to another of the splendid + creatures, wondering how many of them were paying for their plumage in the + same way as my present companion. It would have taken a more practiced eye + than mine to say which, for if I had been asked, I would have taken Claire + for a diplomat’s wife. She had not less than a thousand dollars’ worth of + raiment upon her, and its style made clear to all the world the fact that + it had not been saved over from a previous season of prosperity. She was a + fine creature, who could carry any amount of sail; with her bold, black + eyes she looked thoroughly competent, and it was hard to believe in the + fundamental softness of her character. + </p> + <p> + I sat, looking about me, annoyed at having missed Sylvia, and only half + listening to Claire. But suddenly she brought me to attention. “Well,” she + said, “I’ve met him.” + </p> + <p> + “Met whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at her. “Douglas van Tuiver?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded; and I suppressed a cry. + </p> + <p> + “I told you he’d come back,” she added, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You mean he came to see you?” + </p> + <p> + I could not hide my concern. But there was no need to, for it flattered + Claire’s vanity. “No—not yet, but he will. I met him at Jack + Taylor’s—at a supper-party.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he know you were to be there?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But he didn’t leave when he saw me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. I could not trust myself to say anything. But Claire + had no intention of leaving me curious. “I don’t think he’s happy with + her,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, several things. I know him, you know. He wouldn’t say he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he didn’t want to discuss it with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—not that. He isn’t reserved with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think it was dangerous to discuss one’s wife under such + circumstances,” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + Claire laughed also. “You should have heard what Jack had to say about his + wife! She’s down at Palm Beach.” + </p> + <p> + “She’d better come home,” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “He was telling what a dance she leads him; she raises Cain if a woman + looks at him—and she damns every woman he meets before the woman has + a chance to look. Jack said marriage was hell—just hell. Reggie + Channing thought it was like a pair of old slippers that you got used to.” + Jack laughed and answered, “You’re at the stage where you think you can + solve the marriage problem by deceiving your wife!” + </p> + <p> + I made no comment. Claire sat for a while, busy with her thoughts; then + she repeated, “He wouldn’t say he was happy! And he misses me, too. When + he was going, I held his hand, and said: ‘Well, Douglas, how goes it?’” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” I asked; but she would not say any more. + </p> + <p> + I waited a while, and then began, “Claire, let him alone. Give them a + chance to be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” she demanded, in a voice of hostility. + </p> + <p> + “She never harmed you,” I said. I knew I was being foolish, but I would do + what I could. + </p> + <p> + “She took him away from me, didn’t she?” And Claire’s eyes were suddenly + alight with the hatred of her outcast class. “Why did she get him? Why is + she Mrs. van Tuiver, and I nobody? Because her father was rich, because + she had power and position, while I had to scratch for myself in the + world. Is that true, or isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + I could not deny that it might be part of the truth. “But they’re married + now,” I said, “and he loves her.” + </p> + <p> + “He loves me, too. And I love him still, in spite of the way he’s treated + me. He’s the only man I ever really loved. Do you think I’m going off and + hide in a hole, while she spends his money and plays the princess up and + down the Avenue? Not much!” + </p> + <p> + I fell silent. Should I set out upon another effort at “moulding water”? + Should I give Claire one more scolding—tell her, perhaps, how her + very features were becoming hard and ugly, as a result of the feelings she + was harbouring? Should I recall the pretences of generosity and dignity + she had made when we first met? I might have attempted this—but + something held me back. After all, the one person who could decide this + issue was Douglas van Tuiver. + </p> + <p> + I rose. “Well, I have to be going. But I’ll drop round now and then, and + see what success you have.” + </p> + <p> + She became suddenly important. “Maybe I won’t tell!” + </p> + <p> + To which I answered, indifferently, “All right, it’s your secret.” But I + went off without much worry over that part of it. Claire must have some + one to whom to recount her troubles—or her triumphs, as the case + might be. + </p> + <p> + 29. I had my talk with Sylvia a day or two later, and made my excuse—a + friend from the West who had been going out of town in a few hours later. + </p> + <p> + The seed had been growing, I found. Ever since we had last met, her life + had consisted of arguments over the costume-ball on which her husband had + set his heart, and at which she had refused to play the hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, he’s right about one thing,” she remarked. “We can’t stay in + New York unless we give some big affair. Everyone expects it, and there is + no explanation except one he could not offer.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve made a big breach in your life, Sylvia,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t all you. This unhappiness has been in me—it’s been like a + boil, and you’ve been the poultice.” (She had four younger brothers and + sisters, so these domestic similes came naturally.) + </p> + <p> + “Boils,” I remarked, “are disfiguring, when they come to a head.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. “How is your child-labour bill?” she asked, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I see a letter in the paper saying it had been referred to a + sub-committee, some trick to suppress it for this session?” + </p> + <p> + I could not answer. I had been hoping she had not seen that letter. + </p> + <p> + “If I were to come forward now,” she said, “I could possibly block that + move, couldn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + Still I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “If I were to take a bold stand—I mean if I were to speak at a + public meeting, and denounce the move.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you could,” I had to admit. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she sat with her head bowed. “The children will have to + wait,” she said, at last, half to herself. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I answered (What else was there to answer?) “the children have + waited a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate to turn back—to have you say I’m a coward—” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t say that, Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be too kind, no doubt, but that will be the truth.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to reassure her. But the acids I had used—intended for + tougher skins than hers—had burned into the very bone, and now it + was not possible to stop their action. “I must make you understand,” she + said, “how serious a thing it seems to me for a wife to stand out against + her husband. I’ve been brought up to feel that it was the most terrible + thing a woman could do.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and when she went on again her face was set like one enduring + pain. “So this is the decision to which I have come. If I do anything of a + public nature now, I drive my husband from me; on the other hand, if I + take a little time, I may be able to save the situation. I need to educate + myself, and I’m hoping I may be able to educate him at the same time. If I + can get him to read something—if it’s only a few paragraphs everyday—I + may gradually change his point of view, so that he will tolerate what I + believe. At any rate, I ought to try; I am sure that is the wise and kind + and fair thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do about the ball?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to take him away, out of this rush and distraction, this + dressing and undressing, hurrying about meeting people and chattering + about nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “He is willing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; in fact, he suggested it himself. He thinks my mind is turned, with + all the things I’ve been reading, and with Mrs. Frothingham, and Mrs. + Allison, and the rest. He hopes that if I go away, I may quiet down and + come to my senses. We have a good excuse. I have to think of my health + just now—-” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and looked away from my eyes. I saw the colour spreading in a + slow wave over her cheeks; it was like those tints of early dawn that are + so ravishing to the souls of poets. “In four or five months from now—-” + And she stopped again. + </p> + <p> + I put my big hand gently over her small one. “I have three children of my + own,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “So,” she went on, “it won’t seem so unreasonable. Some people know, and + the rest will guess, and there won’t be any talk—I mean, such as + there would be if it was rumoured that Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver had got + interested in Socialism, and refused to spend her husband’s money.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” I replied. “It’s quite the most sensible thing, and I’m + glad you’ve found a way out. I shall miss you, of course, but we can write + each other long letters. Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not absolutely sure. Douglas suggests a cruise in the West Indies, + but I think I should rather be settled in one place. He has a lovely house + in the mountains of North Carolina, and wants me to go there; but it’s a + show-place, with rich homes all round, and I know I’d soon be in a social + whirl. I thought of the camp in the Adirondacks. It would be glorious to + see the real woods in winter; but I lose my nerve when I think of the cold—I + was brought up in a warm place.” + </p> + <p> + “A ‘camp’ sounds rather primitive for one in your condition,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “That’s because you haven’t been there. In reality it’s a big house, with + twenty-five rooms, and steam-heat and electric lights, and half a dozen + men to take care of it when it’s empty—as it has been for several + years.” + </p> + <p> + I smiled—for I could read her thought. “Are you going to be unhappy + because you can’t occupy all your husband’s homes?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s one other I prefer,” she continued, unwilling to be made to + smile. “They call it a ‘fishing lodge,’ and it’s down in the Florida Keys. + They’re putting a railroad through there, but meantime you can only get to + it by a launch. From the pictures, it’s the most heavenly spot imaginable. + Fancy running about those wonderful green waters in a motor-boat!” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds quite alluring,” I replied. “But isn’t it remote for you?” + </p> + <p> + “We’re not so very far from Key West; and my husband means to have a + physician with us in any case. The advantage of being in a small place is + that we couldn’t entertain if we wanted to. I can have my Aunt Varina come + to stay with me, a dear, sweet soul who loves me devotedly; and then if I + find I have to have some new ideas, perhaps you can come—-” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think your husband would favour that,” I said. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand out to me in a quick gesture. “I don’t mean to give up + our friendship! I want you to understand, I intend to go on studying and + growing. I am doing what he asked me—it’s right that I should think + of his wishes, and of the health of my child. But the child will be + growing up, and sooner or later my husband must grant me the right to + think, to have a life of my own. You must stand by me and help me, + whatever happens.” + </p> + <p> + I gave her my hand on that, and so we parted—for some time, as it + proved. I went up to Albany once more, in a last futile effort to save our + precious bill; and while I was there I got a note from her, saying that + she was leaving for the Florida Keys. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER + </h2> + <p> + For three months after this I had nothing but letters from Sylvia. She + proved to be an excellent letter-writer, full of verve and colour. I would + not say that she poured out her soul to me, but she gave me glimpses of + her states of mind, and the progress of her domestic drama. + </p> + <p> + First, she described the place to which she had come; a ravishing spot, + where any woman ought to be happy. It was a little island, fringed with a + border of cocoanut-palms, which rustled and whispered day and night in the + breeze. It was covered with tropical foliage, and there was a long, + rambling bungalow, with screened “galleries,” and a beach of hard white + sand in front. The water was blue, dazzling with sunshine, and dotted with + distant green islands; all of it, air, water, and islands, were warm. “I + don’t realize till I get here,” she said, “I am never really happy in the + North. I wrap myself against the assaults of a cruel enemy. But here I am + at home; I cast off my furs, I stretch out my arms, I bloom. I believe I + shall quite cease to think for a while—I shall forget all storms and + troubles, and bask on the sand like a lizard. + </p> + <p> + “And the water! Mary, you cannot imagine such water; why should it be blue + on top, and green when you look down into it? I have a little skiff of my + own in which I drift, and I have been happy for hours, studying the + bottom; you see every colour of the rainbow, and all as clear as in an + aquarium. I have been fishing, too, and have caught a tarpon. That is + supposed to be a great adventure, and it really is quite thrilling to feel + the monstrous creature struggling with you—though, of course, my + arms soon gave out, and I had to turn him over to my husband. This is one + of the famous fishing-grounds of the world, and I am glad of that, because + it will keep the men happy while I enjoy the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “I have discovered a fascinating diversion,” she wrote, in a second + letter. “I make them take me in the launch to one of the loneliest of the + keys; they go off to fish, and I have the whole day to myself, and am as + happy as a child on a picnic! I roam the beach, I take off my shoes and + stockings—there are no newspaper reporters snapping pictures. I dare + not go far in, for there are huge black creatures with dangerous stinging + tails; they rush away in a cloud of sand when I approach, but the thought + of stepping upon one by accident is terrifying. However, I let the little + wavelets wash round my toes, and I try to grab little fish, and I pick up + lovely shells; and then I go on, and I see a huge turtle waddling to the + water, and I dash up, and would stop him if I dared, and then I find his + eggs—such an adventure! + </p> + <p> + “I am the prey of strange appetites and cravings. I have a delicious + luncheon with me, but suddenly the one thing in the world I want to eat is + turtle-eggs. I have no matches with me, and I do not know how to build a + fire like the Indians, so I have to hide the eggs back in the sand until + to-morrow. I hope the turtle does not move them—and that I have not + lost my craving in the meantime! + </p> + <p> + “Then I go exploring inland. These islands were once the haunts of + pirates, so I may imagine all sorts of romantic things. What I find are + lemon-trees. I do not know if they are wild, or if the key was once + cultivated; the lemons are huge in size, and nearly all skin, but the + flavour is delicious. Turtle-eggs with wild lemon-juice! And then I go on + and come to a mangrove-swamp—dark and forbidding, a grisly place; + you imagine the trees are in torment, with limbs and roots tangled like + writhing serpents. I tiptoe in a little way, and then get frightened, and + run back to the beach. + </p> + <p> + “I see on the sand a mysterious little yellow creature, running like the + wind; I make a dash, and get between him and his hole; and so he stands, + crouching on guard, staring at me, and I at him. He is some sort of crab, + but he stands on two legs like a caricature of a man; he has two big + weapons upraised for battle, and staring black eyes stuck out on long + tubes. He is an uncanny thing to look at; but then suddenly the idea + comes, How do I seem to him? I realize that he is alive; a tiny mite of + hunger for life, of fear and resolution. I think, How lonely he must be! + And I want to tell him that I love him, and would not hurt him for the + world; but I have no way to make him understand me, and all I can do is to + go away and leave him. I go, thinking what a strange place the world is, + with so many living things, each shut away apart by himself, unable to + understand the others or make the others understand him. This is what is + called philosophy, is it not? Tell me some books where these things are + explained.... + </p> + <p> + “I am reading all you sent me. When I grew tired of exploring the key, I + lay down in the shade of a palm-tree, and read—guess what? ‘Number + Five John Street’! So all this loveliness vanished, and I was back in the + world’s nightmare. An extraordinary book! I decided that it would be good + for my husband, so I read him a few paragraphs; but I found that it only + irritated him. He wants me to rest, he says—he can’t see why I’ve + come away to the Florida Keys to read about the slums of London. + </p> + <p> + “My hope of gradually influencing his mind has led to a rather appalling + discovery—that he has the same intention as regards me! He too has + brought a selection of books, and reads to me a few pages every day, and + explains what they mean. He calls <i>this</i> resting! I am no match for + him, of course—I never realized more keenly the worthlessness of my + education. But I see in a general way where his arguments tend—that + life is something that has grown, and is not in the power of men to + change; but even if he could convince me of this, I should not find it a + source of joy. I have a feeling always that if you were here, you would + know something to answer. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is that I am so pained by the conflict between us that I cannot + argue at all. I find myself wondering what our marriage would have been + like if we had discovered that we had the same ideas and interests. There + are days and nights at a time when I tell myself that I ought to believe + what my husband believes, that I ought never have allowed myself to think + of anything else. But that really won’t do as a life-programme; I tried it + years ago with my dear mother and father. Did I ever tell you that my + mother is firmly convinced in her heart that I am to suffer eternally in a + real hell of fire because I do not believe certain things about the Bible? + She still has visions of it—though not so bad since she turned me + over to a husband! + </p> + <p> + “Now it is my husband who is worried about my ideas. He is reading a book + by Burke, a well-known old writer. The book deals with English history, + which I don’t know much about, but I see that it resents modern changes, + and the whole spirit of change. And Mary, why can’t I feel that way? I + really ought to love those old and stately things, I ought to be reverent + to the past; I was brought up that way. Sometimes I tremble when I realize + how very flippant and cynical I am. I seem to see the wrong side of + everything, so that I couldn’t believe in it if I wanted to!” + </p> + <p> + 2. Her letters were full of the wonders of Nature about her. There was a + snow-white egret who made his home upon her island; she watched his + fishing operations, and meant to find his nest, so as to watch his young. + The men made a trip into the Everglades, and brought back wonder-tales of + flocks of flamingoes making scarlet clouds in the sky, huge colonies of + birds’ nests crowded like a city. They had brought home a young one, which + screamed all day to be stuffed with fish. + </p> + <p> + A cousin of Sylvia’s, Harley Chilton, had come to visit her. He had taken + van Tuiver on hunting-trips during the latter’s courtship days, and now + was a good fishing-companion. He was not allowed to discover the state of + affairs between Sylvia and her husband, but he saw his cousin reading + serious books, and his contribution to the problem was to tell her that + she would get wrinkles in her face, and that even her feet would grow big, + like those of the ladies in New England. + </p> + <p> + Also, there was the young physician who kept watch over Sylvia’s health; a + dapper little man with pink and white complexion, and a brown moustache + from which he could not keep his fingers. He had a bungalow to himself, + but sometimes he went along on the launch-trips, and Sylvia thought she + observed wrinkles of amusement round his eyes whenever she differed from + her husband on the subject of Burke. She suspected this young man of not + telling all his ideas to his multi-millionaire patients, and she was + entertained by the prospect of probing him. + </p> + <p> + Then came Mrs. Varina Tuis; who since the tragic cutting of her own + domestic knot, had given her life to the service of the happier members of + the Castleman line. She was now to be companion and counsellor to Sylvia; + and on the very day of her arrival she discovered the chasm that was + yawning in her niece’s life. + </p> + <p> + “It’s wonderful,” wrote Sylvia, “the intuition of the Castleman women. We + were in the launch, passing one of the viaducts of the new railroad, and + Aunt Varina exclaimed, ‘What a wonderful piece of work!’ ‘Yes,’ put in my + husband, ‘but don’t let Sylvia hear you say it.’ ‘Why not?’ she asked; and + he replied, ‘She’ll tell you how many hours a day the poor Dagoes have to + work.’ That was all; but I saw Aunt Varina give a quick glance at me, and + I saw that she was not fooled by my efforts to make conversation. It was + rather horrid of Douglas, for he knows that I love these old people, and + do not want them to know about my trouble. But it is characteristic of him—when + he is annoyed he seldom tries to spare others. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as we were alone, Aunt Varina began, ‘Sylvia, my dear, what does + it mean? What have you done to worry your husband?’ + </p> + <p> + “You would be entertained if I could remember the conversation. I tried to + dodge the trouble by answering off-hand, ‘Douglas had eaten too many + turtle-eggs for luncheon ‘—this being a man-like thing, that any + dear old lady would understand. But she was too shrewd. I had to explain + to her that I was learning to think, and this sent her into a perfect + panic. + </p> + <p> + “‘You actually mean, my child, that you are thinking about subjects to + which your husband objects, and you refuse to stop when he asks you to? + Surely you must know that he has some good reason for objecting.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I suppose so,’ I said, ‘but he has not made that reason clear to me; and + certainly I have a right—’ + </p> + <p> + “She would not hear any more than that. ‘Right, Sylvia? Right? Are you + claiming the right to drive your husband from you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But surely I can’t regulate all my thinking by the fear of driving my + husband from me!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sylvia, you take my breath away. Where did you get such ideas?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But answer me, Aunt Varina—can I?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What thinking is as important to a woman as thinking how to please a + good, kind husband? What would become of her family if she no longer tried + to do this?’ + </p> + <p> + “So you see, we opened up a large subject. I know you consider me a + backward person, and you may be interested to learn that there are some to + whom I seem a terrifying rebel. Picture poor Aunt Varina, her old face + full of concern, repeating over and over, ‘My child, my child, I hope I + have come in time! Don’t scorn the advice of a woman who has paid bitterly + for her mistakes. You have a good husband, a man who loves you devotedly; + you are one of the most fortunate of women—now do not throw your + happiness away!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Aunt Varina,’ I said (I forget if I ever told you that her husband + gambled and drank, and finally committed suicide) ‘Aunt Varina, do you + really believe that every man is so anxious to get away from his wife that + it must take her whole stock of energy, her skill in diplomacy, to keep + him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sylvia,’ she answered, ‘you put things so strangely, you use such + horribly crude language, I don’t know how to talk to you!’ (That must be + your fault, Mary. I never heard such a charge before.) ‘I can only tell + you this—that the wife who permits herself to think about other + things than her duty to her husband and her children is taking a frightful + risk. She is playing with fire, Sylvia—she will realize too late + what it means to set aside the wisdom of her sex, the experience of other + women for ages and ages!’ + </p> + <p> + “So there you are, Mary! I am studying another unwritten book, the Maxims + of Aunt Varina! + </p> + <p> + “She has found the remedy for my troubles, the cure for my disease of + thought—I am to sew! I tell her that I have more clothes than I can + wear in a dozen seasons, and she answers, in an awesome voice, ‘There is + the little stranger!’ When I point out that the little stranger will be + expected to have a ‘layette’ costing many thousands of dollars, she + replies, ‘They will surely permit him to wear some of the things his + mother’s hands have made.’ So, behold me, seated on the gallery, learning + fancy stitches—and with Kautsky on the Social Revolution hidden away + in the bottom of my sewing-bag!” + </p> + <p> + 3. The weeks passed. The legislature at Albany adjourned, without regard + to our wishes; and so, like the patient spider whose web is destroyed, we + set to work upon a new one. So much money must be raised, so many articles + must be written, so many speeches delivered, so many people seized upon + and harried and wrought to a state of mind where they were dangerous to + the future career of legislators. Such is the process of social reform + under the private property régime; a process which the pure and simple + reformers imagine we shall tolerate for ever—God save us! + </p> + <p> + Sylvia asked me for the news, and I told it to her—how we had + failed, and what we had to do next. So pretty soon there came by + registered mail a little box, in which I found a diamond ring. “I cannot + ask him for money just now,” she explained, “but here is something that + has been mine from girlhood. It cost about four hundred dollars—this + for your guidance in selling it. Not a day passes that I do not see many + times that much wasted; so take it for the cause.” Queen Isabella and her + jewels! + </p> + <p> + In this letter she told me of a talk she had had with her husband on the + “woman-problem.” She had thought at first that it was going to prove a + helpful talk—he had been in a fairer mood than she was usually able + to induce. “He evaded some of my questions,” she explained, “but I don’t + think it was deliberate; it is simply the evasive attitude of mind which + the whole world takes. He says he does not think that women are inferior + to men, only that they are different; the mistake is for them to try to + become <i>like</i> men. It is the old proposition of ‘charm,’ you see. I + put that to him, and he admitted that he did like to be ‘charmed.’ + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘You wouldn’t, if you knew as much about the process as I do.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why not?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Because, it’s not an honest process. It’s not a straight way for one sex + to deal with the other.’ + </p> + <p> + “He asked what I meant by that; but then, remembering the cautions of my + great-aunt, I laughed. ‘If you are going to compel me to use the process, + you can hardly expect me to tell you the secret of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then there’s no use trying to talk,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, but there is!’ I exclaimed. ‘You admit that I have ‘charm’—dozens + of other men admitted it. And so it ought to count for something if I + declare that I know it’s not an honest thing—that it depends upon + trickery, and appeals to the worst qualities in a man. For instance, his + vanity. “Flatter him,” Lady Dee used to say. “He’ll swallow it.” And he + will—I never knew a man to refuse a compliment in my life. His love + of domination. “If you want anything, make him think that <i>he</i> wants + it!” His egotism. She had a bitter saying—I can hear the very tones + of her voice: “When in doubt, talk about HIM.” That is what is called + “charm”!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t seem to feel it,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “’ No, because now you are behind the scenes. But when you were in front, + you felt it, you can’t deny. And you would feel it again, any time I chose + to use it. But I want to know if there is not some honest way a woman can + interest a man. The question really comes to this—Can a man love a + woman for what she really is?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I should say,’ he said, ‘that it depends upon the woman.’ + </p> + <p> + “I admitted this was a plausible answer. ‘But you loved me, when I made + myself a mystery to you. But now that I am honest with you, you have made + it clear that you don’t like it, that you won’t have it. And that is the + problem that women have to face. It is a fact that the women of our family + have always ruled the men; but they’ve done it by indirection—nobody + ever thought seriously of “women’s rights” in Castleman County. But you + see, women <i>have</i> rights; and somehow or other they will fool the + men, or else the men must give up the idea that they are the superior sex, + and have the right, or the ability, to rule women.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then I saw how little he had followed me. ‘There has to be a head to the + family,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “I answered, ‘There have been cases in history of a king and queen ruling + together, and getting along very well. Why not the same thing in a + family?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s all right, so far as the things of the family are concerned. But + such affairs as business and politics are in the sphere of men; and women + cannot meddle in them without losing their best qualities as women.’ + </p> + <p> + “And so there we were. I won’t repeat his arguments, for doubtless you + have read enough anti-suffrage literature. The thing I noticed was that if + I was very tactful and patient, I could apparently carry him along with + me; but when the matter came up again, I would discover that he was back + where he had been before. A woman must accept the guidance of a man; she + must take the man’s word for the things that he understands. ‘But suppose + the man is <i>wrong?</i>’ I said; and there we stopped—there we + shall stop always, I begin to fear. I agree with him that woman should + obey man—so long as man is right!” + </p> + <p> + 4. Her letters did not all deal with this problem. In spite of the sewing, + she found time to read a number of books, and we argued about these. Then, + too, she had been probing her young doctor, and had made interesting + discoveries about him. For one thing, he was full of awe and admiration + for her; and her awakening mind found material for speculation in this. + </p> + <p> + “Here is this young man; he thinks he is a scientist, he rather prides + himself upon being cold-blooded; yet a cunning woman could twist him round + her finger. He had an unhappy love-affair when he was young, so he + confided to me; and now, in his need and loneliness, a beautiful woman is + transformed into something supernatural in his imagination—she is + like a shimmering soap-bubble, that he blows with his own breath. I know + that I could never get him to see the real truth about me; I might tell + him that I have let myself be tied up in a golden net—but he would + only marvel at my spirituality. Oh, the women I have seen trading upon the + credulity of men! And when I think how I did this myself! If men were + wise, they would give us the vote, and a share in the world’s work—anything + that would bring us out into the light of day, and break the spell of + mystery that hangs round us! + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” she wrote in another letter, “there will be trouble if you + come down here. I was telling Dr. Perrin about you, and your ideas about + fasting, and mental healing, and the rest of your fads. He got very much + excited. It seems that he takes his diploma seriously, and he’s not + willing to be taught by amateur experiments. He wanted me to take some + pills, and I refused, and I think now he blames you for it. He has found a + bond of sympathy with my husband, who proves his respect for authority by + taking whatever he is told to take. Dr. Perrin got his medical training + here in the South, and I imagine he’s ten or twenty years behind the rest + of the medical world. Douglas picked him out because he’d met him + socially. It makes no difference to me—because I don’t mean to have + any doctoring done to me!” + </p> + <p> + Then, on top of these things, would come a cry from her soul. “Mary, what + will you do if some day you get a letter from me confessing that I am not + happy? I dare not say a word to my own people. I am supposed to be at the + apex of human triumph, and I have to play that role to keep from hurting + them. I know that if my dear old father got an inkling of the truth, it + would kill him. My one real solid consolation is that I have helped him, + that I have lifted a money-burden from his life; I have done that, I tell + myself, over and over; but then I wonder, have I done anything but put the + reckoning off? I have given all his other children a new excuse for + extravagance, an impulse towards worldliness which they did not need. + </p> + <p> + “There is my sister Celeste, for example. I don’t think I have told you + about her. She made her <i>début</i> last fall, and was coming up to New + York to stay with me this winter. She had it all arranged in her mind to + make a rich marriage; I was to give her the <i>entrée</i>—and now I + have been selfish, and thought of my own desires, and gone away. Can I say + to her, Be warned by me, I have made a great match, and it has not brought + me happiness? She would not understand, she would say I was foolish. She + would say, ‘If I had your luck, <i>I</i> would be happy.’ And the worst of + it is, it would be true. + </p> + <p> + “You see the position I am in with the rest of the children. I cannot say, + ‘You are spending too much of papa’s money, it is wrong for you to sign + cheques and trust to his carelessness.’ I have had my share of the money, + I have lined my own nest. All I can do is to buy dresses and hats for + Celeste; and know that she will use these to fill her girl-friends with + envy, and make scores of other families live beyond their means.” + </p> + <p> + 5. Sylvia’s pregnancy was moving to its appointed end. She wrote me + beautifully about it, much more frankly and simply than she could have + brought herself to talk. She recalled to me my own raptures, and also, my + own heartbreak. “Mary! Mary! I felt the child to-day! Such a sensation, I + could not have credited it if anyone had told me. I almost fainted. There + is something in me that wants to turn back, that is afraid to go on with + such experiences. I do not wish to be seized in spite of myself, and made + to feel things beyond my control. I wander off down the beach, and hide + myself, and cry and cry. I think I could almost pray again.” + </p> + <p> + And then again, “I am in ecstasy, because I am to bear a child, a child of + my own! Oh, wonderful, wonderful! But suddenly my ecstasy is shot through + with terror, because the father of this child is a man I do not love. + There is no use trying to deceive myself—nor you! I must have one + human soul with whom I can talk about it as it really is. I do not love + him, I never did love him, I never shall love him! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how could they have all been so mistaken? Here is Aunt Varina—one + of those who helped to persuade me into this marriage. She told me that + love would come; it seemed to be her idea—my mother had it too—that + you had only to submit yourself to a man, to follow and obey him, and love + would take possession of your heart. I tried credulously, and it did not + happen as they promised. And now, I am to bear him a child; and that will + bind us together for ever! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the despair of it—I do not love the father of my child! I say, + The child will be partly his, perhaps more his than mine. It will be like + him—it will have this quality and that, the very qualities, perhaps, + that are a source of distress to me in the father. So I shall have these + things before me day and night, all the rest of my life; I shall have to + see them growing and hardening; it will be a perpetual crucifixion of my + mother-love. I seek to comfort myself by saying, The child can be trained + differently, so that he will not have these qualities. But then I think, + No, you cannot train him as you wish. Your husband will have rights to the + child, rights superior to your own. Then I foresee the most dreadful + strife between us. + </p> + <p> + “A shrewd girl-friend once told me that I ought to be better or worse; I + ought not to see people’s faults as I do, or else I ought to love people + less. And I can see that I ought to have been too good to make this + marriage, or else not too good to make the best of it. I know that I might + be happy as Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, if I could think of the worldly + advantages, and the fact that my child will inherit them. But instead, I + see them as a trap, in which not only ourselves but the child is caught, + and from which I cannot save us. Oh, what a mistake a woman makes when she + marries a man with the idea that she is going to change him! He will not + change, he will not have the need of change suggested to him. He wants <i>peace</i> + in his home—which means that he wants to be what he is. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I can study the situation quite coolly, and as if it didn’t + concern me at all. He has required me to subject my mind to his. But he + will not be content with a general capitulation; he must have a surrender + from each individual soldier, from every rebel hidden in the hills. He + tracks them out (my poor, straggling, feeble ideas) and either they take + the oath of allegiance, or they are buried where they lie. The process is + like the spoiling of a child, I find; the more you give him, the more he + wants. And if any little thing is refused, then you see him set out upon a + regular campaign to break you down and get it.” + </p> + <p> + A month or more later she wrote: “Poor Douglas is getting restless. He has + caught every kind of fish there is to catch, and hunted every kind of + animal and bird, in and out of season. Harley has gone home, and so have + our other guests; it would be embarrassing to me to have company now. So + Douglas has no one but the doctor and myself and my poor aunt. He has + spoken several times of our going away; but I do not want to go, and I + think I ought to consider my own health at this critical time. It is hot + here, but I simply thrive in it—I never felt in better health. So I + asked him to go up to New York, or visit somewhere for a while, and let me + stay here until my baby is born. Does that seem so very unreasonable? It + does not to me, but poor Aunt Varina is in agony about it—I am + letting my husband drift away from me! + </p> + <p> + “I speculate about my lot as a woman; I see the bitterness and the sorrow + of my sex through the ages. I have become physically misshapen, so that I + am no longer attractive to him. I am no longer active and free, I can no + longer go about with him; on the contrary, I am a burden, and he is a man + who never tolerated a burden before. What this means is that I have lost + the magic hold of sex. + </p> + <p> + “As a woman it was my business to exert all my energies to maintain it. + And I know how I could restore it now; there is young Dr. Perrin! <i>He</i> + does not find me a burden, <i>he</i> would tolerate any deficiencies! And + I can see my husband on the alert in an instant, if I become too much + absorbed in discussing your health-theories with my handsome young + guardian! + </p> + <p> + “This is one of the recognized methods of keeping your husband; I learned + from Lady Dee all there is to know about it. But I would find the method + impossible now, even if my happiness were dependent upon retaining my + husband’s love. I should think of the rights of my friend, the little + doctor. That is one point to note for the ‘new’ woman, is it not? You may + mention it in your next suffrage-speech! + </p> + <p> + “There are other methods, of course. I have a mind, and I might turn its + powers to entertaining him, instead of trying to solve the problems of the + universe. But to do this, I should have to believe that it was the one + thing in the world for me to do; and I have permitted a doubt of that to + gain entrance to my brain! My poor aunt’s exhortations inspire me to + efforts to regain the faith of my mothers, but I simply cannot—I + cannot! She sits by me with the terror of all the women of all the ages in + her eyes. I am losing a man! + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know if you have ever set out to hold a man—deliberately, I + mean. Probably you haven’t. That bitter maxim of Lady Dee’s is the literal + truth of it—‘When in doubt, talk about HIM!’ If you will tactfully + and shrewdly keep a man talking about himself, his tastes, his ideas, his + work and the importance of it, there is never the least possibility of + your boring him. You must not just tamely agree with him, of course; if + you hint a difference now and then, and make him convince you, he will + find that stimulating; or if you can manage not to be quite convinced, but + sweetly open to conviction, he will surely call again. ‘Keep him busy + every minute,’ Lady Dee used to say. ‘Run away with him now and then—like + a spirited horse!’ And she would add, ‘But don’t let him drop the reins!’ + </p> + <p> + “You can have no idea how many women there are in the world deliberately + playing such parts. Some of them admit it; others just do the thing that + is easiest, and would die of horror if they were told what it is. It is + the whole of the life of a successful society woman, young or old. + Pleasing a man! Waiting upon his moods, piquing him, flattering him, + feeding his vanity—‘charming’ him! That is what Aunt Varina wants me + to do now; if I am not too crude in my description of the process, she has + no hesitation in admitting the truth. It is what she tried to do, it is + what almost every woman has done who has held a family together and made a + home. I was reading <i>Jane Eyre</i> the other day. <i>There</i> is your + woman’s ideal of an imperious and impetuous lover! Listen to him, when his + mood is on him!— + </p> + <p> + “I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night; and that is + why I sent for you; the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient + company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. + To-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and + recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out—to learn + more of you—therefore speak!” + </p> + <p> + 6. It was now May, and Sylvia’s time was little more than a month off. She + had been urging me to come and visit her, but I had refused, knowing that + my presence must necessarily be disturbing to both her husband and her + aunt. But now she wrote that her husband was going back to New York. “He + was staying out of a sense of duty to me,” she said. “But his discontent + was so apparent that I had to point out to him that he was doing harm to + me as well as to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if you will want to come here now. The last of the winter + visitors have left. It is really hot, so hot that you cannot get cool by + going into the water. Yet I am revelling in it; I wear almost nothing, and + that white; and even the suspicious Dr. Perrin cannot but admit that I am + thriving; his references to pills are purely formal. + </p> + <p> + “Lately I have not permitted myself to think much about the situation + between my husband and myself. I cannot blame him, and I cannot blame + myself, and I am trying to keep my peace of mind till my baby is born. I + have found myself following half-instinctively the procedure you told me + about; I talk to my own subconscious mind, and to the baby—I command + them to be well. I whisper to them things that are not so very far from + praying; but I don’t think my poor dear mamma would recognize it in its + new scientific dress! + </p> + <p> + “But sometimes I can’t help thinking of the child and its future, and then + all of a sudden my heart is ready to break with pity for the child’s + father! I have the consciousness that I do not love him, and that he has + always known it—and that makes me remorseful. But I told him the + truth before we married—he promised to be patient with me till I had + learned to love him! Now I want to burst into tears and cry aloud, ‘Oh, + why did you do it? Why did I let myself be persuaded into this marriage?’ + </p> + <p> + “I tried to have a talk with him last night, after he had decided to go + away. I was full of pity, and a desire to help. I said I wanted him to + know that no matter how much we might disagree about some things, I meant + to learn to live happily with him. We must find some sort of compromise, + for the sake of the child, if not for ourselves; we must not let the child + suffer. He answered coldly that there would be no need for the child to + suffer, the child would have the best the world could afford. I suggested + that there might arise some question as to just what the best was; but to + that he said nothing. He went on to rebuke my discontent; had he not given + me everything a woman could want? he asked. He was too polite to mention + money; but he said that I had leisure and entire freedom from care. I was + persisting in assuming cares, while he was doing all in his power to + prevent it. + </p> + <p> + “And that was as far as we got. I gave up the discussion, for we should + only have gone the old round over again. + </p> + <p> + “Douglas has taken up a saying that my cousin brought with him: ‘What you + don’t know won’t hurt you!’ I think that before he left, Harley had begun + to suspect that all was not well between my husband and myself, and he + felt it necessary to give me a little friendly counsel. He was tactful, + and politely vague, but I understood him—my worldly-wise young + cousin. I think that saying of his sums up the philosophy that he would + teach to all women—‘What you don’t know won’t hurt you!’” + </p> + <p> + 7. A week or so later Sylvia wrote me that her husband was in New York. + And I waited another week, for good measure, and then one morning dropped + in for a call upon Claire Lepage. + </p> + <p> + Why did I do it? you ask. I had no definite purpose—only a general + opposition to the philosophy of Cousin Harley. + </p> + <p> + I was ushered into Claire’s boudoir, which was still littered with last + evening’s apparel. She sat in a dressing-gown with resplendent red roses + on it, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, and apologized for not being + ready for callers. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve just had a talking to from Larry,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + “Larry?” said I, inquiringly; for Claire had always informed me + elaborately that van Tuiver had been her one departure from propriety, and + always would be. + </p> + <p> + Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences were + too much trouble. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know how to + manage men,” she said. “I never can get along with one for any time.” + </p> + <p> + I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I had only + tried it once. “Tell me,” I said, “who’s Larry?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s his picture.” She reached into a drawer of her dresser. + </p> + <p> + I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know better. + “He doesn’t seem especially forbidding,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just the trouble—you can never tell about men!” + </p> + <p> + I noted a date on the picture. “He seems to be an old friend. You never + told me about him.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t like being told about. He has a troublesome wife.” + </p> + <p> + I winced inwardly, but all I said was, “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a stock-broker; and he got ‘squeezed,’ so he says, and it’s made him + cross—and careful with his money, too. That’s trying, in a + stock-broker, you must admit.” She laughed. “And still he’s just as + particular—wants to have his own way in everything, wants to say + whom I shall know and where I shall go. I said, ‘I have all the + inconveniences of matrimony, and none of the advantages.’” + </p> + <p> + I made some remark upon the subject of the emancipation of woman; and + Claire, who was now leaning back in her chair, combing out her long black + tresses, smiled at me out of half-closed eyelids. “Guess whom he’s + objecting to!” she said. And when I pronounced it impossible, she looked + portentous. “There are bigger fish in the sea than Larry Edgewater!” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ve hooked one?” I asked, innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t mean to give up all my friends.” + </p> + <p> + I went on casually to talk about my plans for the summer; and a few + minutes later, after a lull—“By the way,” remarked Claire, “Douglas + van Tuiver is in town.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Where?” + </p> + <p> + “I got Jack Taylor to invite me again. You see, when Douglas fell in love + with his peerless southern beauty, Jack predicted he’d get over it even + more quickly. Now he’s interested in proving he was right.” + </p> + <p> + I waited a moment, and then asked, carelessly, “Is he having any success?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘Douglas, why don’t you come to see me?’ He was in a playful + mood. ‘What do you want? A new automobile?’ I answered, ‘I haven’t any + automobile, new or old, and you know it. What I want is you. I always + loved you—surely I proved that to you.’ ‘What you proved to me was + that you were a sort of wild-cat. I’m afraid of you. And anyway, I’m tired + of women. I’ll never trust another one.’” + </p> + <p> + “About the same conclusion as you’ve come to regarding men,” I remarked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘come and see me, and we’ll talk over old times. You + may trust me, I swear I’ll not tell a living soul.’ ‘You’ve been consoling + yourself with someone else,’ he said. But I knew he was only guessing. He + was seeking for something that would worry me, and he said, ‘You’re + drinking too much. People that drink can’t be trusted.’ ‘You know,’ I + replied, ‘I didn’t drink too much when I was with you. I’m not drinking as + much as you are, right now.’ He answered, ‘I’ve been off on a desert + island for God knows how many months, and I’m celebrating my escape.’ + ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘let me help celebrate!’” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say to that?” + </p> + <p> + Claire resumed the combing of her silken hair, and smiled a slow smile at + me. “‘You may trust me, Douglas,’ I said. ‘I swear I’ll not tell a living + soul!’” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I remarked, appreciatively, “that means he said he’d come!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> haven’t told you!” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + 8. I knew that I had only to wait for Claire to tell me the rest of the + story. But her mind went off on another tack. “Sylvia’s going to have a + baby,” she remarked, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “That ought to please her husband,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “You can see him beginning to swell with paternal pride!—so Jack + said. He sent for a bottle of some famous kind of champagne that he has, + to celebrate the new ‘millionaire baby.’ (They used to call Douglas that, + once upon a time.) Before they got through, they had made it triplets. + Jack says Douglas is the one man in New York who can afford them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend Jack seems to be what they call a wag,” I commented. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t everybody that Douglas will let carry on with him like that. He + takes himself seriously, as a rule. And he expects to take the new baby + seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “It generally binds a man tighter to his wife, don’t you think?” + </p> + <p> + I watched her closely, and saw her smile at my naiveté. “No,” she said, “I + don’t. It leaves them restless. It’s a bore all round.” + </p> + <p> + I did not dispute her authority; she ought to know her husbands, I + thought. + </p> + <p> + She was facing the mirror, putting up her hair; and in the midst of the + operation she laughed. “All that evening, while we were having a jolly + time at Jack Taylor’s, Larry was here waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Then no wonder you had a row!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “He hadn’t told me he was coming. And was I to sit here all night alone? + It’s always the same—I never knew a man who really in his heart was + willing for you to have any friends, or any sort of good time without + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” I replied, “he’s afraid you mightn’t be true to him.” I meant + this for a jest, of the sort that Claire and her friends would appreciate. + Little did I foresee where it was to lead us! + </p> + <p> + I remember how once on the farm my husband had a lot of dynamite, blasting + out stumps; and my emotions when I discovered the children innocently + playing with a stick of it. Something like these children I seem now to + myself, looking back on this visit to Claire, and our talk. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” she observed, without smiling, “Larry’s got a bee in his hat. + I’ve seen men who were jealous, and kept watch over women, but never one + that was obsessed like him.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s it about?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s been reading a book about diseases, and he tells me tales about what + may happen to me, and what may happen to him. When you’ve listened a + while, you can see microbes crawling all over the walls of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” I began. + </p> + <p> + “I was sick of his lecturing, so I said, ‘Larry, you’ll have to do like me—have + everything there is, and get over it, and then you won’t need to worry.’” + </p> + <p> + I sat still, staring at her; I think I must have stopped breathing. At the + end of an eternity, I said, “You’ve not really had any of these diseases, + Claire?” + </p> + <p> + “Who hasn’t?” she countered. + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause. “You know,” I observed, “some of them are + dangerous——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” she answered, lightly. “There’s one that makes your nose + fall in and your hair fall out—but you haven’t seen anything like + that happening to me!” + </p> + <p> + “But there’s another,” I hinted—“one that’s much more common.” And + when she did not take the hint, I continued, “Also it’s more serious than + people generally realize.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. “What of it? Men bring you these things, and + it’s part of the game. So what’s the use of bothering?” + </p> + <p> + 9. There was a long silence; I had to have time to decide what course to + take. There was so much that I wanted to get from her, and so much that I + wanted to hide from her! + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to bore you, Claire,” I began, finally, “but really this is + a matter of importance to you. You see, I’ve been reading up on the + subject as well as Larry. The doctors have been making new discoveries. + They used to think this was just a local infection, like a cold, but now + they find it’s a blood disease, and has the gravest consequences. For one + thing, it causes most of the surgical operations that have to be performed + on women.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so,” she said, still indifferent. “I’ve had two operations. But + it’s ancient history now.” + </p> + <p> + “You mayn’t have reached the end yet,” I persisted. “People suppose they + are cured of gonorrhea, when really it’s only suppressed, and is liable to + break out again at any time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew. That’s some of the information Larry had been making love to + me with.” + </p> + <p> + “It may get into the joints and cause rheumatism; it may cause neuralgia; + it’s been known to affect the heart. Also it causes two-thirds of all the + blindness in infants——” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly Claire laughed. “That’s Sylvia Castleman’s lookout it seems + to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! OH!” I whispered, losing my self-control. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” she asked, and I noticed that her voice had become + sharp. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean what you’ve just implied?” + </p> + <p> + “That Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver may have to pay something for what she has + done to me? Well, what of it?” And suddenly Claire flew into a passion, as + she always did when our talk came to her rival. “Why shouldn’t she take + chances the same as the rest of us? Why should I have it and she get off?” + </p> + <p> + I fought for my composure. After a pause, I said: “It’s not a thing we + want anybody to have, Claire. We don’t want anybody to take such a chance. + The girl ought to have been told.” + </p> + <p> + “Told? Do you imagine she would have given up her great catch?” + </p> + <p> + “She might have, how can you be sure? Anyhow, she should have had the + chance.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. I was so shaken that it was hard for me to find + words. “As a matter of fact,” said Claire, grimly, “I thought of warning + her myself. There’d have been some excitement at least! You remember—when + they came out of church. You helped to stop me!” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been too late then,” I heard myself saying. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she exclaimed, with fresh excitement, “it’s Miss Sylvia’s turn + now! We’ll see if she’s such a grand lady that she can’t get my diseases!” + </p> + <p> + I could no longer contain myself. “Claire,” I cried, “you are talking like + a devil!” + </p> + <p> + She picked up a powder-puff, and began to use it diligently. “I know,” she + said—and I saw her burning eyes in the glass—“you can’t fool + me. You’ve tried to be kind, but you despise me in your heart. You think + I’m as bad as any woman of the street. Very well then, I speak for my + class, and I tell you, this is where we prove our humanity. They throw us + out, but you see we get back in!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear woman,” I said, “you don’t understand. You’d not feel as you do, + If you knew that the person to pay the penalty might be an innocent little + child.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Their</i> child! Yes, it’s too bad if there has to be anything the + matter with the little prince! But I might as well tell you the truth—I’ve + had that in mind all along. I didn’t know just what would happen, or how—I + don’t believe anybody does, the doctors who pretend to are just faking + you. But I knew Douglas was rotten, and maybe his children would be + rotten, and they’d all of them suffer. That was one of the things that + kept me from interfering and smashing him up.” + </p> + <p> + I was speechless now, and Claire, watching me, laughed. “You look as if + you’d had no idea of it. Don’t you know that I told you at the time?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me at the time!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, you didn’t understand. I’m apt to talk French when I’m + excited. We have a saying: ‘The wedding present which the mistress leaves + in the basket of the bride.’ That was pretty near telling, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + And the other, after watching me for a moment more, went on: “You think + I’m revengeful, don’t you? Well, I used to reproach myself with this, and + I tried to fight it down; but the time comes when you want people to pay + for what they take from you. Let me tell you something that I never told + to anyone, that I never expected to tell. You see me drinking and going to + the devil; you hear me talking the care-free talk of my world, but in the + beginning I was really in love with Douglas van Tuiver, and I wanted his + child. I wanted it so that it was an ache to me. And yet, what chance did + I have? I’d have been the joke of his set for ever if I’d breathed it; I’d + have been laughed out of the town. I even tried at one time to trap him—to + get his child in spite of him, but I found that the surgeons had cut me + up, and I could never have a child. So I have to make the best of it—I + have to agree with my friends that it’s a good thing, it saves me trouble! + But <i>she</i> comes along, and she has what I wanted, and all the world + thinks it wonderful and sublime. She’s a beautiful young mother! What’s + she ever done in her life that she has everything, and I go without? You + may spend your time shedding tears over her and what may happen to her but + for my part, I say this—let her take her chances! Let her take her + chances with the other women in the world—the women she’s too good + and too pure to know anything about!” + </p> + <p> + 10. I came out of Claire’s house, sick with horror. Not since the time + when I had read my poor nephew’s letter had I been so shaken. Why had I + not thought long ago of questioning Claire about these matters. How could + I have left Sylvia all this time exposed to peril? + </p> + <p> + The greatest danger was to her child at the time of birth. I figured up, + according to the last letter I had received; there was about ten days yet, + and so I felt some relief. I thought first of sending a telegram, but + reflected that it would be difficult, not merely to tell her what to do in + a telegram, but to explain to her afterwards why I had chosen this + extraordinary method. I recollected that in her last letter she had + mentioned the name of the surgeon who was coming from New York to attend + her during her confinement. Obviously the thing for me to do was to see + this surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame?” he said, when I was seated in his inner office. + </p> + <p> + He was a tall, elderly man, immaculately groomed, and formal and precise + in his manner. “Dr. Overton,” I began, “my friend, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver + writes me that you are going to Florida shortly.” + </p> + <p> + “That is correct,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to see you about a delicate matter. I presume I need hardly + say that I am relying upon the seal of professional secrecy.” + </p> + <p> + I saw his gaze become suddenly fixed. “Certainly, madame,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am taking this course because Mrs. van Tuiver is a very dear friend of + mine, and I am concerned about her welfare. It has recently come to my + knowledge that she has become exposed to infection by a venereal disease.” + </p> + <p> + He would hardly have started more if I had struck him. “HEY?” he cried, + forgetting his manners. + </p> + <p> + “It would not help you any,” I said, “if I were to go into details about + this unfortunate matter. Suffice it to say that my information is positive + and precise—that it could hardly be more so.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. He sat with eyes rivetted upon me. “What is this + disease?” he demanded, at last. + </p> + <p> + I named it, and then again there was a pause. “How long has this—this + possibility of infection existed?” + </p> + <p> + “Ever since her marriage, nearly eighteen months ago.” + </p> + <p> + That told him a good part of the story. I felt his look boring me through. + Was I a mad woman? Or some new kind of blackmailer? Or, was I, possibly, a + Claire? I was grateful for my forty-cent bonnet and my forty-seven years. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he said at length, “this information startles me.” + </p> + <p> + “When you have thought it over,” I responded, “you will realise that no + possible motive could bring me here but concern for the welfare of my + friend.” + </p> + <p> + He took a few moments to consider. “That may be true, madame, but let me + add that when you say you KNOW this——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. “I MEAN that I know it,” I said, and stopped in turn. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mrs. van Tuiver herself any idea of this situation?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever. On the contrary, she was assured before her marriage that + no such possibility existed.” + </p> + <p> + Again I felt him looking through me, but I left him to make what he could + of my information. “Doctor,” I continued, “I presume there is no need to + point out to a man in your position the seriousness of this matter, both + to the mother and to the child.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly there is not.” + </p> + <p> + “I assume that you are familiar with the precautions that have to be taken + with regard to the eyes of the child?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madame.” This with just a touch of HAUTEUR, and then, + suddenly: “Are you by any chance a nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied, “but many years ago I was forced by tragedy in my own + family to realise the seriousness of the venereal peril. So when I learned + this fact about my friend, my first thought was that you should be + informed of it. I trust that you will appreciate my position.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madame, certainly,” he made haste to say. “You are quite + right, and you may rest assured that everything will be done that our best + knowledge directs. I only regret that the information did not come to me + sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “It only came to me about an hour ago,” I said, as I rose to leave. “The + blame, therefore, must rest upon another person.” + </p> + <p> + I needed to say no more. He bowed me politely out, and I walked down the + street, and realised that I was restless and wretched. I wandered at + random for a while, trying to think what else I could do, for my own peace + of mind, if not for Sylvia’s welfare. I found myself inventing one worry + after another. Dr. Overton had not said just when he was going, and + suppose she were to need someone at once? Or suppose something were to + happen to him—if he were to be killed upon the long train-journey? I + was like a mother who has had a terrible dream about her child—she + must rush and fling her arms about the child. I realised that I wanted to + see Sylvia! + </p> + <p> + She had begged me to come; and I was worn out and had been urged by the + office to take a rest. Suddenly I bolted into a store, and telephoned the + railroad station about trains to Southern Florida. I hailed a taxi-cab, + rode to my home post-haste, and flung a few of my belongings into a bag + and the waiting cab sped with me to the ferry. In little more than two + hours after Claire had told me the dreadful tidings, I was speeding on my + way to Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + 11. From a train-window I had once beheld a cross-section of America from + West to East; now I beheld another from North to South. In the afternoon + were the farms and country-homes of New Jersey; and then in the morning + endless wastes of wilderness, and straggling fields of young corn and + tobacco; turpentine forests, with half-stripped negroes working, and a + procession of “depots,” with lanky men chewing tobacco, and negroes + basking in the blazing sun. Then another night, and there was the pageant + of Florida: palmettos, and other trees of which one had seen pictures in + the geography books; stretches of vine-tangled swamps, where one looked + for alligators; orange-groves in blossom, and gardens full of flowers + beyond imagining. Every hour, of course, it got hotter; I was not, like + Sylvia, used to it, and whenever the train stopped I sat by the open + window, mopping the perspiration from my face. + </p> + <p> + We were due at Miami in the afternoon; but there was a freight-train off + the track ahead of us, and so for three hours I sat chafing with + impatience, worrying the conductor with futile questions. I had to make + connections at Miami with a train which ran to the last point on the + mainland, where the construction-work over the keys was going forward. And + if I missed that last train, I would have to wait in Miami till morning. I + had better wait there, anyhow, the conductor argued; but I insisted that + my friends, to whom I had telegraphed two days before, would meet me with + a launch and take me to their place that night. + </p> + <p> + We got in half an hour late for the other train; but this was the South, I + discovered, and they had waited for us. I shifted my bag and myself across + the platform, and we moved on. But then another problem arose; we were + running into a storm. It came with great suddenness; one minute all was + still, with a golden sunset, and the next it was so dark that I could + barely see the palm-trees, bent over, swaying madly—like people with + arms stretched out, crying in distress. I could hear the roaring of the + wind above that of the train, and I asked the conductor in consternation + if this could be a hurricane. It was not the season for hurricanes, he + replied; but it was “some storm, all right,” and I would not find any boat + to take me to the keys until it was over. + </p> + <p> + It was absurd of me to be nervous, I kept telling myself; but there was + something in me that cried out to be there, to be there! I got out of the + train, facing what I refrain from calling a hurricane out of deference to + local authority. It was all I could do to keep from being blown across the + station-platform, and I was drenched with the spray and bewildered by the + roaring of the waves that beat against the pier beyond. Inside the + station, I questioned the agent. The launch of the van Tuivers had not + been in that day; if it had been on the way, it must have sought shelter + somewhere. My telegram to Mrs. van Tuiver had been received two days + before, and delivered by a boatman whom they employed for that purpose. + Presumably, therefore, I would be met. I asked how long this gale was apt + to last; the answer was from one to three days. + </p> + <p> + Then I asked about shelter for the night. This was a “jumping-off” place, + said the agent, with barracks and shanties for a construction-gang; there + were saloons, and what was called a hotel, but it wouldn’t do for a lady. + I pleaded that I was not fastidious—being anxious to nullify the + effect which the name van Tuiver had produced. But the agent would have it + that the place was unfit for even a Western farmer’s wife; and as I was + not anxious to take the chance of being blown overboard in the darkness, I + spent the night on one of the benches in the station. I lay, listening to + the incredible clamour of wind and waves, feeling the building quiver, and + wondering if each gust might not blow it away. + </p> + <p> + I was out at dawn, the force of the wind having abated somewhat by that + time. I saw before me a waste of angry foam-strewn water, with no sign of + any craft upon it. Late in the morning came the big steamer which ran to + Key West, in connection with the railroad; it made a difficult landing, + and I interviewed the captain, with the idea of bribing him to take me to + my destination. But he had his schedule, which neither storms nor the name + of van Tuiver could alter. Besides, he pointed out, he could not land me + at their place, as his vessel drew too much water to get anywhere near; + and if he landed me elsewhere, I should be no better off, “If your friends + are expecting you, they’ll come here,” he said, “and their launch can + travel when nothing else can.” + </p> + <p> + To pass the time I went to inspect the viaduct of the railway-to-be. The + first stretch was completed, a long series of concrete arches, running + out, apparently, into the open sea. It was one of the engineering wonders + of the world, but I fear I did not appreciate it. Towards mid-afternoon I + made out a speck of a boat over the water, and my friend, the + station-agent, remarked, “There’s your launch.” + </p> + <p> + I expressed my amazement that they should have ventured out in such + weather. I had had in mind the kind of tiny open craft that one hears + making day and night hideous at summer-resorts; but when the “Merman” drew + near, I realized afresh what it was to be the guest of a + multi-millionaire. She was about fifty feet long, a vision of polished + brass and shining, new-varnished cedar. She rammed her shoulder into the + waves and flung them contemptuously to one side; her cabin was tight, dry + as the saloon of a liner. + </p> + <p> + Three men emerged on deck to assist in the difficult process of making a + landing. One of them sprang to the dock, and confronting me, inquired if I + was Mrs. Abbott. He explained that they had set out to meet me the + previous afternoon, but had had to take refuge behind one of the keys. + </p> + <p> + “How is Mrs. van Tuiver?” I asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “She is well.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose—the baby——” I hinted. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am, not yet,” said the man; and after that I felt interested in + what he had to say about the storm and its effects. We could return at + once, it seemed, if I did not mind being pitched about. + </p> + <p> + “How long does it take?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Three hours, in weather like this. It’s about fifty miles.” + </p> + <p> + “But then it will be dark,” I objected. + </p> + <p> + “That won’t matter, ma’am—we have plenty of light of our own. We + shan’t have trouble, unless the wind rises, and there’s a chain of keys + all the way, where we can get shelter if it does. The worst you have to + fear is spending a night on board.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected that I could not well be more uncomfortable than I had been + the previous night, so I voted for a start. There was mail and some + supplies to be put on board; then I made a spring for the deck, as it + surged up towards me on a rising wave, and in a moment more the cabin-door + had shut behind me, and I was safe and snug, in the midst of leather and + mahogany and electric-lighted magnificence. Through the heavy double + windows I saw the dock swing round behind us, and saw the torrents of + green spray sweep over us and past. I grasped at the seat to keep myself + from being thrown forward, and then grasped behind, to keep from going in + that direction. I had a series of sensations as of an elevator stopping + suddenly—and then I draw the curtains of the “Merman’s” cabin, and + invite the reader to pass by. This is Sylvia’s story, and not mine, and it + is of no interest what happened to me during that trip. I will only remind + the reader that I had lived my life in the far West, and there were some + things I could not have foreseen. + </p> + <p> + 12. “We are there, ma’am,” I heard one of the boatmen say, and I realised + vaguely that the pitching had ceased. He helped me to sit up, and I saw + the search-light of the craft sweeping the shore of an island. “It passes + off ‘most as quick as it comes, ma’am,” added my supporter, and for this I + murmured feeble thanks. + </p> + <p> + We came to a little bay, where the power was shut off, and we glided + towards the shore. There was a boat-house, a sort of miniature dry-dock, + with a gate which closed behind us. I had visions of Sylvia waiting to + meet me, but apparently our arrival had not been noted, and for this I was + grateful. There were seats in the boat-house, and I sank into one, and + asked the man to wait a few minutes while I recovered myself. When I got + up and went to the house, what I found made me quickly forget that I had + such a thing as a body. + </p> + <p> + There was a bright moon, I remember, and I could see the long, low + bungalow, with windows gleaming through the palm-trees. A woman’s figure + emerged from the house and came down the white shell-path to meet me. My + heart leaped. My beloved! + </p> + <p> + But then I saw it was the English maid, whom I had come to know in New + York; I saw, too, that her face was alight with excitement. “Oh, my lady!” + she cried. “The baby’s come!” + </p> + <p> + It was like a blow in the face. “<i>What?</i>” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Came early this morning. A girl.” + </p> + <p> + “But—I thought it wasn’t till next week!” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but it’s here. In that terrible storm, when we thought the house + was going to be washed away! Oh, my lady, it’s the loveliest baby!” + </p> + <p> + I had presence of mind enough to try to hide my dismay. The semi-darkness + was a fortunate thing for me. “How is the mother?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid. She’s asleep now.” + </p> + <p> + “And the child?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Such a dear you never saw!” + </p> + <p> + “And it’s all right?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just the living image of its mother! You shall see!” + </p> + <p> + We moved towards the house, slowly, while I got my thoughts together. “Dr. + Perrin is here?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He’s gone to his place to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “And the nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s with the child. Come this way.” + </p> + <p> + We went softly up the steps of the veranda. All the rooms opened upon it, + and we entered one of them, and by the dim-shaded light I saw a white-clad + woman bending over a crib. “Miss Lyman, this is Mrs. Abbott,” said the + maid. + </p> + <p> + The nurse straightened up. “Oh! so you got here! And just at the right + time!” + </p> + <p> + “God grant it may be so!” I thought to myself. “So this is the child!” I + said, and bent over the crib. The nurse turned up the light for me. + </p> + <p> + It is the form in which the miracle of life becomes most apparent to us, + and dull indeed must be he who can encounter it without being stirred to + the depths. To see, not merely new life come into the world, but life + which has been made by ourselves, or by those we love—life that is a + mirror and copy of something dear to us! To see this tiny mite of warm and + living flesh, and to see that it was Sylvia! To trace each beloved + lineament, so much alike, and yet so different—half a portrait and + half a caricature, half sublime and half ludicrous! The comical little + imitation of her nose, with each dear little curve, with even a remainder + of the tiny groove underneath the tip, and the tiny corresponding dimple + underneath the chin! The soft silken fuzz which was some day to be + Sylvia’s golden glory! The delicate, sensitive lips, which were some day + to quiver with feeling! I gazed at them and saw them moving, I saw the + breast moving—and a wave of emotion swept over me, and the tears + half-blinded me as I knelt. + </p> + <p> + But I could not forget the reason for my coming. It meant little that the + child was alive and seemingly well; I was not dealing with a disease + which, like syphilis, starves and deforms in the very womb. The little one + was asleep, but I moved the light so as to examine its eyelids. Then I + turned to the nurse and asked: “Miss Lyman, doesn’t it seem to you the + eyelids are a trifle inflamed?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I hadn’t noticed it,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Were the eyes washed?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I washed the baby, of course—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the eyes especially. The doctor didn’t drop anything into them?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he considered it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s an important precaution,” I replied; “there are always possibilities + of infection.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said the other. “But you know, we did not expect this. Dr. + Overton was to be here in three or four days.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin is asleep?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He was up all last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I will have to ask you to waken him,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Is it as serious as that?” she inquired, anxiously, having sensed some of + the emotion I was trying to conceal. + </p> + <p> + “It might be very serious,” I said. “I really ought to have a talk with + the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + 13. The nurse went out, and I drew up a chair and sat by the crib, + watching the infant go back to sleep. I was glad to be alone, to have a + chance to get myself together. But suddenly I heard a rustle of skirts in + the doorway behind me, and turned and saw a white-clad figure; an elderly + gentlewoman, slender and fragile, grey-haired and rather pale, wearing a + soft dressing-gown. Aunt Varina! + </p> + <p> + I rose. “This must be Mrs. Abbott,” she said. Oh, these soft, caressing + Southern voices, that cling to each syllable as a lover to a hand at + parting. + </p> + <p> + She was a very prim and stately little lady, and I think she did not + intend to shake hands; but I felt pretty certain that under her coating of + formality, she was eager for a chance to rhapsodize. “Oh, what a lovely + child!” I cried; and instantly she melted. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen our babe!” she exclaimed; and I could not help smiling. A + few months ago, “the little stranger,” and now “our babe”! + </p> + <p> + She bent over the cradle, with her dear old sentimental, romantic soul in + her eyes. For a minute or two she quite forgot me; then, looking up, she + murmured, “It is as wonderful to me as if it were my own!” + </p> + <p> + “All of us who love Sylvia feel that,” I responded. + </p> + <p> + She rose, and suddenly remembering hospitality, asked me as to my present + needs. Then she said, “I must go and see to sending some telegrams.” + </p> + <p> + “Telegrams?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Think what this news will mean to dear Douglas! And to Major + Castleman!” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t informed them?” + </p> + <p> + “We couldn’t send any smaller boat on account of the storm. We must + telegraph Dr. Overton also, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “To tell him not to come?” I ventured. “But don’t you think, Mrs. Tuis, + that he may wish to come anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he wish that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure, but—I think he might.” How I longed for a little of + Sylvia’s skill in social lying! “Every newly-born infant ought to be + examined by a specialist, you know; there may be a particular <i>régime,</i> + a diet for the mother—one cannot say.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin didn’t consider it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to have a talk with Dr. Perrin at once,” I said. + </p> + <p> + I saw a troubled look in her eyes. “You don’t mean you think there’s + anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” I lied. “But I’m sure you ought to wait before you have the + launch go. Please do.” + </p> + <p> + “If you insist,” she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just a + touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and one—well, + possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the ones that + came were: “Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting.” + </p> + <p> + I was too polite to offer the suggestion that “dear Douglas” might be + finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching + on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor. + </p> + <p> + 14. “How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin. He was in his + dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, but + he replied, “It’s pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two new + faces!” + </p> + <p> + That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of + sleep. I tried to meet his mood. “Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells me + that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won’t mind + regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I’ve had + to help bring others into the world.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he smiled. “We’ll consider you qualified. What is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to ask you about the child’s eyes. It is a wise precaution to + drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible + infection.” + </p> + <p> + I waited for my answer. “There have been no signs of any sort of infection + in this case,” he said, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You have + not taken the precaution?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “You have some of the drug, of course?” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause. “No, madam, I fear that I have not.” + </p> + <p> + I winced, involuntarily. I could not hide my distress. “Dr. Perrin,” I + exclaimed, “you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to + provide something so essential!” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing left of the little man’s affability now. “In the first + place,” he said, “I must remind you that I did not come to attend a + confinement case. I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver’s condition up <i>to</i> + the time of confinement.” + </p> + <p> + “But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn’t have any nitrate of silver!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, stiffly, “there is no use for this drug except in one + contingency.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” I cried, “but it is an important precaution. It is the practice + to use it in all maternity hospitals.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what the + practice is.” + </p> + <p> + So there we were, at a deadlock. There was silence for a space. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind sending for the drug?” I asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” he said, with <i>hauteur,</i> “it will do no harm to have it + on hand.” + </p> + <p> + I was aware of an elderly lady watching us, with consternation written + upon every sentimental feature. “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “if Mrs. Tuis will + pardon me, I think I ought to speak with you alone.” The nurse hastily + withdrew; and I saw the elderly lady draw herself up with terrible dignity—and + then suddenly quail, and turn and follow the nurse. + </p> + <p> + I told the little man what I knew. After he had had time to get over his + consternation, he said that fortunately there did not seem to be any sign + of trouble. + </p> + <p> + “There does seem so to me,” I replied. “It may be only my imagination, but + I think the eyelids are inflamed.” + </p> + <p> + I held the baby for him, while he made an examination. He admitted that + there seemed to be ground for uneasiness. His professional dignity was now + gone, and he was only too glad to be human. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “there is only one thing we can do—to get some + nitrate of silver at the earliest possible moment. Fortunately, the launch + is here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have it start at once,” he said. “It will have to go to Key West.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long will that take?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon the sea. In good weather it takes us eight hours to go + and return.” I could not repress a shudder. The child might be blind in + eight hours! + </p> + <p> + But there was no time to be wasted in foreboding. “About Dr. Overton,” I + said. “Don’t you think he had better come?” But I ventured to add the hint + that Mr. van Tuiver would hardly wish expense to be considered in such an + emergency; and in the end, I persuaded the doctor not merely to telegraph + for the great surgeon, but to ask a hospital in Atlanta to send the + nearest eye-specialist by the first train. + </p> + <p> + We called back Mrs. Tuis, and I apologized abjectly for my presumption, + and Dr. Perrin announced that he thought he ought to see Dr. Overton, and + another doctor as well. I saw fear leap into Aunt Varina’s eyes. “Oh, what + is it?” she cried. “What is the matter with our babe?” + </p> + <p> + I helped the doctor to answer polite nothings to all her questions. “Oh, + the poor, dear lady!” I thought to myself. The poor, dear lady! What a + tearing away of veils and sentimental bandages was written in her book of + fate for that night! + </p> + <p> + 15. I find myself lingering over these preliminaries, dreading the plunge + into the rest of my story. We spent our time hovering over the child’s + crib, and in two or three hours the little eyelids had become so inflamed + that there could no longer be any doubt what was happening. We applied + alternate hot and cold cloths; we washed the eyes in a solution of boric + acid, and later, in our desperation, with bluestone. But we were dealing + with the virulent gonococcus, and we neither expected nor obtained much + result from these measures. In a couple of hours more the eyes were + beginning to exude pus, and the poor infant was wailing in torment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what can it be? Tell me what is the matter?” cried Mrs. Tuis. She + sought to catch the child in her arms, and when I quickly prevented her, + she turned upon me in anger. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The child must be quiet,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But I wish to comfort it!” And when I still insisted, she burst out + wildly: “What <i>right</i> have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis,” I said, gently, “it is possible the infant may have a very + serious infection. If so, you would be apt to catch it.” + </p> + <p> + She answered with a hysterical cry: “My precious innocent! Do you think + that I would be afraid of anything it could have?” + </p> + <p> + “You may not be afraid, but we are. We should have to take care of you, + and one case is more than enough.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she clutched me by the arm. “Tell me what this awful thing is! I + demand to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis,” said the doctor, interfering, “we are not yet sure what the + trouble is, we only wish to take precautions. It is really imperative that + you should not handle this child or even go near it. There is nothing you + can possibly do.” + </p> + <p> + She was willing to take orders from him; he spoke the same dialect as + herself, and with the same quaint stateliness. A charming little Southern + gentleman—I could realise how Douglas van Tuiver had “picked him out + for his social qualities.” In the old-fashioned Southern medical college + where he had got his training, I suppose they had taught him the + old-fashioned idea of gonorrhea. Now he was acquiring our extravagant + modern notions in the grim school of experience! + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to put the nurse on her guard as to the risks we were + running. We should have had concave glasses to protect our eyes, and we + spent part of our time washing our hands in bichloride solution. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Abbott, what is it?” whispered the woman. + </p> + <p> + “It has a long name,” I replied—“<i>opthalmia neonatorum.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “And what has caused it?” + </p> + <p> + “The original cause,” I responded, “is a man.” I was not sure if that was + according to the ethics of the situation, but the words came. + </p> + <p> + Before long the infected eye-sockets were two red and yellow masses of + inflammation, and the infant was screaming like one of the damned. We had + to bind up its eyes; I was tempted to ask the doctor to give it an opiate + for fear lest it should scream itself into convulsions. Then as poor Mrs. + Tuis was pacing the floor, wringing her hands and sobbing hysterically, + Dr. Perrin took me to one side and said: “I think she will have to be + told.” + </p> + <p> + The poor, poor lady! + </p> + <p> + “She might as well understand now as later,” he continued. “She will have + to help keep the situation from the mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, faintly; and then, “Who shall tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” suggested the doctor, “she might prefer to be told by a woman.” + </p> + <p> + So I shut my lips together and took the distracted lady gently by the arm + and led her to the door. We stole like two criminals down the veranda, and + along the path to the beach, and near the boathouse we stopped, and I + began. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis, you may remember a circumstance which your niece mentioned to + me—that just before her marriage she urged you to have certain + inquiries made as to Mr. van Tuiver’s health, his fitness for marriage?” + </p> + <p> + Never shall I forget her face at that moment. “Sylvia told you that!” + </p> + <p> + “The inquiries were made,” I went on, “but not carefully enough, it seems. + Now you behold the consequence of this negligence.” + </p> + <p> + I saw her blank stare. I added: “The one to pay for it is the child.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you mean—” she stammered, her voice hardly a whisper. “Oh—it + is impossible!” Then, with a flare of indignation: “Do you realise what + you are implying—that Mr. van Tuiver—” + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of implying,” I said, quietly. “It is the facts we + have to face now, and you will have to help us to face them.” + </p> + <p> + She cowered and swayed before me, hiding her face in her hands. I heard + her sobbing and murmuring incoherent cries to her god. I took the poor + lady’s hand, and bore with her as long as I could, until, being at the end + of my patience with prudery and purity and chivalry, and all the rest of + the highfalutin romanticism of the South, I said: “Mrs Tuis, it is + necessary that you should get yourself together. You have a serious duty + before you—that you owe both to Sylvia and her child.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she whispered. The word “duty” had motive power for her. + </p> + <p> + “At all hazards, Sylvia must be kept in ignorance of the calamity for the + present. If she were to learn of it it would quite possibly throw her into + a fever, and cost her life or the child’s. You must not make any sound + that she can hear, and you must not go near her until you have completely + mastered your emotions.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she murmured. She was really a brave little body, but I, not + knowing her, and thinking only of the peril, was cruel in hammering things + into her consciousness. Finally, I left her, seated upon the steps of the + deserted boat-house, rocking back and forth and sobbing softly to herself—one + of the most pitiful figures it has ever been my fortune to encounter in my + pilgrimage through a world of sentimentality and incompetence. + </p> + <p> + 16. I went back to the house, and because we feared the sounds of the + infant’s crying might carry, we hung blankets before the doors and windows + of the room, and sat in the hot enclosure, shuddering, silent, grey with + fear. After an hour or two, Mrs. Tuis rejoined us, stealing in and seating + herself at one side of the room, staring from one to another of us with + wide eyes of fright. + </p> + <p> + By the time the first signs of dawn appeared, the infant had cried itself + into a state of exhaustion. The faint light that got into the room + revealed the three of us, listening to the pitiful whimpering. I was faint + with weakness, but I had to make an effort and face the worst ordeal of + all. There came a tapping at the door—the maid, to say that Sylvia + was awake and had heard of my arrival and wished to see me. I might have + put off our meeting for a while, on the plea of exhaustion, but I + preferred to have it over with, and braced myself and went slowly to her + room. + </p> + <p> + In the doorway I paused for an instant to gaze at her. She was exquisite, + lying there with the flush of sleep still upon her, and the ecstasy of her + great achievement in her face. I fled to her, and we caught each other in + our arms. “Oh, Mary, Mary! I’m so glad you’ve come!” And then: “Oh, Mary, + isn’t it the loveliest baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly glorious!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m so happy—so happy as I never dreamed! I’ve no words to tell + you about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t need any words—I’ve been through it,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but she’s so <i>beautiful!</i> Tell me, honestly, isn’t that really + so?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I said, “she is like you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” she went on, half whispering, “I think it solves all my problems—all + that I wrote you about. I don’t believe I shall ever be unhappy again. I + can’t believe that such a thing has really happened—that I’ve been + given such a treasure. And she’s my own! I can watch her little body grow + and help to make it strong and beautiful! I can help mould her little mind—see + it opening up, one chamber of wonder after another! I can teach her all + the things I have had to grope so to get!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, trying to speak with conviction. I added, hastily: “I’m + glad you don’t find motherhood disappointing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s a miracle!” she exclaimed. “A woman who could be dissatisfied + with anything afterwards would be an ingrate!” She paused, then added: + “Mary, now she’s here in flesh, I feel she’ll be a bond between Douglas + and me. He must see her rights, her claim upon life, as he couldn’t see + mine.” + </p> + <p> + I assented gravely. So that was the thing she was thinking most about—a + bond between her husband and herself! A moment later the nurse appeared in + the doorway, and Sylvia set up a cry: “My baby! Where’s my baby? I want to + see my baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia, dear,” I said, “there’s something about the baby that has to be + explained.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly she was alert. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “Nothing, dear, that amounts to anything. But the little one’s + eyes are inflamed—that is to say, the lids. It’s something that + happens to newly-born infants.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only the doctor’s had to put some salve on them, and they don’t + look very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind that, if it’s all right.” + </p> + <p> + “But we’ve had to put a bandage over them, and it looks forbidding. Also + the child is apt to cry.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see her at once!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Just now she’s asleep, so don’t make us disturb her.” + </p> + <p> + “But how long will this last?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very long. Meantime you must be sensible and not mind. It’s something + I made the doctor do, and you mustn’t blame me, or I’ll be sorry I came to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear thing,” she said, and put her hand in mine. And then, suddenly: + “Why did you take it into your head to come, all of a sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me,” I smiled. “I have no excuse. I just got homesick and had + to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perfectly wonderful that you should be here now,” she declared. “But + you look badly. Are you tired?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” I said. (Such a difficult person to deceive!) “To tell the + truth, I’m pretty nearly done up. You see, I was caught in the storm, and + I was desperately sea-sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you poor dear! Why didn’t you go to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t want to sleep. I was too much excited by everything. I came to + see one Sylvia and I found two!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it absurd,” she cried, “how she looks like me? Oh, I want to see + her again. How long will it be before I can have her?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I said, “you mustn’t worry—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just playing. I’m so happy, I want to squeeze her + in my arms all the time. Just think, Mary, they won’t let me nurse her, + yet—a whole day now! Can that be right?” + </p> + <p> + “Nature will take care of that,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but how can you be sure what Nature means? Maybe it’s what the child + is crying about, and it’s the crying that makes its eyes red.” + </p> + <p> + I felt a sudden spasm grip my heart. “No, dear, no,” I said, hastily. “You + must let Dr. Perrin attend to these things, for I’ve just had to interfere + with his arrangements, and he’ll be getting cross pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she cried with laughter in her eyes, “you’ve had a scene with him? I + knew you would! He’s so quaint and old-fashioned!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “and he talks exactly like your aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You’ve met her too! I’m missing all the fun!” + </p> + <p> + I had a sudden inspiration—one that I was proud of. “My dear girl,” + I said, “maybe <i>you</i> call it fun!” And I looked really agitated. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what’s the matter?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “What could you expect?” I asked. “I fear, my dear Sylvia, I’ve shocked + your aunt beyond all hope.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve talked about things I’d no business to—I’ve bossed the learned + doctor—and I’m sure Aunt Varina has guessed I’m not a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me about it!” cried Sylvia, full of delight. + </p> + <p> + But I could not keep up the game any longer. “Not now, dear,” I said. + “It’s a long story, and I really am exhausted. I must go and get some + rest.” + </p> + <p> + I rose, and she caught my hand, whispering: “I shall be happy, Mary! I + shall be really happy now!” And then I turned and fled, and when I was out + of sight of the doorway, I literally ran. At the other end of the veranda + I sank down upon the steps, and wept softly to myself. + </p> + <p> + 17. The launch arrived, bringing the nitrate of silver. A solution was + dropped into the baby’s eyes, and then we could do nothing but wait. I + might have lain down and really tried to rest; but the maid came again, + with the announcement that Sylvia was asking for her aunt. Excuses would + have tended to excite her suspicions; so poor Mrs. Tuis had to take her + turn at facing the ordeal, and I had to drill and coach her for it. I had + a vision of the poor lady going in to her niece, and suddenly collapsing. + Then there would begin a cross-examination, and Sylvia would worm out the + truth, and we might have a case of puerperal fever on our hands. + </p> + <p> + This I explained afresh to Mrs. Tuis, having taken her into her own room + and closed the door for that purpose. She clutched me with her shaking + hands and whispered, “Oh, Mrs. Abbott, you will <i>never</i> let Sylvia + find out what caused this trouble?” + </p> + <p> + I drew on my reserve supply of patience, and answered, “What I shall let + her find out in the end, I don’t know. We shall be guided by + circumstances, and this is no time to discuss the matter. The point is now + to make sure that you can go in and stay with her, and not let her get an + idea there’s anything wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you know how Sylvia reads people!” she cried, in sudden dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve fixed it for you,” I said. “I’ve provided something you can be + agitated about.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s <i>me.</i>” Then, seeing her look of bewilderment, “You must tell + her that I’ve affronted you, Mrs. Tuis; I’ve outraged your sense of + propriety. You’re indignant with me and you don’t see how you can remain + in the house with me—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Abbott!” she exclaimed, in horror. + </p> + <p> + “You know it’s truth to some extent,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The good lady drew herself up. “Mrs. Abbott, don’t tell me that I have + been so rude—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mrs. Tuis,” I laughed, “don’t stop to apologize just now. You have + not been lacking in courtesy, but I know how I must seem to you. I am a + Socialist. I have a raw, Western accent, and my hands are big—I’ve + lived on a farm all my life, and done my own work, and even plowed + sometimes. I have no idea of the charms and graces of life that are + everything to you. What is more than that, I am forward, and thrust my + opinions upon other people—” + </p> + <p> + She simply could not hear me. She was a-tremble with a new excitement. + Worse even than <i>opthalmia neonatorum</i> was plain speaking to a guest! + “Mrs. Abbott, you humiliate me!” + </p> + <p> + Then I spoke harshly, seeing that I would actually have to shock her. “I + assure you, Mrs. Tuis, that if you don’t feel that way about me, it’s + simply because you don’t know the truth. It is not possible that you would + consider me a proper person to visit Sylvia. I don’t believe in your + religion; I don’t believe in anything that you would call religion, and I + argue about it at the least provocation. I deliver violent harangues on + street-corners, and have been arrested during a strike. I believe in + woman’s suffrage, I even argue in approval of window-smashing. I believe + that women ought to earn their own living, and be independent and free + from any man’s control. I am a divorced woman—I left my husband + because I wasn’t happy with him, what’s more, I believe that any woman has + a right to do the same—I’m liable to teach such ideas to Sylvia, and + to urge her to follow them.” + </p> + <p> + The poor lady’s eyes were wide and large. “So you see,” I exclaimed, “you + really couldn’t approve of me! Tell her all this; she knows it already, + but she will be horrified, because I have let you and the doctor find it + out!” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Mrs. Tuis started to ascend the pedestal of her dignity. “Mrs. + Abbott, this may be your idea of a jest——” + </p> + <p> + “Now come,” I cried, “let me help you fix your hair, and put on just a wee + bit of powder—not enough to be noticed, you understand——” + </p> + <p> + I took her to the wash-stand, and poured out some cold water for her, and + saw her bathe her eyes and face, and dry them, and braid her thin grey + hair. While with a powder puff I was trying deftly to conceal the ravages + of the night’s crying, the dear lady turned to me, and whispered in a + trembling voice, “Mrs. Abbott, you really don’t mean that dreadful thing + you said just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Which dreadful thing, Mrs. Tuis?” + </p> + <p> + “That you would tell Sylvia it could possibly be right for her to leave + her husband?” + </p> + <p> + 18. In the course of the day we received word that Dr. Gibson, the + specialist for whom we had telegraphed, was on his way. The boat which + brought his message took back a letter from Dr. Perrin to Douglas van + Tuiver, acquainting him with the calamity which had befallen. We had + talked it over and agreed that there was nothing to be gained by + telegraphing the information. We did not wish any hint of the child’s + illness to leak into the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + I did not envy the great man the hour when he read that letter; although I + knew that the doctor had not failed to assure him that the victim of his + misdeeds should be kept in ignorance. Already the little man had begun to + drop hints to me on this subject. Unfortunate accidents happened, which + were not always to be blamed upon the husband, nor was it a thing to + contemplate lightly, the breaking up of a family. I gave a non-committal + answer, and changed the subject by asking the doctor not to mention my + presence in the household. If by any chance van Tuiver were to carry his + sorrows to Claire, I did not want my name brought up. + </p> + <p> + We managed to prevent Sylvia’s seeing the child that day and night, and + the next morning came the specialist. He held out no hope of saving any + remnant of the sight, but the child might be so fortunate as to escape + disfigurement—it did not appear that the eyeballs were destroyed, as + happens generally in these cases. This bit of consolation I still have: + that little Elaine, who sits by me as I write, has left in her pupils a + faint trace of the soft red-brown—just enough to remind us of what + we have lost, and keep fresh in our minds the memory of these sorrows. If + I wish to see what her eyes might have been, I look above my head to the + portrait of Sylvia’s noble ancestress, a copy made by a “tramp artist” in + Castleman County, and left with me by Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + There was the question of the care of the mother—the efforts to stay + the ravages of the germ in the tissues broken and weakened by the strain + of child-birth. We had to invent excuses for the presence of the new + doctor—and yet others for the presence of Dr. Overton, who came a + day later. And then the problem of the nourishing of the child. It would + be a calamity to have to put it upon the bottle, but on the other hand, + there were many precautions necessary to keep the infection from + spreading. + </p> + <p> + I remember vividly the first time that the infant was fed: all of us + gathered round, with matter-of-course professional air, as if these + elaborate hygienic ceremonies were the universal custom when newly-born + infants first taste their mothers’ milk. Standing in the background, I saw + Sylvia start with dismay, as she noted how pale and thin the poor little + one had become. It was hunger that caused the whimpering, so the nurse + declared, busying herself in the meantime to keep the tiny hands from the + mother’s face. The latter sank back and closed her eyes—nothing, it + seemed, could prevail over the ecstasy of that first marvellous sensation, + but afterwards she asked that I might stay with her, and as soon as the + others were gone, she unmasked the batteries of her suspicion upon me. + “Mary! What in the world has happened to my baby?” + </p> + <p> + So began a new stage in the campaign of lying. “It’s nothing, nothing. + Just some infection. It happens frequently.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is the cause of it?” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t tell. It may be a dozen things. There are so many possible + sources of infection about a birth. It’s not a very sanitary thing, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary! Look me in the face!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not deceiving me?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—it’s not really something serious? All these doctors—this + mystery—this vagueness!” + </p> + <p> + “It was your husband, my dear Sylvia, who sent the doctors—it was + his stupid man’s way of being attentive.” (This at Aunt Varina’s + suggestion—the very subtle lady!). + </p> + <p> + “Mary, I’m worried. My baby looks so badly, and I feel something is + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia,” I chided, “if you worry about it you will simply be + harming the child. Your milk may go wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s just it! That’s why you would not tell me the truth!” + </p> + <p> + We persuade ourselves that there are certain circumstances under which + lying is necessary, but always when we come to the lies we find them an + insult to the soul. Each day I perceived that I was getting in deeper—and + each day I watched Aunt Varina and the doctor busied to push me deeper + yet. + </p> + <p> + There had come a telegram from Douglas van Tuiver to Dr. Perrin, revealing + the matter which stood first in that gentleman’s mind. “I expect no + failure in your supply of the necessary tact.” By this vagueness we + perceived that he too was trusting no secrets to telegraph operators. Yet + for us it was explicit and illuminative. It recalled the tone of quiet + authority I had noted in his dealings with his chauffeur, and it sent me + off by myself for a while to shake my fist at all husbands. + </p> + <p> + 19. Mrs. Tuis, of course, had no need of any warning from the head of the + house. The voice of her ancestors guided her in all such emergencies. The + dear lady had got to know me quite well, at the more or less continuous + dramatic rehearsals we conducted; and now and then her trembling hands + would seek to fasten me in the chains of decency. “Mrs. Abbott, think what + a scandal there would be if Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver were to break with her + husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Mrs. Tuis-but on the other hand, think what might happen if + she were kept in ignorance in this matter. She might bear another child.” + </p> + <p> + I got a new realization of the chasms that lay between us. “Who are we,” + she whispered, “to interfere in these sacred matters? It is of souls, Mrs. + Abbot, and not bodies, that the Kingdom of Heaven is made.” + </p> + <p> + I took a minute or so to get my breath, and then I said, “What generally + happens in these cases is that God afflicts the woman with permanent + barrenness.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady bowed her head, and I saw the tears falling into her lap. “My + poor Sylvia!” she moaned, only half aloud. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence; I too almost wept. And finally, Aunt Varina looked up + at me, her faded eyes full of pleading. “It is hard for me to understand + such ideas as yours. You must tell me-can you really believe that it would + help Sylvia to know this-this dreadful secret?” + </p> + <p> + “It would help her in many ways,” I said. “She will be more careful of her + health-she will follow the doctor’s orders—-” + </p> + <p> + How quickly came the reply! “I will stay with her, and see that she does + that! I will be with her day and night.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you going to keep the secret from those who attend her? Her maid—the + child’s nurses—everyone who might by any chance use the same towel, + or a wash-basin, or a drinking-glass?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you exaggerate the danger! If that were true, more people would + meet with these accidents!” + </p> + <p> + “The doctors,” I said, “estimate that about ten per cent. of cases of this + disease are innocently acquired.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, these modern doctors!” she cried. “I never heard of such ideas!” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling. “My dear Mrs. Tuis, what do you imagine you know + about the prevalence of gonorrhea? Consider just one fact—that I + heard a college professor state publicly that in his opinion eighty-five + per cent. of the men students at his university were infected with some + venereal disease. And that is the pick of our young manhood—the sons + of our aristocracy!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that can’t be!” she exclaimed. “People would know of it! + </p> + <p> + “Who are ‘people’? The boys in your family know of it—if you could + get them to tell you. My two sons studied at a State university, and they + would bring me home what they heard—the gossip, the slang, the + horrible obscenity. Fourteen fellows in one dormitory using the same + bathroom—and on the wall you saw a row of fourteen syringes! And + they told that on themselves, it was the joke of the campus. They call the + disease a ‘dose’; and a man’s not supposed to be worthy the respect of his + fellows until he’s had his ‘dose’—the sensible thing is to get + several, till he can’t get any more. They think it’s ‘no worse than a bad + cold’; that’s the idea they get from the ‘clap-doctors,’ and the women of + the street who educate our sons in sex matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, spare me, spare me!” cried Mrs. Tuis. “I beg you not to force these + horrible details upon me!” + </p> + <p> + “That is what is going on among our boys,” I said. “The Castleman boys, + the Chilton boys! It’s going on in every fraternity house, every ‘prep + school’ dormitory in America. And the parents refuse to know, just as you + do!” + </p> + <p> + “But what could I possibly do, Mrs. Abbott?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, Mrs. Tuis. What <i>I</i> am going to do is to teach the + young girls.” + </p> + <p> + She whispered, aghast, “You would rob the young girls of their innocence. + Why, with their souls full of these ideas their faces would soon be as + hard—oh, you horrify me!” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter’s face is not hard,” I said. “And I taught her. Stop and + think, Mrs. Tuis—ten thousand blind children every year! A hundred + thousand women under the surgeon’s knife! Millions of women going to + pieces with slowly creeping diseases of which they never hear the names! I + say, let us cry this from the housetops, until every woman knows—and + until every man knows that she knows, and that unless he can prove that he + is clean he will lose her! That is the remedy, Mrs. Tuis!” + </p> + <p> + Poor dear lady! I got up and went away, leaving her there, with clenched + hands and trembling lips. I suppose I seemed to her like the mad women who + were just then rising up to horrify the respectability of England—a + phenomenon of Nature too portentous to be comprehended, or even to be + contemplated, by a gentlewoman of the South! + </p> + <p> + 20. There came in due course a couple of letters from Douglas van Tuiver. + The one to Aunt Varina, which was shown to me, was vague and cautious—as + if the writer were uncertain how much this worthy lady knew. He merely + mentioned that Sylvia was to be spared every particle of “painful + knowledge.” He would wait in great anxiety, but he would not come, because + any change in his plans might set her to questioning. + </p> + <p> + The letter to Dr. Perrin was not shown to me; but I judged that it must + have contained more strenuous injunctions. Or had Aunt Varina by any + chance got up the courage to warn the young doctor against me? His hints, + at any rate, became more pointed. He desired me to realize how awkward it + would be for him, if Sylvia were to learn the truth; it would be + impossible to convince Mr. van Tuiver that this knowledge had not come + from the physician in charge. + </p> + <p> + “But, Dr. Perrin,” I objected, “it was I who brought the information to + you! And Mr. van Tuiver knows that I am a radical woman; he would not + expect me to be ignorant of such matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Abbott,” was the response, “it is a grave matter to destroy the + possibility of happiness of a young married couple.” + </p> + <p> + However I might dispute his theories, in practice I was doing what he + asked. But each day I was finding the task more difficult; each day it + became more apparent that Sylvia was ceasing to believe me. I realized at + last, with a sickening kind of fright, that she knew I was hiding + something from her. Because she knew me, and knew that I would not do such + a thing lightly, she was terrified. She would lie there, gazing at me, + with a dumb fear in her eyes—and I would go on asseverating blindly, + like an unsuccessful actor before a jeering audience. + </p> + <p> + A dozen times she made an effort to break through the barricade of + falsehood; and a dozen times I drove her back, all but crying to her, “No, + No! Don’t ask me!” Until at last, late one night, she caught my hand and + clung to it in a grip I could not break. “Mary! Mary! You must tell me the + <i>truth!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Dear girl—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she cried. “I know you are deceiving me! I know why—because + I’ll make myself ill. But it won’t do any longer; it’s preying on me, Mary—I’ve + taken to imagining things. So you must tell me the truth!” + </p> + <p> + I sat, avoiding her eyes, beaten; and in the pause I could feel her hands + shaking. “Mary, what is it? Is my baby going to die?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, indeed no!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Then what?” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I began, as quietly as I could, “the truth is not as bad as you + imagine—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what it is!” + </p> + <p> + “But it is bad, Sylvia. And you must be brave. You must be, for your + baby’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “The baby,” I said, “may be blind.” + </p> + <p> + “Blind!” There we sat, gazing into each other’s eyes, like two statues of + women. But the grasp of her hand tightened, until even my big fist was + hurt. “Blind!” she whispered again. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I rushed on, “it isn’t so bad as it might be! Think—if you + had lost her altogether!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Blind!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “You will have her always; and you can do things for her—take care + of her. They do wonders for the blind nowadays—and you have the + means; to do everything. Really, you know, blind children are not unhappy—some + of them are happier than other children, I think. They haven’t so much to + miss. Think—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, wait,” she whispered; and again there was silence, and I clung to + her cold hands. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I said, at last, “you have a newly-born infant to nurse, and its + very life depends upon your health now. You cannot let yourself grieve.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she responded. “No. But, Mary, what caused this?” + </p> + <p> + So there was the end of my spell of truth-telling. “I don’t know, dear. + Nobody knows. There might be a thousand things—” + </p> + <p> + “Was it born blind?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then was it the doctor’s fault?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was nobody’s fault. Think of the thousands and tens of thousands + of babies that become blind! It’s a dreadful accident that happens.” So I + went on—possessed with a dread that had been with me for days, that + had kept me awake for hours in the night: Had I, in any of my talks with + Sylvia about venereal disease, mentioned blindness in infants as one of + the consequences? I could not rememher; but now was the time I would find + out! + </p> + <p> + She lay there, immovable, like a woman who had died in grief; until at + last I flung my arms about her and whispered, “Sylvia! Sylvia! Please + cry!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t cry!” she whispered, and her voice sounded hard. + </p> + <p> + So, after a space, I said, “Then, dear, I think I will have to make you + laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “Laugh, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes-I will tell you about the quarrel between Aunt Varina and myself. You + know what times we’ve been having-how I shocked the poor lady?” + </p> + <p> + She was looking at me, but her eyes were not seeing me. “Yes, Mary,” she + said, in the same dead tone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was a game we made for you. It was very funny!” + </p> + <p> + “Funny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Because I really did shock her-though we started out just to give + you something else to think about!” + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly I saw the healing tears begin to come. She could not + weep for her own grief-but she could weep because of what she knew we two + had had to suffer for her! + </p> + <p> + 21. I went out and told the others what I had done; and Mrs. Tuis rushed + in to her niece and they wept in each other’s arms, and Mrs. Tuis + explained all the mysteries of life by her formula, “the will of the + Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Later on came Dr. Perrin, and it was touching to see how Sylvia treated + him. She had, it appeared, conceived the idea that the calamity must be + due to some blunder on his part, and then she had reflected that he was + young, and that chance had thrown upon him a responsibility for which he + had not bargained. He must be reproaching himself bitterly, so she had to + persuade him that it was really not so bad as we were making it-that a + blind child was a great joy to a mother’s soul-in some ways even a greater + joy than a perfectly sound child, because it appealed so to her protective + instinct! I had called Sylvia a shameless payer of compliments, and now I + went away by myself and wept. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was true in a way. When the infant was brought in to be nursed + again, how she clung to it, a very picture of the sheltering and + protecting instinct of motherhood! She knew the worst now—her mind + was free, and she could partake of what happiness was allowed her. The + child was hers to love and care for, and she would find ways to atone to + it for the harshness of fate. + </p> + <p> + So little by little we got our existence upon a working basis. We lived a + peaceful, routine life, to the music of cocoanut-palms rustling in the + warm breezes which blew incessantly off the Mexican Gulf. Aunt Varina had, + for the time, her undisputed way with the family; her niece reclined upon + the veranda in true Southern lady fashion, and was read aloud to from + books of indisputable respectability. I remember Aunt Varina selected the + “Idylls of the King,” and they two were in a mood to shed tears over these + solemn, sorrowful tales. So it came that the little one got her name, + after a pale and unhappy heroine. + </p> + <p> + I remember the long discussions of this point, the family-lore which Aunt + Varina brought forth. It did not seem to her quite the thing to call a + blind child after a member of one’s family. Something strange, romantic, + wistful—yes, Elaine was the name! Mrs. Tuis, it transpired, had + already baptised the infant, in the midst of the agonies and alarms of its + illness. She had called it “Sylvia,” and now she was tremulously uncertain + whether this counted—whether perhaps the higher powers might object + to having to alter their records. But in the end a clergyman came out from + Key West and heard Aunt Varina’s confession, and gravely concluded that + the error might be corrected by a formal ceremony. How strange it all + seemed to me—being carried back two or three hundred years in the + world’s history! But I gave no sign of what was going on in my rebellious + mind. + </p> + <p> + 22. Dr. Overton on his return to New York, sent a special nurse to take + charge of Sylvia’s case. There was also an infant’s nurse, and both had + been taken into the doctor’s confidence. So now there was an elaborate + conspiracy—no less than five women and two men, all occupied in + keeping a secret from Sylvia. It was a thing so contrary to my convictions + that I was never free from the burden of it for a moment. Was it my duty + to tell her? + </p> + <p> + Dr. Perrin no longer referred to the matter—I realised that both he + and Dr. Gibson considered the matter settled. Was it conceivable that + anyone of sound mind could set out, deliberately and in cold blood, to + betray such a secret? But I had maintained all my life the right of woman + to know the truth, and was I to back down now, at the first test of my + convictions? + </p> + <p> + When the news reached Douglas van Tuiver that his wife had been informed + of the infant’s blindness, there came a telegram saying that he was + coming. There was much excitement, of course, and Aunt Varina came to me, + in an attempt to secure a definite pledge of silence. When I refused it, + Dr. Perrin came again, and we fought the matter over for the better part + of a day and night. + </p> + <p> + He was a polite little gentleman, and he did not tell me that my views + were those of a fanatic, but he said that no woman could see things in + their true proportion, because of her necessary ignorance concerning the + nature of men, and the temptations to which they were exposed. I replied + that I believed I understood these matters thoroughly, and I went on, + quite simply and honestly, to make clear to him that this was so. In the + end my pathetically chivalrous little Southern gentleman admitted + everything I asked. Yes, it was true that these evils were ghastly, and + that they were increasing, and that women were the worst sufferers from + men. There might even be something in my idea that the older women of the + community should devote themselves to this service, making themselves + race-mothers, and helping, not merely in their homes, but in the schools + and churches, to protect and save the future generations. But all that was + in the future, he argued, while here was a case which had gone so far that + “letting in the light” could only blast the life of two people, making it + impossible for a young mother ever again to tolerate the father of her + child. I argued that Sylvia was not of the hysterical type, but I could + not make him agree that it was possible to predict what the attitude of + any woman would be. His ideas were based on one peculiar experience he had + had—a woman patient who had said to him: “Doctor, I know what is the + matter with me, but for God’s sake don’t let my husband find out that I + know, because then I should feel that my self-respect required me to leave + him!” + </p> + <p> + 23. The Master-of-the-House was coming! You could feel the quiver of + excitement in the air of the place. The boatmen were polishing the brasses + of the launch; the yard-man was raking up the dry strips of palm from + beneath the cocoanut trees; Aunt Varina was ordering new supplies, and + entering into conspiracies with the cook. The nurses asked me timidly, + what was He like, and even Dr. Gibson, a testy old gentleman who had + clashed violently with me on the subject of woman’s suffrage, and had + avoided me ever since as a suspicious character, now came and confided his + troubles. He had sent home for a trunk, and the graceless express + companies had sent it astray. Now he was wondering if it was necessary for + him to journey to Key West and have a suit of dinner clothes made over + night. I told him that I had not sent for any party-dresses, and that I + expected to meet Mr. Douglas van Tuiver at his dinner-table in plain white + linen. His surprise was so great that I suspected the old gentleman of + having wondered whether I meant to retire to a “second-table” when the + Master-of-the-House arrived. + </p> + <p> + I went away by myself, seething with wrath. Who was this great one whom we + honoured? Was he an inspired poet, a maker of laws, a discoverer of truth? + He was the owner of an indefinite number of millions of dollars—that + was all, and yet I was expected, because of my awe of him, to abandon the + cherished convictions of my lifetime. The situation was one that + challenged my fighting blood. This was the hour to prove whether I really + meant the things I talked. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the day that van Tuiver was expected, I went early to + Aunt Varina’s room. She was going in the launch, and was in a state of + flustration, occupied in putting on her best false hair. “Mrs. Tuis,” I + said, “I want you to let me go to meet Mr. van Tuiver instead of you.” + </p> + <p> + I will not stop to report the good lady’s outcries. I did not care, I + said, whether it was proper, nor did I care whether, as she finally + hinted, it might not be agreeable to Mr. van Tuiver. I was sorry to have + to thrust myself upon him, but I was determined to go, and would let + nothing prevent me. And all at once she yielded, rather surprising me by + the suddenness of it. I suppose she concluded that van Tuiver was the man + to handle me, and the quicker he got at it the better. + </p> + <p> + It is a trying thing to deal with the rich and great. If you treat them as + the rest of the world does, you are a tuft-hunter; if you treat them as + the rest of the world pretends to, you are a hypocrite; whereas, if you + deal with them truly, it is hard not to seem, even to yourself, a + bumptious person. I remember trying to tell myself on the launch-trip that + I was not in the least excited; and then, standing on the platform of the + railroad station, saying: “How can you expect not to be excited, when even + the railroad is excited?” + </p> + <p> + “Will Mr. van Tuiver’s train be on time?” I asked, of the agent. + </p> + <p> + “‘Specials’ are not often delayed,” he replied, “at least, not Mr. van + Tuiver’s.” + </p> + <p> + The engine and its two cars drew up, and the traveller stepped out upon + the platform, followed by his secretary and his valet. I went forward to + meet him. “Good morning, Mr. van Tuiver.” + </p> + <p> + I saw at once that he did not remember me. “Mrs. Abbott,” I prompted. “I + came to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he said. He had never got clear whether I was a sewing-woman, or a + tutor, or what, and whenever he erred in such matters, it was on the side + of caution. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife is doing well,” I said, “and the child as well as could be + expected.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said. “Did no one else come?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis was not able,” I said, diplomatically, and we moved towards the + launch. + </p> + <p> + 24. He did not offer to help me into the vessel, but I, crude Western + woman, did not miss the attention. We seated ourselves in the upholstered + leather seats in the stern, and when the “luggage” had been stowed aboard, + the little vessel swung away from the pier. Then I said: “If you will + pardon me, Mr. van Tuiver, I should like to talk with you privately.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me for a moment, and then answered, abruptly: “Yes, madam.” + The secretary rose and went forward. + </p> + <p> + The whirr of the machinery and the strong breeze made by the boat’s + motion, made it certain that no one could hear us, and so I began my + attack: “Mr. van Tuiver, I am a friend of your wife’s. I came here to help + her in this crisis, and I came to-day to meet you because it was necessary + for someone to talk to you frankly about the situation. You will + understand, I presume, that Mrs. Tuis is not—not very well informed + about the matters in question.” + </p> + <p> + His gaze was fixed intently upon me, but he said not a word. After + waiting, I continued: “Perhaps you will wonder why your wife’s physicians + could not have handled the matter. The reason is, there is a woman’s side + to such questions and often it is difficult for men to understand it. If + Sylvia knew the truth, she could speak for herself; so long as she does + not know it, I shall have to take the liberty of speaking for her.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause. He did nothing more than watch me, yet I could + feel his affronted maleness rising up for battle. I waited on purpose to + compel him to speak. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” he inquired, at last, “what you mean by the ‘truth’ that you + refer to?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” I said, “the cause of the infant’s affliction.” + </p> + <p> + His composure was a thing to wonder at. He did not show by the flicker of + an eyelash any sign of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Let me explain one thing,” I continued. “I owe it to Dr. Perrin to make + clear that he had nothing whatever to do with my coming into possession of + the secret. In fact, as he will no doubt tell you, I knew it before he + did; it is possible that you owe it to me that the infant is not + disfigured as well as blind.” + </p> + <p> + I paused again. “If that be true,” he said, with unshaken formality, “I am + obliged to you.” What a man! + </p> + <p> + I continued: “My one desire and purpose is to protect my friend. So far, + the secret has been kept from her. I consented to this, because her very + life was at stake, it seemed to us all. But now she is well enough to + know, and the question is SHALL she know. I need hardly tell you that Dr. + Perrin thinks she should not, and that he has been using his influence to + persuade me to agree with him; so also has Mrs. Tuis——” + </p> + <p> + Then I saw the first trace of uncertainty in his eyes. “There was a + critical time,” I explained, “when Mrs. Tuis had to be told. You may be + sure, however, that no hint of the truth will be given by her. I am the + only person who is troubled with the problem of Sylvia’s rights.” + </p> + <p> + I waited. “May I suggest, Mrs.—Mrs. Abbott—that the protection + of Mrs. van Tuiver’s rights can be safely left to her physicians and her + husband?” + </p> + <p> + “One would wish so, Mr. van Tuiver, but the medical books are full of + evidence that women’s rights frequently need other protection.” + </p> + <p> + I perceived that he was nearing the end of his patience now. “You make it + difficult for me to talk to you,” he said. “I am not accustomed to having + my affairs taken out of my hands by strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. van Tuiver,” I replied, “in this most critical matter it is necessary + to speak without evasion. Before her marriage Sylvia made an attempt to + safeguard herself in this very matter, and she was not dealt with fairly.” + </p> + <p> + At last I had made a hole in the mask! His face was crimson as he replied: + “Madam, your knowledge of my private affairs is most astonishing. May I + inquire how you learned these things?” + </p> + <p> + I did not reply at once, and he repeated the question. I perceived that + this was to him the most important matter—his wife’s lack of + reserve! + </p> + <p> + “The problem that concerns us here,” I said, “is whether you are willing + to repair the error you made. Will you go frankly to your wife and admit + your responsibility——” + </p> + <p> + He broke in, angrily: “Madam, the assumption you are making is one I see + no reason for permitting.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. van Tuiver,” said I, “I hoped that you would not take that line of + argument. I perceive that I have been <i>naive.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Really, madam!” he replied, with cruel intent, “you have not impressed me + so!” + </p> + <p> + I continued unshaken: “In this conversation it will be necessary to assume + that you are responsible for the presence of the disease.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” he replied, haughtily, “I can have no further part in the + conversation, and I will ask you to drop it at once.” + </p> + <p> + I might have taken him at his word and waited, confident that in the end + he would have to come and ask for terms. But that would have seemed + childish to me, with the grave matters we had to settle. After a minute or + two, I said, quietly: “Mr. van Tuiver, you wish me to believe that + previous to your marriage you had always lived a chaste life?” + </p> + <p> + He was equal to the effort it cost to control himself. He sat examining me + with his cold grey eyes. I suppose I must have been as new and monstrous a + phenomenon to him as he was to me. + </p> + <p> + At last, seeing that he would not reply, I said, coldly: “It will help us + to get forward if you will give up the idea that it is possible for you to + put me off, or to escape this situation.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he cried, suddenly, “come to the point! What is it that you want? + Money?” + </p> + <p> + I had thought I was prepared for everything; but this was an aspect of his + world which I could hardly have been expected to allow for. I stared at + him and then turned from the sight of him. “And to think that Sylvia is + married to such a man!” I whispered, half to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Abbott,” he exclaimed, “how can anyone understand what you are + driving at?” + </p> + <p> + But I turned away without answering, and for a long time sat gazing over + the water. What was the use of pleading with such a man? What was the use + of pouring out one’s soul to him? I would tell Sylvia the truth at once, + and leave him to her! + </p> + <p> + 25. I heard him again, at last; he was talking to my back, his tone a + trifle less aloof. “Mrs. Abbott, do you realize that I know nothing + whatever about you—your character, your purpose, the nature of your + hold upon my wife? So what means have I of judging? You threaten me with + something that seems to me entirely insane—and what can I make of + it? If you wish me to understand you, tell me in plain words what you + want.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected that I was in the world, and must take it as I found it. “I + have told you what I want,” I said; “but I will tell you again, if it is + necessary. I hoped to persuade you that it was your duty to go to your + wife and tell her the truth.” + </p> + <p> + He took a few moments to make sure of his self-possession. “And would you + explain what good you imagine that could do?” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife,” I said, “must be put in position to protect herself in + future. There is no means of making sure in such a matter, except to tell + her the truth. You love her—and you are a man who has never been + accustomed to do without what he wants.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God, woman!” he cried. “Don’t you suppose one blind child is + enough?” + </p> + <p> + It was the first human word that he had spoken, and I was grateful for it. + “I have already covered that point,” I said, in a low voice. “The medical + books are full of painful evidence that several blind children are often + not enough. There can be no escaping the necessity—Sylvia must <i>know.</i> + The only question is, who shall tell her? You must realize that in urging + you to be the person, I am thinking of your good as well as hers. I will, + of course, not mention that I have had anything to do with persuading you, + and so it will seem to her that you have some realization of the wrong you + have done her, some desire to atone for it, and to be honourable and fair + in your future dealings with her. When she has once been made to realize + that you are no more guilty than other men of your class—hat you + have done no worse than all of them—— + </p> + <p> + “You imagine she could be made to believe that?” he broke in, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I will undertake to see that she believes it,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have great confidence in your ability to manage my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “If you continue to resent my existence,” I answered, gravely, “you will + make it impossible for me to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he said—but he did not say it cordially. + </p> + <p> + I went on: “There is much that can be said in your behalf. I realize it is + quite possible that you were not wholly to blame when you wrote to Bishop + Chilton that you were fit to marry; I know that you may have believed it—that + you might even have found physicians to tell you so. There is wide-spread + ignorance on the subject of this disease. Men have the idea that the + chronic forms of it cannot be communicated to women, and it is difficult + to make them realize what modern investigations have proven. You can + explain that to Sylvia, and I will back you up in it. You were in love + with her, you wanted her. Go to her now, and admit to her honestly that + you have wronged her. Beg her to forgive you, and to let you help make the + best of the cruel situation that has arisen.” + </p> + <p> + So I went on, pouring out my soul. And when I had finished, he said, “Mrs. + Abbott, I have listened patiently to your most remarkable proposition. My + answer is that I must ask you to withdraw from this intimate matter, which + concerns only my wife and myself.” + </p> + <p> + He was back where we started! Trying to sweep aside these grim and + terrible realities with the wave of a conventional hand! Was this the way + he met Sylvia’s arguments? I felt moved to tell him what I thought of him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a proud man, Mr. van Tuiver—an obstinate man, I fear. It is + hard for you to humble yourself to your wife—to admit a crime and + beg forgiveness. Tell me—is that why you hesitate? Is it because you + fear you will have to take second place in your family from now on—that + you will no longer be able to dominate Sylvia? Are you afraid of putting + into her hands a weapon of self-defence?” + </p> + <p> + He made no response. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, at last. “Let me tell you, then—I will not help + any man to hold such a position in a woman’s life. Women have to bear half + the burdens of marriage, they pay half, or more than half, the penalties; + and so it is necessary that they have a voice in its affairs. Until they + know the truth, they can never have a voice.” + </p> + <p> + Of course my little lecture on Feminism might as well have been delivered + to a sphinx. “How stupid you are!” I cried. “Don’t you know that some day + Sylvia must find out the truth for herself?” + </p> + <p> + This was before the days when newspapers and magazines began to discuss + such matters frankly; but still there were hints to be picked up. I had a + newspaper-item in my bag—the board of health in a certain city had + issued a circular giving instructions for the prevention of blindness in + newly-born infants, and discussing the causes thereof; and the United + States post office authorities had barred the circular from the mails. I + said, “Suppose that item had come under Sylvia’s eyes; might it not have + put her on the track. It was in her newspaper the day before yesterday; + and it was only by accident that I got hold of it first. Do you suppose + that can go on forever?” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I am here,” he replied, “I will be glad to relieve you of such + responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + Which naturally made me cross. I drew from my quiver an arrow that I + thought would penetrate his skin. “Mr. van Tuiver,” I said, “a man in your + position must always be an object of gossip and scandal. Suppose some + enemy were to send your wife an anonymous letter? Or suppose there were + some woman who thought that you had wronged her?” + </p> + <p> + I stopped. He gave me one keen look—and then again the impenetrable + mask! “My wife will have to do as other women in her position do—pay + no attention to scandal-mongers of any sort.” + </p> + <p> + I paused, and then went on: “I believe in marriage. I consider it a sacred + thing; I would do anything in my power to protect and preserve a marriage. + But I hold that it must be an equal partnership. I would fight to make it + that; and wherever I found that it could not be that, I would say it was + not marriage, but slavery, and I would fight just as hard to break it. Can + you not understand that attitude upon a woman’s part?” + </p> + <p> + He gave no sign that he could understand. But still I would not give up my + battle. “Mr. van Tuiver,” I pleaded, “I am a much older person than you. I + have seen a great deal of life—I have seen suffering even worse than + yours. And I am trying most earnestly to help you. Can you not bring + yourself to talk to me frankly? Perhaps you have never talked with a woman + about such matters—I mean, with a good woman. But I assure you that + other men have found it possible, and never regretted the confidence they + placed in me.” + </p> + <p> + I went on to tell him about my own sons, and what I had done for them; I + told him of a score of other boys in their class who had come to me, + making me a sort of mother-confessor. I do not think that I was entirely + deceived by my own eloquence—there was, I am sure, a minute or two + when he actually wavered. But then the habits of a precocious life-time + reasserted themselves, and he set his lips and told himself that he was + Douglas van Tuiver. Such things might happen in raw Western colleges, but + they were not according to the Harvard manner, nor the tradition of life + in Fifth Avenue clubs. + </p> + <p> + He could not be a boy! He had never had any boyhood, any childhood—he + had been a state personage ever since he had known that he was anything. I + found myself thinking suddenly of the thin-lipped old family lawyer, who + had had much to do with shaping his character, and whom Sylvia described + to me, sitting at her dinner-table and bewailing the folly of people who + “admitted things.” That was what made trouble for family lawyers—not + what people did, but what they admitted. How easy it was to ignore + impertinent questions! And how few people had the wit to do it!-it seemed + as if the shade of the thin-lipped old family lawyer were standing by + Douglas van Tuiver’s side. + </p> + <p> + In a last desperate effort, I cried, “Even suppose that I grant your + request, even suppose I agree not to tell Sylvia the truth—still the + day will come when you will hear from her the point-blank question: ‘Is my + child blind because of this disease?’ And what will you answer?” + </p> + <p> + He said, in his cold, measured tones, “I will answer that there are a + thousand ways in which the disease can be innocently acquired.” + </p> + <p> + For a long time there was silence between us. At last he spoke again, and + his voice was as emotionless as if we had just met: “Do I understand you, + madam, that if I reject your advice and refuse to tell my wife what you + call the truth, it is your intention to tell her yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “You understand me correctly,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask when you intend to carry out this threat?” + </p> + <p> + “I will wait,” I said, “I will give you every chance to think it over—to + consult with the doctors, in case you wish to. I will not take the step + without giving you fair notice.” + </p> + <p> + “For that I am obliged to you,” he said, with a touch of irony; and that + was our last word. + </p> + <p> + 26. Our island was visible in the distance and I was impatient for the + time when I should be free from this man’s presence. But as we drew + nearer, I noticed a boat coming out; it proved to be one of the smaller + launches heading directly for us. Neither van Tuiver nor I spoke, but both + of us watched it, and he must have been wondering, as I was, what its + purpose could be. When it was near enough, I made out that its passengers + were Dr. Perrin and Dr. Gibson. + </p> + <p> + We slowed up, and the other boat did the same, and they lay within a few + feet of each other. Dr. Perrin greeted van Tuiver, and after introducing + the other man, he said: “We came out to have a talk with you. Would you be + so good as to step into this boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the reply. The two launches were drawn side by side, and + the transfer made; the man who was running the smaller launch stepped into + ours—evidently having been instructed in advance. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse us please?” said the little doctor to me. The man who had + stepped into our launch spoke to the captain of it, and the power was then + put on, and we moved away a sufficient distance to be out of hearing. I + thought this a strange procedure, but I conjectured that the doctors had + become nervous as to what I might have told van Tuiver. So I dismissed the + matter from my mind, and spent my time reviewing the exciting adventure I + had just passed through. + </p> + <p> + How much impression had I made? It was hard for me to judge such a man. He + would pretend to be less concerned than he actually was. But surely he + must see that he was in my power, and would have to give way in the end! + </p> + <p> + There came a hail from the little vessel, and we moved alongside again. + “Would you kindly step in here with us, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin, and + when I had done so, he ordered the boatman to move away once more. Van + Tuiver said not a word, but I noted a strained look upon his face, and I + thought the others seemed agitated also. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the other vessel was out of hearing, Dr. Perrin turned to me + and said: “Mrs. Abbott, we came out to see Mr. van Tuiver, to warn him of + a distressing accident which has just happened. Mrs. van Tuiver was asleep + in her room, and Miss Lyman and another of the nurses were in the next + room. They indiscreetly made some remarks on the subject which we have all + been discussing—how much a wife should be told about these matters, + and suddenly they discovered Mrs. van Tuiver standing in the doorway of + the room.” + </p> + <p> + My gaze had turned to Douglas van Tuiver. “So she <i>knows!</i>” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t think that she knows, but she has a suspicion and is trying to + find out. She asked to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “She declared that she wished to see you as soon as you returned—that + she would not see anyone else, not even Mr. van Tuiver. You will + understand that this portends trouble for all of us. We judged it + necessary to have a consultation about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed in assent. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Abbot,” began the little doctor, solemnly, “there is no longer + a question of abstract ideas, but of an immediate emergency. We feel that + we, as the physicians in charge of the case, have the right to take + control of the matter. We do not see——” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “let us come to the point. You want me to spin a new + web of deception?” + </p> + <p> + “We are of the opinion, Mrs. Abbott, that in such matters the physicians + in charge——” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” I said, quickly, “we have been over all this before, and we + know that we disagree. Has Mr. van Tuiver told you of the proposition I + have just made?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean for him to go to his wife——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He has told us of this, and has offered to do it. We are of the opinion + that it would be a grave mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been three weeks since the birth of the baby,” I said. “Surely all + danger of fever is past. I will grant you that if it were a question of + telling her deliberately, it might be better to put it off for a while. I + would have been willing to wait for months, but for the fact that I + dreaded something like the present situation. Now that it has happened, + surely it is best to use our opportunity while all of us are here and can + persuade her to take the kindest attitude towards her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” broke in Dr. Gibson. (He was having difficulty in controlling his + excitement.) “You are asking us to overstep the bounds of our professional + duty. It is not for the physician to decide upon the attitude a wife + should take toward her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Gibson,” I replied, “that is what you propose to do, only you wish to + conceal the fact. You would force Mrs. van Tuiver to accept your opinion + of what a wife’s duty is.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Perrin took command once more. “Our patient has asked for you, and she + looks to you for guidance. You must put aside your own convictions and + think of her health. You are the only person who can calm her, and surely + it is your duty to do so!” + </p> + <p> + “I know that I might go in and lie again to my friend, but she knows too + much to be deceived for very long. You know what a mind she has—a + lawyer’s mind! How can I persuade her that the nurses—why, I do not + even know what she heard the nurses say!” + </p> + <p> + “We have that all written down for you,” put in Dr. Perrin, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You have their recollection of it, no doubt—but suppose they have + forgotten some of it? Sylvia has not forgotten, you may be sure—every + word is burned with fire into her brain. She has put with this everything + she ever heard on the subject—the experience of her friend, Harriet + Atkinson-all that I’ve told her in the past about such things——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” growled Dr. Gibson. “That’s it! If you had not meddled in the + beginning——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” said the other, soothingly. “You ask me to relieve you of the + embarrassment of this matter. I quite agree with Mrs. Abbott that there is + too much ignorance about these things, but she must recognise, I am sure, + that this is not the proper moment for enlightening Mrs. van Tuiver.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not recognise it at all,” I said. “If her husband will go to her and + tell her humbly and truthfully——” + </p> + <p> + “You are talking madness!” cried the old man, breaking loose again. “She + would be hysterical—she would regard him as something loathsome—some + kind of criminal——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she would be shocked,” I said, “but she has the coolest head of + anyone I know—I do not think of any man I would trust so fully to + take a rational attitude in the end. We can explain to her what + extenuating circumstances there are, and she will have to recognise them. + She will see that we are considering her rights——” + </p> + <p> + “Her <i>rights!</i>” The old man fairly snorted the words. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now, Dr. Gibson!” interposed the other. “You asked me——” + </p> + <p> + “I know! I know! But as the older of the physicians in charge of this case——” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Perrin managed to frown him down, and went on trying to placate me. + But through the argument I could hear the old man muttering in his collar + a kind of double bass <i>pizzicato</i>: “Suffragettes! Fanatics! Hysteria! + Woman’s Rights!” + </p> + <p> + 27. The breeze was feeble, and the sun was blazing hot, but nevertheless I + made myself listen patiently for a while. They had said it all to me, over + and over again; but it seemed that Dr. Perrin could not be satisfied until + it had been said in Douglas van Tuiver’s presence. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I exclaimed, “even supposing we make the attempt to deceive + her, we have not one plausible statement to make——” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Mrs. Abbott,” said he. “We have the perfectly + well-known fact that this disease is often contracted in ways which + involve no moral blame. And in this case I believe I am in position to + state how the accident happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether you heard that just before Mrs. van Tuiver’s + confinement, I was called away to one of the other keys to attend a + negro-woman. And since this calamity has befallen us, I have realized that + I was possibly not as careful in sterilizing my instruments as I might + have been. It is of course a dreadful thing for any physician to have to + believe——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and there was a long silence. I gazed from one to another of + the men. Two of them met my gaze; one did not. “He is going to let you say + that?” I whispered, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Honour and fairness compel me to say it, Mrs. Abbott. I believe——” + </p> + <p> + But I interrupted him. “Listen to me, Dr. Perrin. You are a chivalrous + gentleman, and you think you are helping a man in desperate need. But I + say that anyone who would permit you to tell such a tale is a contemptible + coward!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” cried Dr. Gibson, furiously, “there is a limit even to a woman’s + rights!” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed. At last I resumed, in a low voice, “You gentlemen have + your code: you protect the husband—you protect him at all hazards. I + could understand this, if he were innocent of the offence in question; I + could understand it if there were any possibility of his being innocent. + But how can you protect him, when you know that he is guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no question of such knowledge!” cried the old doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” I said, “how much he has admitted to you; but let me + remind you of one circumstance, which is known to Dr. Perrin—that I + came to this place with the definite information that symptoms of the + disease were to be anticipated. Dr. Perrin knows that I told that to Dr. + Overton in New York. Has he informed you of it?” + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward interval. I glanced at van Tuiver, and I saw that he + was leaning forward, staring at me. I thought he was about to speak, when + Dr. Gibson broke in, excitedly, “All this is beside the mark! We have a + serious emergency to face, and we are not getting anywhere. As the older + of the physicians in charge of this case——” + </p> + <p> + And he went on to give me a lecture on the subject of authority. He talked + for five minutes, ten minutes—I lost all track of the time. I had + suddenly begun to picture how I would act and what I would say when I went + into Sylvia’s room. What a state must Sylvia be in, while we sat out here + in the blazing mid-day sun, discussing her right to freedom and knowledge! + </p> + <p> + 28. “I have always been positive,” Dr. Gibson was saying, “but the present + discussion has made me more positive than ever. As the older of the + physicians in charge of this case, I say most emphatically that the + patient shall not be told!” + </p> + <p> + I could not stand him any longer. “I am going to tell the patient,” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “You shall <i>not</i> tell her!” + </p> + <p> + “But how will you prevent me?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not <i>see</i> her!” + </p> + <p> + “But she is determined to see <i>me!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “She will be told that you are not there.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long do you imagine that that will satisfy her?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. They looked at van Tuiver, expecting him to speak. And + so I heard once more his cold, deliberate voice. “We have done all we can. + There can no longer be any question as to the course to be taken. Mrs. + Abbott will not return to my home.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I cried. I stared at him, aghast. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say—that you will not be taken back to the island.” + </p> + <p> + “But where will I be taken?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be taken to the mainland.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at the others. No one gave a sign. At last I whispered, “You + would <i>dare?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “You leave us no other alternative,” replied the master. + </p> + <p> + “You—you will practically kidnap me!” My voice must have been rather + wild at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “You left my home of your own free will. I think I need hardly point out + to you that I am not compelled to invite you back to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will Sylvia——” I stopped; appalled at the vista the + words opened up. + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” said van Tuiver, “will ultimately choose between her husband + and her most remarkable acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “And you gentlemen?” I turned to the others. “You would give your sanction + to this outrageous action?” + </p> + <p> + “As the older of the physicians in charge of this case——” + began Dr. Gibson. + </p> + <p> + I turned to van Tuiver again. “When your wife finds out what you have done + to me—what will you answer?” + </p> + <p> + “We will deal with that situation when we come to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I said, “you understand that sooner or later I shall get word + to her!” + </p> + <p> + He answered, “We shall assume from now on that you are a mad woman, and + shall take our precautions accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a silence. + </p> + <p> + “The launch will return to the mainland,” said van Tuiver at last. “It + will remain there until Mrs. Abbott sees fit to go ashore. May I ask if + she has sufficient money in her purse to take her to New York?” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing. The thing was so wild—and yet I could see + that from their point of view it was the only thing to do. “Mrs. Abbott is + not certain that she is going back to New York,” I replied. “If she does + go, it will not be with Mr. van Tuiver’s money.” + </p> + <p> + “One thing more,” said Dr. Perrin. It was the first time he had spoken + since van Tuiver’s incredible announcement. “I trust, Mrs. Abbott, that + this unfortunate situation may at all costs be concealed from servants, + and from the world in general.” + </p> + <p> + From which I realized how badly I had them frightened. They actually saw + me making physical resistance! + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I replied, “I am acting in this matter for my friend. I will + add this: that I believe that you are letting yourself be overborne, and + that you will regret it some day.” + </p> + <p> + He made no answer. Douglas van Tuiver put an end to the discussion by + rising and signalling the other launch. When it had come alongside, he + said to the captain, “Mrs. Abbott is going back to the railroad. You will + take her at once.” + </p> + <p> + Then he waited; I was malicious enough to give him an anxious moment + before I rose. Dr. Perrin offered me his hand; and Dr. Gibson said, with a + smile, “Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott. I’m sorry you can’t stay with us any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + I think it was something to my credit that I was able to play out the game + before the boatmen. “I am sorry, too,” I countered. “I am hoping I shall + be able to return.” + </p> + <p> + And then came the real ordeal. “Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott,” said Douglas van + Tuiver, with his stateliest bow; and I managed to answer him! + </p> + <p> + As I took my seat, he beckoned his secretary. There was a whispered + consultation for a minute or two, and then the master returned to the + smaller launch with the doctors. He gave the word, and the two vessels set + out—one to the key, and the other to the railroad. The secretary + went in the one with me! + </p> + <p> + 29. And here ends a certain stage of my story. I have described Sylvia as + I met her and judged her; and if there be any reader who has been irked by + this method, who thinks of me as a crude and pushing person, disposed to + meddle in the affairs of others, here is where that reader will have his + satisfaction and revenge. For if ever a troublesome puppet was jerked + suddenly off the stage—if ever a long-winded orator was effectively + snuffed out—I was that puppet and that orator. I stop and think—shall + I describe how I paced up and down the pier, respectfully but emphatically + watched by the secretary? And all the melodramatic plots I conceived, the + muffled oars and the midnight visits to my Sylvia? My sense of humour + forbids it. For a while now I shall take the hint and stay in the + background of this story. I shall tell the experiences of Sylvia as Sylvia + herself told them to me long afterwards; saying no more about my own fate—save + that I swallowed my humiliation and took the next train to New York, a far + sadder and wiser social-reformer! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL + </h2> + <p> + 1. Long afterwards Sylvia told me about what happened between her husband + and herself; how desperately she tried to avoid discussing the issue with + him—out of her very sense of fairness to him. But he came to her + room, in spite of her protest, and by his implacable persistence he made + her hear what he had to say. When he had made up his mind to a certain + course of action, he was no more to be resisted than a glacier. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” he said, “I know that you are upset by what has happened. I make + every allowance for your condition; but there are some statements that I + must be permitted to make, and there are simply no two ways about it—you + must get yourself together and hear me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see Mary Abbott!” she insisted, again and again. “It may not be + what you want—but I demand to see her.” + </p> + <p> + So at last he said, “You cannot see Mrs. Abbott. She has gone back to New + York.” And then, at her look of consternation: “That is one of the things + I have to talk to you about.” + </p> + <p> + “Why has she gone back?” cried Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Because I was unwilling to have her here.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you sent her away?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that she understood she was no longer welcome.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia drew a quick breath and turned away to the window. + </p> + <p> + He took advantage of the opportunity to come near, and draw up a chair for + her. “Will you not pleased to be seated,” he said. And at last she turned, + rigidly, and seated herself. + </p> + <p> + “The time has come,” he declared, “when we have to settle this question of + Mrs. Abbott, and her influence upon your life. I have argued with you + about such matters, but now what has happened makes further discussion + impossible. You were brought up among people of refinement, and it has + been incredible to me that you should be willing to admit to your home + such a woman as this—not merely of the commonest birth, but without + a trace of the refinement to which you have been accustomed. And now you + see the consequences of your having brought such a person into our life!” + </p> + <p> + He paused. She made no sound, and her gaze was riveted upon the + window-curtain. + </p> + <p> + “She happens to be here,” he went on, “at a time when a dreadful calamity + befalls us—when we are in need of the utmost sympathy and + consideration. Here is an obscure and terrible affliction, which has + baffled the best physicians in the country; but this ignorant farmer’s + wife considers that she knows all about it. She proceeds to discuss it + with every one—sending your poor aunt almost into hysterics, setting + the nurses to gossiping—God knows what else she has done, or what + she will do, before she gets through. I don’t pretend to know her ultimate + purpose—blackmail, possibly——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how can you!” she broke out, involuntarily. “How can you say such a + thing about a friend of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “I might answer with another question—how can you have such a + friend? A woman who has cast off every restraint, every consideration of + decency—and yet is able to persuade a daughter of the Castlemans to + make her an intimate! Possibly she is an honest fanatic. Dr. Perrin tells + me she was the wife of a brutal farmer, who mistreated her. No doubt that + has embittered her against men, and accounts for her mania. You see that + her mind leaped at once to the most obscene and hideous explanation of + this misfortune of ours—an explanation which pleased her because it + blackened the honour of a man.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped again. Sylvia’s eyes had moved back to the window-curtain. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to insult your ears,” he said, “with discussions of her + ideas. The proper person to settle such matters is a physician, and if you + wish Dr. Perrin to do so, he will tell you what he knows about the case. + But I wish you to realize somehow what this thing has meant to me. I have + managed to control myself——” He saw her shut her lips more + tightly. “The doctors tell me that I must not excite you. But picture the + situation. I come to my home, bowed down with grief for you and for my + child. And this mad woman thrusts herself forward, shoves aside your aunt + and your physicians, and comes in the launch to meet me at the station. + And then she accuses me of being criminally guilty of the blindness of my + child—of having wilfully deceived my wife! Think of it—that is + my welcome to my home!” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she cried, wildly, “Mary Abbott would not have done such a + thing without reason——” + </p> + <p> + “I do not purpose to defend myself,” he said, coldly. “If you are bent + upon filling your mind with such matters, go to Dr. Perrin. He will tell + you that he, as a physician, knows that the charge against me is + preposterous. He will tell you that even granting that the cause of the + blindness is what Mrs. Abbott guesses, there are a thousand ways in which + such an infection can be contracted, which are perfectly innocent, + involving no guilt on the part of anyone. Every doctor knows that + drinking-cups, wash-basins, towels, even food, can be contaminated. He + knows that any person can bring the affliction into a home—servants, + nurses, even the doctors themselves. Has your mad woman friend told you + any of that?” + </p> + <p> + “She has told me nothing. You know that I have had no opportunity to talk + with her. I only know what the nurses believe——” + </p> + <p> + “They believe what Mrs. Abbott told them. That is absolutely all the + reason they have for believing anything!” + </p> + <p> + She did not take that quite as he expected. “So Mary Abbott <i>did</i> + tell them!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He hurried on: “The poisonous idea of a vulgar Socialist woman—this + is the thing upon which you base your suspicions of your husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she whispered, half to herself. “Mary Abbott <i>did</i> say it!” + </p> + <p> + “What if she did?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Douglas, Mary would never have said such a thing to a nurse unless + she had been certain of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Certain?” he broke out. “What certainty could she imagine she had? She is + a bitter, frantic woman—a divorced woman—who jumped to the + conclusion that pleased her, because it involved the humiliation of a rich + man.” + </p> + <p> + He went on, his voice trembling with suppressed passion: “When you know + the real truth, the thing becomes a nightmare. You, a delicate woman, + lying here helpless—the victim of a cruel misfortune, and with the + life of an afflicted infant depending upon your peace of mind. Your + physicians planning day and night to keep you quiet, to keep the dreadful, + unbearable truth from you——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what truth? That’s the terrifying thing—to know that people are + keeping things from me! What <i>was</i> it they were keeping?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, the fact that the baby was blind; and then the cause of it——” + </p> + <p> + “Then they <i>do</i> know the cause?” + </p> + <p> + “They don’t know positively—no one can know positively. But poor Dr. + Perrin had a dreadful idea, that he had to hide from you because otherwise + he could not bear to continue in your house——” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Douglas! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that a few days before your confinement, he was called away to the + case of a negro-woman—you knew that, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “He had the torturing suspicion that possibly he was not careful enough in + sterilizing his instruments, and that he, your friend and protector, may + be the man who is to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh!” Her voice was a whisper of horror. + </p> + <p> + “That is one of the secrets your doctors have been trying to hide.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence, while her eyes searched his face. Suddenly she + stretched out her hands to him, crying desperately: “Oh, is this true?” + </p> + <p> + He did not take the outstretched hands. “Since I am upon the + witness-stand, I have to be careful of my replies. It is what Dr. Perrin + tells me. Whether the explanation he gives is the true one—whether + he himself, or the nurse he recommended, may have brought the infection——” + </p> + <p> + “It couldn’t have been the nurse,” she said quickly. “She was so careful——” + </p> + <p> + He did not allow her to finish. “You seem determined,” he said, coldly, + “to spare everyone but your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she protested, “I have tried hard to be fair—to be fair to + both you and my friend. Of course, if Mary Abbott was mistaken, I have + done you a great injustice—” + </p> + <p> + He saw that she was softening, and that it was safe for him to be a man. + “It has been with some difficulty that I have controlled myself throughout + this experience,” he said, rising to his feet. “If you do not mind, I + think I will not carry the discussion any further, as I don’t feel that I + can trust myself to listen to a defence of that woman from your lips. I + will only tell you my decision in the matter. I have never before used my + authority as a husband; I hoped I should never have to use it. But the + time has come when you will have to choose between Mary Abbott and your + husband. I will positively not tolerate your corresponding with her, or + having anything further to do with her. I take my stand upon that, and + nothing will move me. I will not even permit of any discussion of the + subject. And now I hope you will excuse me. Dr. Perrin wishes me to tell + you that either he or Dr. Gibson are ready at any time to advise you about + these matters, which have been forced upon your mind against their + judgment and protests.” + </p> + <p> + 2. You can see that it was no easy matter for Sylvia to get at the truth. + The nurses, already terrified because of their indiscretion, had been + first professionally thrashed, and then carefully drilled as to the + answers they were to make. But as a matter of fact they did not have to + make any answers at all, because Sylvia was unwilling to reveal to anyone + her distrust of her husband. + </p> + <p> + One of two things was certain: either she had been horribly wronged by her + husband, or now she was horribly wronging him. Which was the truth? Was it + conceivable that I, Mary Abbott, would leap to a false conclusion about + such a matter? She knew that I felt intensely, almost fanatically, on the + subject, and also that I had been under great emotional stress. Was it + possible that I would have voiced mere suspicions to the nurses? Sylvia + could not be sure, for my standards were as strange to her as my Western + accent. She knew that I talked freely to everyone about such matters—and + would be as apt to select the nurses as the ladies of the house. On the + other hand, how was it conceivable that I could know positively? To + recognize a disease might be easy; but to specify from what source it had + come—that was surely not in my power! + </p> + <p> + They did not leave her alone for long. Mrs. Tuis came in, with her + feminine terrors. “Sylvia, you must know that you are treating your + husband dreadfully! He has gone away down the beach by himself, and has + not even seen his baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Varina—” she began, “won’t you please go away?” + </p> + <p> + But the other rushed on: “Your husband comes here, broken with grief + because of this affliction; and you overwhelm him with the most cruel and + wicked reproaches with charges you have no way in the world of proving——” + And the old lady caught her niece by the hand. “My child! Come, do your + duty!” + </p> + <p> + “My duty?” + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself fit, and take your husband to see his baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can’t!” cried Sylvia. “I don’t want to be there when he sees her! + If I loved him—” Then, seeing her aunt’s face of horror, she was + seized with a sudden impulse of pity, and caught the poor old lady in her + arms. “Aunt Varina,” she said, “I am making you suffer, I know—I am + making everyone suffer! But if you only knew how I am suffering myself! + How can I know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tuis was weeping; but quickly she got herself together, and answered + in a firm voice, “Your old auntie can tell you what to do. You must come + to your senses, my child—you must let your reason prevail. Get your + face washed, make yourself presentable, and come and take your husband to + see your baby. Women have to suffer, dear; we must not shirk our share of + life’s burdens.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger of my shirking,” said Sylvia, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Come, dear, come,” pleaded Mrs. Tuis. She was trying to lead the girl to + the mirror. If only she could be made to see how distraught and disorderly + she looked! “Let me help you to dress, dear—you know how much better + it always makes you feel.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia laughed, a trifle wildly—but Mrs. Tuis had dealt with + hysteria before. “What would you like to wear?” she demanded. And then, + without waiting for an answer, “Let me choose something. One of your + pretty frocks.” + </p> + <p> + “A pretty frock, and a seething volcano underneath! That is your idea of a + woman’s life!” + </p> + <p> + The other responded very gravely, “A pretty frock, my dear, and a smile—instead + of a vulgar scene, and ruin and desolation afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia made no reply. Yes, that was the life of woman—her old aunt + knew! And her old aunt knew also the psychology of her sex. She did not go + on talking about pretty frocks in the abstract; she turned at once to the + clothes-closet, and began laying pretty frocks upon the bed! + </p> + <p> + 3. Sylvia emerged upon the “gallery,” clad in dainty pink muslin, her + beautiful shiny hair arranged under a semi-invalid’s cap of pink maline. + Her face was pale, and the big red-brown eyes were hollow; but she was + quiet, and apparently mistress of herself again. She even humoured Aunt + Varina by leaning slightly upon her feeble arm, while the maid hastened to + place her chair in a shaded spot. + </p> + <p> + Her husband came, and the doctors; the tea-things were brought, and Aunt + Varina poured tea, a-flutter with excitement. They talked about the + comparative temperatures of New York and the Florida Keys, and about + hedges of jasmine to shade the gallery from the evening sun. And after a + while, Aunt Varina arose, explaining that she would prepare Elaine for her + father’s visit. In the doorway she stood for a moment, smiling upon the + pretty picture; it was all settled now—the outward forms had been + observed, and the matter would end, as such matters should end between + husband and wife—a few tears, a few reproaches, and then a few + kisses. + </p> + <p> + The baby was made ready, with a new dress, and a fresh silk bandage to + cover the pitiful, lifeless eyes. Aunt Varina had found pleasure in making + these bandages; she made them soft and pretty—less hygienic, + perhaps, but avoiding the suggestion of the hospital. + </p> + <p> + When Sylvia and her husband came into the room, the faces of both of them + were white. Sylvia stopped near the door-way; and poor Aunt Varina + fluttered about, in agony of soul. When van Tuiver went to the cradle, she + hurried to his side, and sought to awaken the little one with gentle + nudges. Quite unexpectedly to her, van Tuiver sought to pick up the + infant; she helped him, and he stood, holding it awkwardly, as if afraid + it might go to pieces in his arms. + </p> + <p> + So any man might appear, with his first infant; but to Sylvia it seemed + the most tragic sight she had ever seen in her life. She gave a low cry, + “Douglas!” and he turned, and she saw his face was working with the + feeling he was ashamed for anyone to see. “Oh, Douglas,” she whispered, + “I’m so <i>sorry</i> for you!” At which Aunt Varina decided that it was + time for her to make her escape. + </p> + <p> + 4. But the trouble between these two were not such as could be settled by + any burst of emotion. The next day they were again in a dispute, for he + had come to ask her word of honour that she would never see me again, and + would give him my letters to be returned unopened. This last was what she + had let her father do in the case of Frank Shirley; and she had become + certain in her own mind that she had done wrong. + </p> + <p> + But he was insistent in his demand; declaring that it should be obvious to + her there could be no peace of mind for him so long as my influence + continued in her life. + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” protested Sylvia, “to hear Mary Abbott’s explanation——” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no explanation that is not an insult to your husband, and to + those who are caring for you. I am speaking in this matter not merely for + myself, but for your physicians, who know this woman, heard her menaces + and her vulgarity. It is their judgment that you should be protected at + all hazards from further contact with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she argued, “you must realize that I am in distress of mind + about this matter——” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly realize that.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you are thinking of my welfare, you should choose a course that + would set my mind at rest. But when you come to me and ask me that I + should not even read a letter from my friend—don’t you realize what + you suggest to me, that there is something you are afraid for me to know?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not attempt to deny my fear of this woman. I have seen how she has + been able to poison your mind with suspicions——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Douglas—but now that has been done. What else is there to fear + from her?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea what. She is a bitter, jealous woman, with a mind full of + hatred; and you are an innocent girl, who cannot judge about these + matters. What idea have you of the world in which you live, of the + slanders to which a man in your husband’s position is exposed?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite such a child as that——” + </p> + <p> + “You have simply no idea, I tell you. I remember your consternation when + we first met, and I told you about the woman who had written me a begging + letter, and got an interview with me, and then started screaming, and + refused to leave the house till I had paid her a lot of money. You had + never heard such stories, had you? Yet it is the kind of thing that is + happening to rich men continually; it was one of the first rules I was + taught, never to let myself be alone with a strange woman, no matter of + what age, or under what circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I assure you, I would not listen to such people——” + </p> + <p> + “You are asking right now to listen! And you would be influenced by her—you + could not help it, any more than you can help being distressed about what + she has already said. She intimated to Dr. Perrin that she believed that I + had been a man of depraved life, and that my wife and child were now + paying the penalty. How can I tell what vile stories concerning me she may + not have heard? How could I have any peace of mind while I knew that she + was free to pour them into your ear?” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia sat dumb with questions she would not utter, hovering on the tip of + her tongue. + </p> + <p> + He took her silence for acquiesence, and went on, quickly, “Let me give + you an illustration. A friend of mine whom you know well—I might as + well tell you his name, it was Freddie Atkins—was at supper with + some theatrical women; and one of them, not having any idea that Freddie + knew me, proceeded to talk about me, and how she had met me, and where we + had been together—about my yacht, and my castle in Scotland, and I + don’t know what all else. It seems that this woman had been my mistress + for several years; she told quite glibly about me and my habits. Freddie + got the woman’s picture, on some pretext or other, and brought it to me; I + had never laid eyes on her in my life. He could hardly believe it, and to + prove it to him I offered to meet the woman, under another name. We sat in + a restaurant, and she told the tale to Freddie and myself together—until + finally he burst out laughing, and told her who I was.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, to let this sink in. “Now, suppose your friend, Mary Abbott, + had met that woman! I don’t imagine she is particularly careful whom she + associates with; and suppose she had come and told you that she knew such + a woman—what would you have said? Can you deny that the tale would + have made an impression on you? Yet, I’ve not the least doubt there are + scores of women who made such tales about me a part of their stock in + trade; there are thousands of women whose fortunes would be made for life + if they could cause such a tale to be believed. And imagine how + well-informed they would be, if anyone were to ask them concerning my + habits, and the reason why our baby is blind! I tell you, when the rumour + concerning our child has begun to spread, there will be ten thousand + people in New York city who will know of first-hand, personal knowledge + exactly how it happened, and how you took it, and everything that I said + to you about it. There will be sneers in the society-papers, from New York + to San Francisco; and smooth-tongued gentlemen calling, to give us hints + that we can stop these sneers by purchasing a de-luxe edition of a history + of our ancestors for six thousand dollars. There will be well-meaning and + beautiful-souled people who will try to get you to confide in them, and + then use their knowledge of your domestic unhappiness to blackmail you; + there will be threats of law-suits from people who will claim that they + have contracted a disease from you or your child—your laundress, + perhaps, or your maid, or one of these nurses——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stop! stop!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite aware,” he said, quietly, “that these things are not + calculated to preserve the peace of mind of a young mother. You are + horrified when I tell you of them—yet you clamour for the right to + have Mrs. Abbott tell you of them! I warn you, Sylvia—you have + married a rich man, who is exposed to the attacks of cunning and + unscrupulous enemies. You, as his wife, are exactly as much exposed—possibly + even more so. Therefore when I see you entering into what I know to be a + dangerous intimacy, I must have the right to say to you, This shall stop, + and I tell you, there can never be any safety or peace of mind for either + of us, so long as you attempt to deny me that right.” + </p> + <p> + 5. Dr. Gibson took his departure three or four days later; and before he + went, he came to give her his final blessing; talking to her, as he + phrased it, “like a Dutch uncle.” “You must understand,” he said, “I am + almost old enough to be your grandfather. I have four sons, anyone of whom + might have married you, if they had had the good fortune to be in + Castleman County at the critical time. So you must let me be frank with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia indicated that she was willing. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t generally talk to women about these matters; because they’ve no + standard by which to judge, and they almost always fly off and have + hysterics. Their case seems to them exceptional and horrible, their + husbands the blackest criminals in the whole tribe.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment. “Now, Mrs. van Tuiver, the disease which has made + your baby blind is probably what we call gonorrhea. When it gets into the + eyes, it has very terrible results. But it doesn’t often get into the + eyes, and for the most part it’s a trifling affair, that we don’t worry + about. I know there are a lot of new-fangled notions, but I’m an old man, + with experience of my own, and I have to have things proven to me. I know + that with as much of this disease as we doctors see, if it was a deadly + disease, there’d be nobody left alive in the world. As I say, I don’t like + to discuss it with women; but it was not I who forced the matter upon your + attention——” + </p> + <p> + “Pray go on, Dr. Gibson,” she said. “I really wish to know all that you + will tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “The question has come up, how was this disease brought to your child? Dr. + Perrin suggested that possibly he—you understand his fear; and + possibly he is correct. But it seems to me an illustration of the unwisdom + of a physician’s departing from his proper duty, which is to cure people. + If you wish to find out who brought a disease, what you need is a + detective. I know, of course, that there are people who can combine the + duties of physician and detective—and that without any previous + preparation or study of either profession.” + </p> + <p> + He waited for this irony to sink in; and Sylvia also waited, patiently. + </p> + <p> + At last he resumed, “The idea has been planted in your mind that your + husband brought the trouble; and that idea is sure to stay there and + fester. So it becomes necessary for someone to talk to you straight. Let + me tell you that eight men out of ten have had this disease at some time + in their lives; also that very few of them were cured of it when they + thought they were. You have a cold: and then next month, you say the cold + is gone. So it is, for practical purposes. But if I take a microscope, I + find the germs of the cold still in your membranes, and I know that you + can give a cold, and a bad cold, to some one else who is sensitive. It is + true that you may go through all the rest of your life without ever being + entirely rid of that cold. You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sylvia, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I say eight out of ten. Estimates would differ. Some doctors would say + seven out of ten—and some actual investigations have shown nine out + of ten. And understand me, I don’t mean bar-room loafers and roustabouts. + I mean your brothers, if you have any, your cousins, your best friends, + the men who came to make love to you, and whom you thought of marrying. If + you had found it out about any one of them, of course you’d have cut the + acquaintance; yet you’d have been doing an injustice—for if you had + done that to all who’d ever had the disease, you might as well have + retired to a nunnery at once.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman paused again; then frowning at her under his bushy + eye-brows, he exclaimed, “I tell you, Mrs. van Tuiver, you’re doing your + husband a wrong. Your husband loves you, and he’s a good man—I’ve + had some talks with him, and I know he’s not got nearly so much on his + conscience as the average husband. I’m a Southern man, and I know these + gay young bloods you’ve danced and flirted with all your young life. Do + you think if you went probing into their secret affairs, you’d have had + much pleasure in their company afterwards? I tell you again, you’re doing + your husband a wrong! You’re doing something that very few men would + stand, as patiently as he has stood it so far.” + </p> + <p> + All this time Sylvia had given no sign. So the old gentleman began to feel + a trifle uneasy. “Mind you,” he said, “I’m not saying that men ought to be + like that. They deserve a good hiding, most of them—they’re very few + of them fit to associate with a good woman. I’ve always said that no man + is really good enough for a good woman. But my point is that when you + select one to punish, you select not the guiltiest one, but simply the one + who’s had the misfortune to fall under suspicion. And he knows that’s not + fair; he’d have to be more than human if deep in his soul he did not + bitterly resent it. You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she replied, in the same repressed voice. + </p> + <p> + And the doctor rose and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m going home,” + he said—“very probably we’ll never meet each other again. I see you + making a great mistake, laying up unhappiness for yourself in the future; + and I wish to prevent it if I can. I wish to persuade you to face the + facts of the world in which we live. So I am going to tell you something + that I never expected I should tell to a lady.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking her straight in the eye. “You see me—I’m an old man, + and I seem fairly respectable to you. You’ve laughed at me some, but even + so, you’ve found it possible to get along with me without too great + repugnance. Well, I’ve had this disease; I’ve had it, and nevertheless + I’ve raised six fine, sturdy children. More than that—I’m not free + to name anybody else, but I happen to know positively that among the men + your husband employs on this island there are two who have the disease + right now. And the next charming and well-bred gentleman you are + introduced to, just reflect that there are at least eight chances in ten + that he has had the disease, and perhaps three or four in ten that he has + it at the minute he’s shaking hands with you. And now you think that over, + and stop tormenting your poor husband!” + </p> + <p> + 6. One of the first things I did when I reached New York was to send a + little love-letter to Sylvia. I said nothing that would distress her; I + merely assured her that she was in my thoughts, and that I should look to + see her in New York, when we could have a good talk. I put this in a plain + envelope, with a typewritten address, and registered it in the name of my + stenographer. The receipt came back, signed by an unknown hand, probably + the secretary’s. I found out later that the letter never got to Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + No doubt it was the occasion of renewed efforts upon her husband’s part to + obtain from her the promise he desired. He would not be put off with + excuses; and at last he got her answer, in the shape of a letter which she + told him she intended to mail to me. In this letter she announced her + decision that she owed it to her baby to avoid all excitement and nervous + strain during the time that she was nursing it. Her husband had sent for + the yacht, and they were going to Scotland, and in the winter to the + Mediterranean and the Nile. Meantime she would not correspond with me; but + she wished me to know that there was to be no break in our friendship, and + that she would see me upon her return to New York. + </p> + <p> + “There is much that has happened that I do not understand,” she added. + “For the present, however, I shall try to dismiss it from my mind. I am + sure you will agree that it is right for me to give a year to being a + mother; as I wish you to feel perfectly at peace in the meantime, I + mention that it is my intention to be a mother only, and not a wife. I am + showing this letter to my husband before I mail it, so that he may know + exactly what I am doing, and what I have decided to do in the future.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said, after reading this, “you may send the letter, if you + insist—but you must realize that you are only putting off the + issue.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply; and at last he asked, “You mean you intend to defy me + in this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” she replied, quietly, “that for the sake of my baby I intend to + put off all discussion for a year.” + </p> + <p> + 7. I figured that I should hear from Claire Lepage about two days after I + reached New York; and sure enough, she called me on the ‘phone. “I want to + see you at once,” she declared; and her voice showed the excitement under + which she was labouring. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, “come down.” + </p> + <p> + She entered my little living-room. It was the first time she had ever + visited me, but she did not stop for a glance about her; she did not even + stop to sit down. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Sylvia Castleman?” + she cried. + </p> + <p> + “My dear woman,” I replied, “I was not under the least obligation to tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have betrayed me!” she exclaimed, wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Claire,” I said, after I had looked her in the eye a bit to calm + her. “You know quite well that I was under no bond of secrecy. And, + besides, I haven’t done you any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do it?” I regret to add that she swore. + </p> + <p> + “I never once mentioned your name, Claire.” + </p> + <p> + “How much good do you imagine that does me? They have managed to find out + everything. They caught me in a trap.” + </p> + <p> + I reminded myself that it would not do to show any pity for her. “Sit + down, Claire,” I said. “Tell me about it.” + </p> + <p> + She cried, in a last burst of anger, “I don’t want to talk to you!” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I answered. “But then, why did you come?” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply to that. She sat down. “They were too much for me!” she + lamented. “If I’d had the least hint, I might have held my own. As it was—I + let them make a fool of me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are talking hieroglyphics to me. Who are ‘they’?” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas, and that old fox, Rossiter Torrance.” + </p> + <p> + “Rossiter Torrance?” I repeated the name, and then suddenly remembered. + The thin-lipped old family lawyer! + </p> + <p> + “He sent up his card, and said he’d been sent to see me by Mary Abbot. Of + course, I had no suspicion—I fell right into the trap. We talked + about you for a while—he even got me to tell him where you lived; + and then at last he told me that he hadn’t come from you at all, but had + merely wanted to find out if I knew you, and how intimate we were. He had + been sent by Douglas; and he wanted to know right away how much I had told + you about Douglas, and why I had done it. Of course, I denied that I had + told anything. Heavens, what a time he gave me!” + </p> + <p> + Claire paused. “Mary, how could you have played such a trick upon me?” + </p> + <p> + “I had no thought of doing you any harm,” I replied. “I was simply trying + to help Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “To help her at any expense!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what will come of it? Are you afraid they’ll cut off your + allowance?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the threat.” + </p> + <p> + “But will they carry it out?” + </p> + <p> + She sat, gazing at me resentfully. “I don’t know whether I ought to trust + you any more,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do what you please about that,” I replied. “I don’t want to urge you.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a bit longer, and then decided to throw herself upon my + mercy. They would not dare to carry out their threat, so long as Sylvia + had not found out the whole truth. So now she had come to beg me to tell + no more than I had already told. She was utterly abject about it. I had + pretended to be her friend, I had won her confidence and listened to her + confessions; how did I wish to ruin her utterly, to have her cast out on + the street? + </p> + <p> + Poor Claire! I said in the early part of my story that she understood the + language of idealism; but I wonder what I have told about her that + justifies this. The truth is, she was going down so fast that already she + seemed a different person; and she had been frightened by the thin-lipped + old family lawyer, so that she was incapable of even a decent pretence. + </p> + <p> + “Claire,” I said, “there is no need for you to go on like this. I have not + the slightest intention of telling Sylvia about you. I cannot imagine the + circumstances that would make me want to tell her. Even if I should do it, + I would tell her in confidence, so that her husband would never have any + idea——” + </p> + <p> + She went almost wild at this. To imagine that a woman would keep such a + confidence! As if she would not throw it at her husband’s head the first + time they quarreled! Besides, if Sylvia knew this truth, she might leave + him; and if she left him, Claire’s hold on his money would be gone. + </p> + <p> + Over this money we had a long and lachrymose interview. And at the end of + it, there she sat gazing into space, baffled and bewildered. What kind of + a woman was I? How had I got to be the friend of Sylvia van Tuiver? What + had she seen in me, and what did I expect to get out of her? I answered + briefly; and suddenly Claire was overwhelmed by a rush of curiosity—plain + human curiosity. What was Sylvia like? Was she as clever as they said? + What was the baby like, and how was Sylvia taking the misfortune? Could it + really be true that I had been visiting the van Tuivers in Florida, as old + Rossiter Torrance had implied? + </p> + <p> + Needless to say, I did not answer these questions freely. And I really + think my visitor was more pained by my uncommunicativeness than she was by + my betrayal of her. It was interesting also to notice a subtle difference + in her treatment of me. Gone was the slight touch of condescension, gone + was most of the familiarity! I had become a personage, a treasurer of high + state secrets, an intimate of the great ones! There must be something more + to me than Claire had realized before! + </p> + <p> + Poor Claire! She passes here from this story. For years thereafter I used + to catch a glimpse of her now and then, in the haunts of the birds of + gorgeous plumage; but I never got a chance to speak to her, nor did she + ever call on me again. So I do not know if Douglas van Tuiver still + continues her eight thousand a year. All I can say is that when I saw her, + her plumage was as gorgeous as ever, and its style duly certified to the + world that it had not been held over from a previous season of prosperity. + Twice I thought she had been drinking too much; but then—so had many + of the other ladies with the little glasses of bright-coloured liquids + before them. + </p> + <p> + 8. For the rest of that year I knew nothing about Sylvia except what I + read in the “society” column of my newspaper—that she was spending + the late summer in her husband’s castle in Scotland. I myself was + suffering from the strain of what I had been through, and had to take a + vacation. I went West; and when I came back in the fall, to plunge again + into my work, I read that the van Tuivers, in their yacht, the “Triton,” + were in the Mediterranean, and were planning to spend the winter in Japan. + </p> + <p> + And then one day in January, like a bolt from the blue, came a cablegram + from Sylvia, dated Cairo: “Sailing for New York, Steamship ‘Atlantic,’ are + you there, answer.” + </p> + <p> + Of course I answered. And I consulted the sailing-lists, and waited, wild + with impatience. She sent me a wireless, two days out, and so I was at the + pier when the great vessel docked. Yes, there she was, waving her + handkerchief to me; and there by her side stood her husband. + </p> + <p> + It was a long, cold ordeal, while the ship was warped in. We could only + gaze at each other across the distance, and stamp our feet and beat our + hands. There were other friends waiting for the van Tuivers, I saw, and so + I held myself in the background, full of a thousand wild speculations. How + incredible that Sylvia, arriving with her husband, should have summoned me + to meet her! + </p> + <p> + At last the gangway was let down, and the stream of passengers began to + flow. In time came the van Tuivers, and their friends gathered to welcome + them. I waited; and at last Sylvia came to me—outwardly calm—but + with her emotions in the pressure of her two hands. “Oh, Mary, Mary!” she + murmured. “I’m so glad to see you! I’m so glad to see you!” + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + Her voice went to a whisper. “I am leaving my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving your husband!” I stood, dumbfounded. + </p> + <p> + “Leaving him for ever, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but——” I could not finish the sentence. My eyes + moved to where he stood, calmly chatting with his friends. + </p> + <p> + “He insisted on coming back with me, to preserve appearances. He is + terrified of the gossip. He is going all the way home, and then leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia! What does it mean?” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell you here. I want to come and see you. Are you living at the + same place?” + </p> + <p> + I answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a long story,” she added. “I must apologise for asking you to come + here, where we can’t talk. But I did it for an important reason. I can’t + make my husband really believe that I mean what I say; and you are my + Declaration of Independence!” And she laughed, but a trifle wildly, and + looking at her suddenly, I realized that she was keyed almost to the + breaking point. + </p> + <p> + “You poor dear!” I murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to show him that I meant what I said. I wanted him to see us + meet. You see, he’s going home, thinking that with the help of my people + he can make me change my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you go home? Why not stay here with me? There’s an apartment + vacant next to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “And with a baby?” + </p> + <p> + “There are lots of babies in our tenement,” I said. But to tell the truth, + I had almost forgotten the baby in the excitement of the moment. “How is + she,” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see,” said Sylvia; and when I glanced enquiringly at the tall + gentleman who was chatting with his friends, she added, “She’s <i>my</i> + baby, and I have a right to show her.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse, a rosy-cheeked English girl in a blue dress and a bonnet with + long streamers, stood apart, holding an armful of white silk and lace. + Sylvia turned back the coverings; and again I beheld the vision which had + so thrilled me—the comical little miniature of herself—her + nose, her lips, her golden hair. But oh, the pitiful little eyes, that did + not move! I looked at my friend, uncertain what I should say; I was + startled to see her whole being aglow with mother-pride. “Isn’t she a + dear?” she whispered. “And, Mary, she’s learning so fast, and growing—you + couldn’t believe it!” Oh, the marvel of mother-love, I thought—that + is blinder than any child it ever bore! + </p> + <p> + We turned away; and Sylvia said, “I’ll come to you as soon as I’ve got the + baby settled. Our train starts for the South to-night, so I shan’t waste + any time.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, dear,” I whispered; and she gave my hand a squeeze, and + turned away. I stood for a few moments watching, and saw her approach her + husband, and exchange a few smiling words with him in the presence of + their friends. I, knowing the agony that was in the hearts of that + desperate young couple, marvelled anew at the discipline of caste. + </p> + <p> + 9. She sat in my big arm-chair; and how proud I was of her, and how + thrilled by her courage. Above all, however, I was devoured by curiosity. + “Tell me!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “There’s so much,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me why you are leaving him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, because I don’t love him. That’s the one reason. I have thought it + out—I have thought of little else for the last year. I have come to + see that it is wrong for a woman to live with a man she does not love. It + is the supreme crime a woman can commit.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” I said. “If you have got that far!” + </p> + <p> + “I have got that far. Other things have contributed, but they are not the + real things—they might have been forgiven. The fact that he had this + disease, and made my child blind——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You found out that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “It came to me little by little. In the end, he grew tired of pretending, + I think.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “The trouble was over the + question of my obligations as a wife. You see, I had told him at the + outset that I was going to live for my baby, and for her alone. That was + the ground upon which he had persuaded me not to see you or read any of + your letters. I was to ask no questions, and be nice and bovine—and + I agreed. But then, a few months ago, my husband came to me with the story + of his needs. He said that the doctors had given their sanction to our + reunion. Of course, I was stunned. I knew that he had understood me before + we left Florida.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. “Yes, dear,” I said, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said now the doctors were agreed there was no danger to either + of us. We could take precautions and not have children. I could only plead + that the whole subject was distressing to me. He had asked me to put off + my problems till my baby was weaned; now I asked him to put off his. But + that would not do, it seemed. He took to arguing with me. It was an + unnatural way to live, and he could not endure it. I was a woman, and I + couldn’t understand this. It seemed utterly impossible to make him realize + what I felt. I suppose he has always had what he wanted, and he simply + does not know what it is to be denied. It wasn’t only a physical thing, I + think; it was an affront to his pride, a denial of his authority.” She + stopped, and I saw her shudder. + </p> + <p> + “I have been through it all,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted to know how long I expected to withhold myself. I said, ‘Until + I have got this disease out of my mind, as well as out of my body; until I + know that there is no possibility of either of us having it, to give to + the other.’ But then, after I had taken a little more time to think it + over, I said, ‘Douglas, I must be honest with you. I shall never be able + to live with you again. It is no longer a question of your wishes or mine—it + is a question of right or wrong. I do not love you. I know now that it can + never under any circumstances be right for a woman to give herself in the + intimacy of the sex-relation without love. When she does it, she is + violating the deepest instinct of her nature, the very voice of God in her + soul.’ + </p> + <p> + “His reply was, ‘Why didn’t you know that before you married?’ + </p> + <p> + “I answered, ‘I did not know what marriage meant; and I let myself be + persuaded by others.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘By your own mother!’ he declared. + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘A mother who permits her daughter to commit such an offence is + either a slave-dealer, or else a slave.’ Of course, he thought I was out + of my mind at that. He argued about the duties of marriage, the preserving + of the home, wives submitting themselves to their husbands, and so on. He + would not give me any peace——” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly she started up. I saw in her eyes the light of old battles. + “Oh, it was a horror!” she cried, beginning to pace the floor. “It seemed + to me that I was living the agony of all the loveless marriages of the + world. I felt myself pursued, not merely by the importunate desires of one + man—I suffered with all the millions of women who give themselves + night after night without love! He came to seem like some monster to me; I + could not meet him unexpectedly without starting. I forbade him to mention + the subject to me again, and for a long time he obeyed. But several weeks + ago he brought it up afresh, and I lost my self-control completely. + ‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘I can stand it no longer! It is not only the tragedy + of my blind child—it’s that you have driven me to hate you. You have + crushed all the life and joy and youth out of me! You’ve been to me like a + terrible black cloud, constantly pressing down on me, smothering me. You + stalk around me like a grim, sepulchral figure, closing me up in the + circle of your narrow ideas. But now I can endure it no longer. I was a + proud, high-spirited girl, you’ve made of me a colourless social + automaton, a slave of your stupid worldly traditions. I’m turning into a + feeble, complaining, discontented wife! And I refuse to be it. I’m going + home—where at least there’s some human spontaneity left in people; + I’m going back to my father!’—And I went and looked up the next + steamer!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. She stood before me, with the fire of her wild Southern blood + shining in her cheeks and in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + I sat waiting, and finally she went on, “I won’t repeat all his protests. + When he found that I was really going, he offered to take me in the yacht, + but I wouldn’t go in the yacht. I had got to be really afraid of him—sometimes, + you know, his obstinacy seems to be abnormal, almost insane. So then he + decided he would have to go in the steamer with me to preserve + appearances. I had a letter saying that papa was not well, and he said + that would serve for an excuse. He is going to Castleman County, and after + he has stayed a week or so, he is going off on a hunting-trip, and not + return.” + </p> + <p> + “And will he do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he expects to do it at present. I feel sure he has the idea + of starting mamma to quoting the Bible to me, and dragging me down with + her tears. But I have done all I can to make clear to him that it will + make no difference. I told him I would not say a word about my intentions + at home until he had gone away, and that I expected the same silence from + him. But, of course—” She stopped abruptly, and after a moment she + asked: “What do you think of it, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + I leaned forward and took her two hands in mine. “Only,” I said, “that I’m + glad you fought it out alone! I knew it had to come—and I didn’t + want to have to help you to decide!” + </p> + <p> + 10. She sat for a while absorbed in her own thoughts. Knowing her as I + did, I understood what intense emotions were seething within her, what a + terrific struggle her decision must have represented. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Friend,” she said, suddenly, “don’t think I haven’t seen his side of + the case. I try to tell myself that I dealt with him frankly from the + beginning. But then I ask was there ever a man I dealt with frankly? There + was coquetry in the very clothes I wore! And now that we are so entangled, + now that he loves me, what is my duty? I find I can’t respect his love for + me. A part of it is because my beauty fascinates him, but more of it seems + to me just wounded vanity. I was the only woman who ever flouted him, and + he has a kind of snobbery that made him think I must be something + remarkable because of it. I talked that all out with him—yes, I’ve + dragged him through all that humiliation. I wanted to make him see that he + didn’t really love me, that he only wanted to conquer me, to force me to + admire him and submit to him. I want to be myself, and he wants to be + himself—that has always been the issue between us.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the issue in many unhappy marriages,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last year,” she resumed—“about + things generally, I mean. We American women think we are so free. That is + because our husbands indulge us, give us money, and let us run about. But + when it comes to real freedom—freedom of intellect and of character, + English women are simply another kind of being from us. I met a cabinet + minister’s wife—he’s a Conservative in everything, and she’s an + ardent suffragist; she not merely gives money, she makes speeches and has + a public name. Yet they are friends, and have a happy home-life. Do you + suppose my husband would consider such an arrangement?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he admired English ways,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “There was the Honorable Betty Annersley—the sister of a chum of + his. She was friendly with the militants, and I wanted to talk to her to + understand what such women thought. Yet my husband tried to stop me from + going to see her. And it’s the same way with everything I try to do, that + threatens to take me out of his power. He wanted me to accept the + authority of the doctors as to any possible danger from venereal disease. + When I got the books, and showed him what the doctors admitted about the + question—the narrow margin of safety they allowed, the terrible + chances they took—he was angry again.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, seeing a question in my eyes. “I’ve been reading up on the + subject,” she explained. “I know it all now—the things I should have + known before I married.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage that?” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to get two of the doctors to give me something to read, but they + wouldn’t hear of it. I’d set myself crazy imagining things, it was no sort + of stuff for a woman’s mind. So in the end I took the bit in my teeth. I + found a medical book store, and I went in and said: ‘I am an American + physician, and I want to see the latest works on venereal disease.’ So the + clerk took me to the shelves, and I picked out a couple of volumes.” + </p> + <p> + “You poor child!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “When Douglas found that I was reading these books he threatened to burn + them. I told him ‘There are more copies in the store, and I am determined + to be educated on this subject.’” + </p> + <p> + She paused. “How much like my own experience!” I thought. + </p> + <p> + “There were chapters on the subject of wives, how much they were not told, + and why this was. So very quickly I began to see around my own experience. + Douglas must have figured out that this would be so, for the end of the + matter was an admission.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean he confessed to you!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled bitterly. “No,” she said. “He brought Dr. Perrin to London to + do it for him. Dr. Perrin said he had concluded I had best know that my + husband had had some symptoms of the disease. He, the doctor, wished to + tell me who was to blame for the attempt to deceive me. Douglas had been + willing to admit the truth, but all the doctors had forbidden it. I must + realise the fearful problem they had, and not blame them, and, above all I + must not blame my husband, who had been in their hands in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “How stupid men are! As if that would excuse him!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I showed the little man how poor an impression he had made—both + for himself and for his patron. But I had suffered all there was to + suffer, and I was tired of pretending. I told him it would have been far + better for them if they had told me the truth at the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” I said. “That is what I tried to make them see; but all I got + for it was a sentence of deportation!” + </p> + <p> + 11. When Sylvia’s train arrived at the station of her home town, the whole + family was waiting upon the platform for her, and a good part of the town + besides. The news that she had arrived in New York, and was coming home on + account of her father’s illness, had, of course, been reproduced in all + the local papers, with the result that the worthy major had been deluged + with telegrams and letters concerning his health. Notwithstanding, he had + insisted upon coming to the train to meet his daughter. He was not going + to be shut up in a sickroom to please all the gossips of two hemispheres. + In his best black broad-cloth, his broad, black hat newly brushed, and his + old-fashioned, square-toed shoes newly shined, he paced up and down the + station platform for half an hour, and it was to his arms that Sylvia flew + when she alighted from the train. + </p> + <p> + There was “Miss Margaret,” who had squeezed her large person and + fluttering draperies out of the family automobile, and was waiting to shed + tears over her favourite daughter; there was Celeste, radiant with a + wonderful piece of news which she alone was to impart to her sister; there + were Peggy and Maria, shot up suddenly into two amazingly-gawky girls; + there was Master Castleman Lysle, the only son of the house, with his + black-eyed and bad-tempered French governess. And finally there was Aunt + Varina, palpitating with various agitations, not daring to whisper to + anyone else the fears which this sudden home-coming inspired in her. + Bishop Chilton and his wife were away, but a delegation of cousins had + come; also Uncle Mandeville Castleman had sent a huge bunch of roses, + which were in the family automobile, and Uncle Barry Chilton had sent a + pair of wild turkeys, which were soon to be in the family. + </p> + <p> + Behind Sylvia stalked her cold and haughty husband, and behind him tripped + the wonderful nursemaid, with her wonderful blue streamers, and her + wonderful bundle of ruffles and lace. All the huge family had to fall upon + Sylvia and kiss and embrace her rapturously, and shake the hand of the + cold and haughty husband, and peer into the wonderful bundle, and go into + ecstasies over its contents. Rarely, indeed, did the great ones of this + earth condescend to spread so much of their emotional life before the + public gaze; and was it any wonder that the town crowded about, and the + proprieties were temporarily repealed? + </p> + <p> + It had never been published, but it was generally known throughout the + State that Sylvia’s child was blind, and it was whispered that this + portended something strange and awful. So there hung about the young + mother and the precious bundle an atmosphere of mystery and melancholy. + How had she taken her misfortune? How had she taken all the great events + that had befallen her—her progress through the courts and camps of + Europe? Would she still condescend to know her fellow-townsmen? Many were + the hearts that beat high as she bestowed her largess of smiles and + friendly words. There were even humble old negroes who went off enraptured + to tell the town that “Mi’ Sylvia” had actually shaken hands with them. + There was almost a cheer from the crowd as the string of automobiles set + out for Castleman Hall. + </p> + <p> + 12. There was a grand banquet that evening, at which the turkeys entered + the family. Not in years had there been so many people crowded into the + big dining-room, nor so many servants treading upon each other’s toes in + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Such a din of chatter and laughter! Sylvia was her old radiant self, and + her husband was quite evidently charmed by the patriarchal scene. He was + affable, really genial, and won the hearts of everybody; he told the good + major, amid a hush which almost turned his words into a speech, that he + was able to understand how they of the South loved their own section so + passionately; there was about the life an intangible something—a + spell, an elevation of spirit, which set it quite apart by itself. And + since this was the thing which they of the South most delighted to believe + concerning themselves, they listened enraptured, and set the speaker apart + as a rare and discerning spirit. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards came the voice of Sylvia: “You must beware of Douglas, Papa; he + is an inveterate flatterer.” She laughed as she said it; and of those + present it was Aunt Varina alone who caught the ominous note, and saw the + bitter curl of her lips as she spoke. Aunt Varina and her niece were the + only persons there who knew Douglas van Tuiver well enough to appreciate + the irony of the term “inveterate flatterer.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia realized at once that her husband was setting out upon a campaign + to win her family to his side. He rode about the major’s plantations, + absorbing information about the bollweevil. He rode back to the house, and + exchanged cigars, and listened to stories of the major’s boyhood during + the war. He went to call upon Bishop Chilton, and sat in his study, with + its walls of faded black volumes on theology. Van Tuiver himself had had a + Church of England tutor, and was a punctilious high churchman; but he + listened respectfully to arguments for a simpler form of church + organization, and took away a voluminous <i>exposé</i> of the fallacies of + “Apostolic Succession.” And then came Aunt Nannie, ambitious and alert as + when she had helped the young millionaire to find a wife; and the young + millionaire made the suggestion that Aunt Nannie’s third daughter should + not fail to visit Sylvia at Newport. + </p> + <p> + There was no limit, apparently, to what he would do. He took Master + Castleman Lysle upon his knee, and let him drop a valuable watch upon the + floor. He got up early in the morning and went horse-back riding with + Peggy and Maria. He took Celeste automobiling, and helped by his + attentions to impress the cocksure young man with whom Celeste was in + love. He won “Miss Margaret” by these attentions to all her children, and + the patience with which he listened to accounts of the ailments which had + afflicted the precious ones at various periods of their lives. To Sylvia, + watching all these proceedings, it was as if he were binding himself to + her with so many knots. + </p> + <p> + She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone. But + this could not be, she discovered. There was gossip about the child’s + blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into hiding + would have meant an admission of the worst. The ladies of the family had + prepared a grand “reception,” at which all Castleman County was to come + and gaze upon the happy mother. And then there was the monthly dance at + the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the hope of seeing the + royal pair. To Sylvia it was as if her mother and aunts were behind her + every minute of the day, pushing her out into the world. “Go on, go on! + Show yourself! Do not let people begin to talk!” + </p> + <p> + 13. She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, Harley + Chilton. “Harley,” she said, “my husband is anxious to go on a + hunting-trip. Will you go with him?” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Right away; to-morrow or the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m game,” said Harley. + </p> + <p> + After which she went to her husband. “Douglas, it is time for you to go.” + </p> + <p> + He sat studying her face. “You still have that idea?” he said, at last. + </p> + <p> + “I still have it.” + </p> + <p> + “I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would + partially return.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you have been hoping, Douglas. And I am sorry—but I am + quite unchanged.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we not been getting along happily here?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not—I have been wretched. And I cannot have any peace + until you no longer haunt me. I am sorry for you, but I must be alone—and + so long as you are here the entertainments will continue.” + </p> + <p> + “We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments. We could + find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she said, “I have spoken to Cousin Harley. He is ready to go + hunting with you. Please call him up and make arrangements to start + to-morrow. If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for one + of Uncle Mandeville’s plantations.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. “Sylvia,” he said, at last, “how long do you + imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?” + </p> + <p> + “It will continue forever. My mind is made up. It is necessary that you + make up yours.” + </p> + <p> + Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control. “You propose to + keep the baby with you?” he asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + “For the present, yes. The baby cannot get along without me.” + </p> + <p> + “And for the future?” + </p> + <p> + “We will make a fair arrangement as to that. Give me a little time to get + myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in New + York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often as you + please. I have no desire to take her from you—I only want to take + myself from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” he said, “have you realized all the unhappiness this course of + yours is going to bring to your people?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t begin that now!” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said, “how determined you are to punish me. But I should + think you would try to find some way to spare them.” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she replied, “I know exactly what you have been doing. I have + watched your change of character since you came here. You may be able to + make my people so unhappy that I must be unhappy also. You see how deeply + I love them, how I yield everything for love of them. But let me make it + clear, I will not yield this. It was for their sake I went into this + marriage, but I have come to see that it was wrong, and no power on earth + can induce me to stay in it. My mind is made up—I will not live with + a man I do not love. I will not even pretend to do it. Now do you + understand me, Douglas?” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, while she waited for some word from him. When none + came, she asked, “You will arrange to go to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + He answered calmly, “I see no reason why I, your husband, should permit + you to pursue this insane course. You propose to leave me; and the reason + you give is one that would, if it were valid, break up two-thirds of the + homes in the country. Your own family will stand by me in my effort to + prevent your ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect to do?” she asked in a suppressed voice. + </p> + <p> + “I have to assume that my wife is insane; and I shall look after her till + she comes to her senses.” + </p> + <p> + She sat watching him for a few moments, wondering at him. Then she said, + “You are willing to stay on here, day after day, pursuing me in the only + refuge I have. Well then, I shall not consider your feelings. I have a + work to do here—and I think that when I begin it, you will want to + be far away.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked—and he looked at her as if she were + really a maniac. + </p> + <p> + “You see my sister Celeste is about to marry. That was the wonderful news + she had to tell me at the depot. It happens that I have known Roger Peyton + all my life, and know he has the reputation of being one of the ‘fastest’ + boys in the town.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just this, Douglas—I do not intend to leave my sister unprotected + as I was. I am going to tell her about Elaine. I am going to tell her all + that she needs to know. It is bound to mean arguments with the old people, + and in the end the whole family will be discussing the subject. I feel + sure you will not care to be here under such circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask when this begins?” he inquired, with intense bitterness in + his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Right away,” she said. “I have merely been waiting until you should go.” + </p> + <p> + He said not a word, but she knew by the expression on his face that she + had carried her point at last. He turned and left the room; and that was + the last word she had with him, save for their formal parting in the + presence of the family. + </p> + <p> + 14. Roger Peyton was the son and heir of one of the oldest families in + Castleman County. I had heard of this family before—in a wonderful + story that Sylvia told of the burning of “Rose Briar,” their stately + mansion, some years previously: how the neighbours had turned out to + extinguish the flames, and failing, had danced a last whirl in the + ball-room, while the fire roared in the stories overhead. The house had + since been rebuilt, more splendid than ever, and the prestige of the + family stood undiminished. One of the sons was an old “flame” of Sylvia’s, + and another was married to one of the Chilton girls. As for Celeste, she + had been angling for Roger the past year or two, and she stood now at the + apex of happiness. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia went to her father, to talk with him about the difficult subject of + venereal disease. The poor major had never expected to live to hear such a + discourse from a daughter of his; however, with the blind child under his + roof, he could not find words to stop her. “But, Sylvia,” he protested, + “what reason have you to suspect such a thing of Roger Peyton?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the reason of his life. You know that he has the reputation of + being ‘fast’; you know that he drinks, you know that I once refused to + speak to him because he danced with me when he was drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “My child, all the men you know have sowed their wild oats.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you must not take advantage of me in such a discussion. I don’t + claim to know what sins may be included in the phrase ‘wild oats.’ Let us + speak frankly—can you say that you think it unlikely that Roger + Peyton has been unchaste?” + </p> + <p> + The major hesitated and coughed; finally he said: “The boy drinks, Sylvia; + further than that I have no knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “The medical books tell me that the use of alcohol tends to break down + self-control, and to make continence impossible. And if that be true, you + must admit that we have a right to ask assurances. What do you suppose + that Roger and his crowd are doing when they go roistering about the + streets at night? What do they do when they go off to Mardi Gras? Or at + college—you know that Cousin Clive had to get him out of trouble + several times. Go and ask Clive if Roger has ever been exposed to the + possibility of these diseases.” + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said the major, “Clive would not feel he had the right to tell + me such things about his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even when the friend wants to marry his cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “But such questions are not asked, my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, I have thought this matter out carefully, and I hava something + definite to propose to you. I have no idea of stopping with what Clive + Chilton may or may not see fit to tell about his chum. I want <i>you</i> + to go to Roger.” + </p> + <p> + Major Castleman’s face wore a blank stare. + </p> + <p> + “If he’s going to marry your daughter, you have the right to ask about his + past. What I want you to tell him is that you will get the name of a + reputable specialist in these diseases, and that before he can have your + daughter he must present you with a letter from this man, to the effect + that he is fit to marry.” + </p> + <p> + The poor major was all but speechless. “My child, who ever heard of such a + proposition?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that any one ever did, papa. But it seems to me time they + should begin to hear of it; and I don’t see who can have a better right to + take the first step than you and I, who have paid such a dreadful price + for our neglect.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia had been prepared for opposition—the instinctive opposition + which men manifest to having this embarrassing subject dragged out into + the light of day. Even men who have been chaste themselves—good + fathers of families like the major—cannot be unaware of the + complications incidental to frightening their women-folk, and setting up + an impossibly high standard in sons-in-law. But Sylvia stood by her guns; + at last she brought her father to his knees by the threat that if he could + not bring himself to talk with Roger Peyton, she, Sylvia Castleman, would + do it. + </p> + <p> + 15. The young suitor came by appointment the next day, and had a session + with the Major in his office. After he had gone, Sylvia went to her father + and found him pacing the floor, with an extinct cigar between his lips, + and several other ruined cigars lying on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “You asked him, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, daughter——” The major flung his cigar from him with + desperate energy. “It was most embarrassing!” he exclaimed—“most + painful!” His pale old face was crimson with blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, papa,” said Sylvia, gentle but firm. + </p> + <p> + “The poor boy—naturally, Sylvia, he could not but feel hurt that I + should think it necessary to ask such questions. Such things are not done, + my child. It seemed to him that I must look upon him as—well, as + much worse than other young fellows——” + </p> + <p> + The old man stopped, and began to walk restlessly up and down. “Yes, + papa,” said Sylvia. “What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said it seemed to him that such a matter might have been left to + the honour of a man whom I was willing to think of as a son-in-law. And + you see, my child, what an embarrassing position I was in; I could not + give him any hint as to my reason for being anxious about these matters—anything, + you understand, that might be to the discredit of your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I gave him a fatherly talking to about his way of life.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ask him the definite question as to his health?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you anything definite?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn’t do what you had set out to do!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. I told him that he must see a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “You made quite clear to him what you wanted?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did—really, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” She went to him and took his arm and led him to a + couch. “Come, papa, let us get to the facts. You must tell me.” They sat + down, and the major sighed, lit a fresh cigar, rolled it about in his + fingers until it was ruined, and then flung it away. + </p> + <p> + “Boys don’t talk freely to older men,” he said. “They really never do. You + may doubt this——” + </p> + <p> + “What did he <i>say,</i> papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really say anything.” And here + the major came to a complete halt. + </p> + <p> + His daughter, after studying his face for a minute, remarked, “In plain + words, papa, you think he has something to hide, and he may not be able to + give you the evidence you asked?” + </p> + <p> + The other was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You fear that is the situation, but you are trying not to believe it.” As + he still said nothing, Sylvia whispered, “Poor Celeste!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she put her hands upon his shoulders, and looked into his eye. + “Papa, can’t you see what that means—that Celeste ought to have been + told these things long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “What good would that have done?” he asked, in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “She could have known what kind of man she was choosing; and she might be + spared the dreadful unhappiness that is before her now.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia! Sylvia!” protested the other. “Surely such things cannot be + discussed with innocent young girls!” + </p> + <p> + “So long as we refuse to do it, we are simply entering into a conspiracy + with the man of loose life, so that he may escape the worst penalty of his + evil-doing. Take the boys in our own set—why is it they feel safe in + running off to the big cities and ‘sowing their wild oats’—even + sowing them in the obscure parts of their own town? Is it not because they + know that their sisters and girl friends are ignorant and helpless; so + that when they are ready to pick a wife, they will be at no disadvantage? + Here is Celeste; she knows that Roger has been ‘wild,’ but no one has + hinted to her what that means; she thinks of things that are picturesque—that + he’s high-spirited, and brave, and free with his money.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my daughter,” protested the major, “such knowledge would have a + terrible effect upon young girls!” He rose and began to pace the floor + again. “Daughter, you are letting yourself run wild! The sweetness, the + virginal innocence of young and pure women—if you take that from + them, there’d be nothing left to keep men from falling to the level of + brutes!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Sylvia, “all that sounds well, but it has no meaning. I have + been robbed of my ‘innocence,’ and I know that it has not debased me. It + has only fitted me to deal with the realities of life. And it will do the + same for any girl who is taught by earnest and reverent people. Now, as it + is, we have to tell Celeste, but we tell her too late.” + </p> + <p> + “But we <i>won’t</i> have to tell her!” cried the major. + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa, please explain how we can avoid telling her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will inform her that she must give the young man up. She is a good and + dutiful daughter——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Sylvia, “but suppose on this one occasion she were to fail + to be good and dutiful? Suppose the next day you learn that she had run + away and married Roger—what would you do about it then?” + </p> + <p> + 16. That evening Roger was to take his <i>fiancée</i> to one of the young + people’s dances. And there was Celeste, in a flaming red dress, with a + great bunch of flaming roses; she could wear these colours, with her + brilliant black hair and gorgeous complexion. Roger was fair, with a + frank, boyish face, and they made a pretty couple; but that evening Roger + did not come. Sylvia helped to dress her sister, and then watched her + wandering restlessly about the hall, while the hour came and went. Later + in the evening Major Castleman called up the Peyton home. The boy was not + there, and no one seemed to know where he was. + </p> + <p> + Nor the next day did there come any explanation. At the Peytons it was + still declared that no one had heard from Roger, and for another day the + mystery continued, to Celeste’s distress and mortification. At last, from + Clive Chilton, Sylvia managed to extract the truth. Roger was drunk—crazy + drunk, and had been taken off by some of the boys to be straightened out. + </p> + <p> + Of course this rumour soon got to the rest of the family and they had to + tell Celeste, because she was frantic with anxiety. There were grave + consultations among the Castleman ladies. It was a wanton affront to his + <i>fiancée</i> that the boy had committed, and something must be done + about it quickly. Then came the news that Roger had escaped from his + warders, and got drunker than ever; he had been out at night, smashing the + street lamps, and it had required extreme self-control on the part of the + town police force to avoid complications. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Margaret” went to her young daughter, and in a tear-flooded scene + informed her of the opinion of the family, that her self-respect required + the breaking of the engagement. Celeste went into hysterics. She would <i>not</i> + have her happiness ruined for life! Roger was “wild,” but so were all the + other boys—and he would atone for his recklessness. She had the idea + that if only she could get hold of him, she could recall him to his + senses; the more her mother was scandalised by this proposal, the more + frantically Celeste wept. She shut herself up in her room, refusing to + appear at meals, and spending her time pacing the floor and wringing her + hands. + </p> + <p> + The family had been through all this with their eldest daughter several + years before, but they had not learned to handle it any better. The whole + household was in a state of distraction, and the conditions grew worse day + by day, as bulletins came in concerning the young man. He seemed to have + gone actually insane. He was not to be restrained even by his own father, + and if the unfortunate policemen could be believed, he had violently + attacked them. Apparently he was trying to break down the unwritten law + that the sons of the “best families” are not arrested. + </p> + <p> + Poor Celeste, with pale, tear-drenched face, sent for her elder sister, to + make one last appeal. Could Sylvia not somehow get hold of Roger and bring + him to his senses? Could she not interview some of the other boys, and + find out what he meant by his conduct? + </p> + <p> + So Sylvia went to her cousin Clive, and had a talk with him—assuredly + the most remarkable talk that that young man had ever had in his life. She + told him that she wanted to know the truth about Roger Peyton, and after a + cross-examination that would have made the reputation of a criminal + lawyer, she got what she wanted. All the young men in town, it seemed, + knew the true state of affairs, and were in a panic concerning it; that + Major Castleman had sent for Roger and informed him that he could not + marry his daughter, until he produced a certain kind of medical + certificate. No, he couldn’t produce it! Was there a fellow in town who + could produce it? What was there for him to do but to get drunk and stay + drunk, until Celeste had cast him off? + </p> + <p> + It was Clive’s turn then to do some plain speaking. “Look here, Sylvia,” + he said, “since you have made me talk about this——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Clive?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what people are saying—I mean the reason the Major made + this proposition to Roger?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, in a quiet voice: “I suppose, Clive, it has something to do + with Elaine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, exactly!” exclaimed Clive. “They say—” But then he stopped. He + could not repeat it. “Surely you don’t want that kind of talk, Sylvia?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, Clive, I’d prefer to escape that kind of talk, but my fear of + it will not make me neglect the protection of my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “But Sylvia,” cried the boy, “you don’t understand about this! A woman <i>can’t</i> + understand about these things——” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, my dear cousin,” said Sylvia—and her voice was + firm and decisive. “I <i>do</i> understand.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” cried Clive, with sudden exasperation. “But let me tell you + this—Celeste is going to have a hard time getting any other man to + propose to her!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, Clive, because so many of them are——?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you must put it that way,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, then Sylvia went on: “Let us discuss the practical + problem, Clive. Don’t you think it would have been better if Roger, + instead of going off and getting drunk, had set about getting himself + cured?” + </p> + <p> + The other looked at her, with evident surprise. “You mean in that case + Celeste might marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “You say the boys are all alike, Clive; and we can’t turn our girls into + nuns. Why didn’t some of you fellows point that out to Roger?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is,” said Clive, “we tried to.” There was a little more + cordiality in his manner, since Sylvia had shown such a unexpected amount + of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked. “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he wouldn’t listen to anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—because he was drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we had him nearly sober. But you see—” And Clive paused for a + moment, painfully embarrassed. “The truth is, Roger had been to a doctor, + and been told it might take him a year or two to get cured.” + </p> + <p> + “Clive!” she cried. “Clive! And you mean that in the face of that, he + proposed to go on and marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sylvia, you see—” And the young man hesitated still longer. + He was crimson with embarrassment, and suddenly he blurted out: “The truth + is, the doctor told him to marry. That was the only way he’d ever get + cured.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia was almost speechless. “Oh! Oh!” she cried, “I can’t believe you!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what the doctors tell you, Sylvia. You don’t understand—it’s + just as I told you, a woman can’t understand. It’s a question of a man’s + nature——” + </p> + <p> + “But Clive—what about the wife and her health? Has the wife no + rights whatever?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, Sylvia, people don’t take this disease with such desperate + seriousness. You understand, it isn’t the one that everybody knows is + dangerous. It doesn’t do any real harm——” + </p> + <p> + “Look at Elaine! Don’t you call that real harm?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that doesn’t happen often, and they say there are ways it can be + prevented. Anyway, fellows just can’t help it! God knows we’d help it if + we could.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia thought for a moment, and then came back to the immediate question. + “It’s evident what Roger could do in this case. He is young, and Celeste + is still younger. They might wait a couple of years and Roger might take + care of himself, and in time it might be properly arranged.” + </p> + <p> + But Clive did not seem too warm to the proposition, and Sylvia, who knew + Roger Peyton, was not long in making out the reason. “You mean you don’t + think he has character enough to keep straight for a year or two?” + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the honest truth, we talked it out with him, and he wouldn’t + make any promises.” + </p> + <p> + To which Sylvia answered: “Very well, Clive—that settles it. You can + help me find some man for Celeste who loves her a little more than that!” + </p> + <p> + 17. That afternoon came Aunt Nannie, the Bishop’s wife, in shining + chestnut-coloured silk to match a pair of shining chestnut-coloured + horses. Other people, it appeared, had been making inquiries into Roger + Peyton’s story, and other people besides Clive Chilton had been telling + the truth. Aunt Nannie gathered the ladies of the family in a hurried + conference, and Sylvia was summoned to appear before it—quite as in + the days of her affair with Frank Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Margaret” and Aunt Varina were solemn and frightened, as of old; + and, as of old, Aunt Nannie did the talking. “Sylvia, do you know what + people are saying about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Nannie” said Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course. And I knew in advance that they would say it.” + </p> + <p> + Something about the seraphic face of Sylvia, chastened by terrible + suffering, must have suggested to Mrs. Chilton the idea of caution. “Have + you thought of the humiliation this must inflict upon your relatives?” + </p> + <p> + “I have found, Aunt Nannie,” said Sylvia, “that there are worse + afflictions than being talked about.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” declared the other, “that anything could be worse than to + be the object of the kind of gossip that is now seething around our + family. It has been the tradition of our people to bear their afflictions + in silence.” + </p> + <p> + “In this case, Aunt Nannie, it is obvious that silence would have meant + more afflictions, many more. I have thought of my sister—and of all + the other girls in our family, who may be led to sacrifice by the + ambitions of their relatives.” Sylvia paused a moment, so that her words + might have effect. + </p> + <p> + Said the bishop’s wife: “Sylvia, we cannot undertake to save the world + from the results of its sins. God has his own ways of punishing men.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so, but surely God does not wish the punishment to fall upon + innocent young girls. For instance, Aunt Nannie, think of your own + daughters——” + </p> + <p> + “My daughters!” broke out Mrs. Chilton. And then, mastering her + excitement: “At least, you will permit me to look after my own children.” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich + came into the room last night. Have you noticed anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she not? I certainly consider him an eligible man.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton’s set. You + know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, and + you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him! You have taken no steps + to find out about him—you have not warned your daughter—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation. “Warned my daughter! Who ever + heard of such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + Said Sylvia, quietly: “I can believe that you never heard of it—but + you will hear soon. The other day I had a talk with Lucy May—” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Castleman!” And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself that + she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic. “Sylvia,” she said, in a + suppressed voice, “you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my + young daughter’s mind—” + </p> + <p> + “You have brought her up well,” said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for lack + of words. “She did not want to listen to me. She said that young girls + ought not to know about such matters. But I pointed out Elaine, and then + she changed her mind—just as you will have to change yours in the + end, Aunt Nannie.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving. Then suddenly + she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman. “Margaret, cannot you + stop this shocking business? I demand that the tongues of gossip shall no + longer clatter around the family of which I am a member! My husband is the + bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name is of no + importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and authority + of the church may have some weight——” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Nannie,” interrupted Sylvia, “it will do no good to drag Uncle Basil + into this matter. I fear you will have to face the fact that from this + time on your authority in our family is to be diminished. You had more to + do than any other person with driving me into the marriage that has + wrecked my life, and now you want to go on and do the same thing for my + sister and for your own daughters—to marry them with no thought of + anything save the social position of the man. And in the same way you are + saving up your sons to find rich girls. You know that you kept Clive from + marrying a poor girl in this town a couple of years ago—and meantime + it seems to be nothing to you that he’s going with men like Roger Peyton + and Tom Aldrich, learning all the vices the women in the brothels have to + teach him——” + </p> + <p> + Poor “Miss Margaret” had several times made futile efforts to check her + daughter’s outburst. Now she and Aunt Varina started up at the same time. + “Sylvia! Sylvia! You must not talk like that to your aunt!” + </p> + <p> + And Sylvia turned and gazed at them with her sad eyes. “From now on,” she + said, “that is the way I am going to talk. You are a lot of ignorant + children. I was one too, but now I know. And I say to you: Look at Elaine! + Look at my little one, and see what the worship of Mammon has done to one + of the daughters of your family!” + </p> + <p> + 18. After this, Sylvia had her people reduced to a state of terror. She + was an avenging angel, sent by the Lord to punish them for their sins. How + could one rebuke the unconventionality of an avenging angel? On the other + hand, of course, one could not help being in agony, and letting the angel + see it in one’s face. Outside, there were the tongues of gossip + clattering, as Aunt Nannie had said; quite literally everyone in Castleman + County was talking about the blindness of Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver’s baby, + and how, because of it, the mother was setting out on a campaign to + destroy the modesty of the State. The excitement, the curiosity, the + obscene delight of the world came rolling back into Castleman Hall in + great waves, that picked up the unfortunate inmates and buffeted them + about. + </p> + <p> + Family consultations were restricted, because it was impossible for the + ladies of the family to talk to the gentlemen about these horrible things; + but the ladies talked to the ladies, and the gentlemen talked to the + gentlemen, and each came separately to Sylvia with their distress. Poor, + helpless “Miss Margaret” would come wringing her hands, and looking as if + she had buried all her children. “Sylvia! Sylvia! Do you realise that you + are being DISCUSSED?” That was the worst calamity that could befal a woman + in Castleman County—it summed up all possible calamities that could + befal her—to be “discussed.” “They were discussing you once when you + wanted to marry Frank Shirley! And now—oh, now they will never stop + discussing you!” + </p> + <p> + Then would come the dear major. He loved his eldest daughter as he loved + nothing else in the world, and he was a just man at heart. He could not + meet her arguments—yes, she was right, she was right. But then he + would go away, and the waves of scandal and shame would come rolling. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he pleaded, “have you thought what this thing is doing to your + husband? Do you realise that while you talk about protecting other people, + you are putting upon Douglas a brand that will follow him through life?” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Mandeville came up from New Orleans to see his favourite niece; and + the wave smote him as he alighted from the train, and he became so much + excited that he went to the club and got drunk, and then could not see his + niece, but had to be carried off upstairs and given forcible hypodermics. + Cousin Clive told Sylvia about it afterwards—how Uncle Mandeville + refused to believe the truth, and swore that he would shoot some of these + fellows if they didn’t stop talking about his niece. Said Clive, with a + grim laugh: “I told him: ‘If Sylvia had her way, you’d shoot a good part + of the men in the town.’” He answered: “Well, by God, I’ll do it—it + would serve the scoundrels right!” And he tried to get out of bed and get + his pants and his pistols—so that in the end it was necessary to + telephone for the major, and then for Barry Chilton and two of his + gigantic sons from their plantation. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia had her way, and talked things out with the agonised Celeste. And + the next day came Aunt Varina, hardly able to contain herself. “Oh, + Sylvia, such a horrible thing! To hear such words coming from your little + sister’s lips—like the toads and snakes in the fairy story! To think + of these ideas festering in a young girl’s brain!” And then again: + “Sylvia, your sister declares she will never go to a party again! You are + teaching her to hate men! You will make her a STRONG-MINDED woman!”—that + was another phrase they had summing up a whole universe of horrors. Sylvia + could not recall a time when she had not heard that warning. “Be careful, + dear, when you express an opinion, always end it with a question: ‘Don’t + you think so?’ or something like that, otherwise, men may get the idea + that you are ‘STRONG-MINDED’!” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia, in her girlhood, had heard vague hints and rumours which now she + was able to interpret in the light of her experience. In her courtship + days she had met a man who always wore gloves, even in the hottest + weather, and she had heard that this was because of some affliction of the + skin. Now, talking with the young matrons of her own set, she learned that + this man had married, and had since had to take to a wheel-chair, while + his wife had borne a child with a monstrous deformed head, and had died of + the ordeal and the shock. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the stories that one uncovered—right in one’s own town, among + one’s own set—like foul sewers underneath the pavements! The + succession of deceased generations, of imbeciles, epileptics, paralytics! + The innocent children born to a life-time of torment; the women hiding + their secret agonies from the world! Sometimes women went all through life + without knowing the truth about themselves. There was poor Mrs. Valens, + for example, who reclined all day upon the gallery of one of the most + beautiful homes in the county, and showed her friends the palms of her + hands, all covered with callouses and scales, exclaiming: “What in the + world do you suppose can be the matter with me?” She had been a beautiful + woman, a “belle” of “Miss Margaret’s” day; she had married a man who was + rich and handsome and witty—and a rake. Now he was drunk all the + time, and two of his children had died in hospital, and another had arms + that came out of joint, and had to be put in plaster of Paris for months + at a time. His wife, the one-time darling of society, would lie on her + couch and read the Book of Job until she knew it by heart. + </p> + <p> + And could you believe it, when Sylvia came home, ablaze with excitement + over the story, she found that the only thing that her relatives were able + to see in it was the Book of Job! Under the burden of her afflictions the + woman had become devout; and how could anyone fail to see in this the deep + purposes of Providence revealed? “Verily,” said “Miss Margaret,” “‘whom + the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.’ We are told in the Lord’s Word that ‘the + sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children, even unto the + third and fourth generations,’ and do you suppose the Lord would have told + us that, if He had not known there would be such children?” + </p> + <p> + 19. I cannot pass over this part of my story without bringing forward Mrs. + Armistead, the town cynic, who constituted herself one of Sylvia’s sources + of information in the crisis. Mrs. Sallie Ann Armistead was the mother of + two boys with whom Sylvia, as a child, had insisted upon playing, in spite + of the protests of the family. “Wha’ fo’ you go wi’ dem Armistead chillun, + Mi’ Sylvia?” would cry Aunt Mandy, the cook. “Doan’ you know they + granddaddy done pick cottin in de fiel’ ‘long o’ me?” But while her father + was picking cotton, Sallie Ann had looked after her complexion and her + figure, and had married a rising young merchant. Now he was the wealthy + proprietor of a chain of “nigger stores,” and his wife was the possessor + of the most dreaded tongue in Castleman County. + </p> + <p> + She was a person who, if she had been born a duchess, would have made a + reputation in history; the one woman in the county who had a mind and was + not afraid to have it known. She used all the tricks of a duchess—lorgnettes, + for example, with which she stared people into a state of fright. She did + not dare try anything like that on the Castlemans, of course, but woe to + the little people who crossed her path! She had an eye that sought out + every human weakness, and such a wit that even her victims were + fascinated. One of the legends about her told how her dearest foe, a + dashing young matron, had died, and all the friends had gathered with + their floral tributes. Sallie Ann went in to review the remains, and when + she came out a sentimental voice inquired: “And how does our poor Ruth + look?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” was the answer, “as old and grey as ever!” + </p> + <p> + Now Mrs. Armistead stopped Sylvia in the street: “My dear, how goes the + eugenics campaign?” + </p> + <p> + And while Sylvia gazed, dumbfounded, the other went on as if she were + chatting about the weather: “You can’t realise what a stir you are making + in our little frog pond. Come, see me, and let me tell you the gossip! Do + you know you’ve enriched our vocabulary?” + </p> + <p> + “I have made someone look up the meaning of eugenics, at least,” answered + Sylvia—having got herself together in haste. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not only that, my dear. You have made a new medical term—the + ‘van Tuiver disease.’ Isn’t that interesting?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Sylvia shrivelled before this flame from hell. But then, + being the only person who had ever been able to chain this devil, she + said: “Indeed? I hope that with so fashionable a name the disease does not + become an epidemic!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Armistead gazed at her, and then, in a burst of enthusiasm, she + exclaimed: “Sylvia Castleman, I have always insisted that one of the most + interesting women in the world was spoiled by the taint of goodness in + you.” + </p> + <p> + She took Sylvia to her bosom, as it were. “Let us sit on the fence and + enjoy this spectacle! My dear, you can have no idea what an uproar you are + making! The young married women gather in their boudoirs and whisper + ghastly secrets to each other; some of them are sure they have it, and + some of them say they can trust their husbands—as if any man could + be trusted as far as you can throw a bull by the horns! Did you hear about + poor Mrs. Pattie Peyton, she has the measles, but she sent for a + specialist, and vowed she had something else—she had read about it, + and knew all the symptoms, and insisted on having elaborate blood-tests! + And little Mrs. Stanley Pendleton has left her husband, and everybody says + that’s the reason. The men are simply shivering in their boots—they + steal into the doctor’s offices by the back-doors, and a whole car-load of + the boys have been shipped off to Hot Springs to be boiled—” And so + on, while Mrs. Armistead revelled in the sensation of strolling down Main + Street with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + </p> + <p> + Then Sylvia would go home, and get the newest reactions of the family to + these horrors. Aunt Nannie, it seemed, made the discovery that Basil, + junr., her fifth son, was carrying on an intrigue with a mulatto girl in + the town; and she forbade him to go to Castleman Hall, for fear lest + Sylvia should worm the secret out of him; also she shipped Lucy May off to + visit a friend, and came and tried to persuade Mrs. Chilton to do the same + with Peggy and Maria, lest Sylvia should somehow corrupt these children. + </p> + <p> + The bishop came, having been ordered to preach religion to his wayward + niece. Poor dear Uncle Basil—he had tried preaching religion to + Sylvia many years ago, and never could do it because he loved her so well + that with all his Seventeenth Century theology he could not deny her + chance of salvation. Now the first sight that met his eyes when he came to + see her was his little blind grand-niece. And also he had in his secret + heart the knowledge that he, a rich and gay young planter before he became + converted to Methodism, had played with the fire of vice, and been badly + burned. So Sylvia did not find him at all the Voice of Authority, but just + a poor, hen-pecked, unhappy husband of a tyrannous Castleman woman. + </p> + <p> + The next thing was that “Miss Margaret” took up the notion that a time + such as this was not one for Sylvia’s husband to be away from her. What if + people were to say that they had separated? There were family + consultations, and in the midst of them there came word that van Tuiver + was called North upon business. When the family delegations came to + Sylvia, to insist that she go with him, the answer they got was that if + they could not let her stay quietly at home without asking her any + questions, she would go off to New York and live with a divorced woman + Socialist! + </p> + <p> + “Of course, they gave up,” she wrote me. “And half an hour ago poor dear + mamma came to my room and said: ‘Sylvia, dear, we will let you do what you + want, but won’t you please do one small favour for me?’ I got ready for + trouble, and asked what she wanted. Her answer was: ‘Won’t you go with + Celeste to the Young Matrons’ Cotillion tomorrow night, so that people + won’t think there’s anything the matter?’” + </p> + <p> + 20. Roger Peyton had gone off to Hot Springs, and Douglas van Tuiver was + in New York; so little by little the storms about Castleman Hall began to + abate in violence. Sylvia was absorbed with her baby, and beginning to fit + her life into that of her people. She found many ways in which she could + serve them—entertaining Uncle Mandeville to keep him sober; checking + the extravagrance of Celeste; nursing Castleman Lysle through green apple + convulsions. That was to be her life for the future, she told herself, and + she was making herself really happy in it—when suddenly, like a bolt + from the blue, came an event that swept her poor little plans into chaos. + </p> + <p> + It was an afternoon in March, the sun was shining brightly and the + Southern springtime was in full tide, and Sylvia had had the old family + carriage made ready, with two of the oldest and gentlest family horses, + and took the girls upon a shopping expedition to town. In the front seat + sat Celeste, driving, with two of her friends, and in the rear seat was + Sylvia, with Peggy and Maria. When an assemblage of allurements such as + this stopped on the streets of the town, the young men would come out of + the banks and the offices and gather round to chat. There would be a halt + before an ice-cream parlour, and a big tray of ices would be brought out, + and the girls would sit in the carriage and eat, and the boys would stand + on the curb and eat—undismayed by the fact that they had welcomed + half a dozen such parties during the afternoon. The statistics proved that + this was a thriving town, with rapidly increasing business, but there was + never so much business as to interfere with gallantries like these. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia enjoyed the scene; it took her back to happy days, before black + care had taken his seat behind her. She sat in a kind of dream, only half + hearing the merriment of the young people, and only half tasting her ice. + How she loved this old town, with its streets deep in black spring mud, + its mud-plastered “buck-boards” and saddle horses hitched at every + telegraph pole! Its banks and stores and law offices seemed shabbier after + one had made the “grand tour,” but they were none the less dear to her for + that. She would spend the rest of her days in Castleman County, and the + sunshine and peace would gradually enfold her. + </p> + <p> + Such were her thoughts when the unforeseen event befel. A man on + horse-back rode down a side-street, crossing Main Street a little way in + front of her; a man dressed in khaki, with a khaki riding hat pulled low + over his face. He rode rapidly—appearing and vanishing, so that + Sylvia scarcely saw him—really did not see him with her conscious + mind at all. Her thoughts were still busy with dreams, and the clatter of + boys and girls; but deep within her had begun a tumult—a trembling, + a pounding of the heart, a clamouring under the floors of her + consciousness. + </p> + <p> + And slowly this excitement mounted. What was the matter, what had + happened? A man had ridden by, but why should a man—. Surely it + could not have been—no. There were hundreds of men in Castleman + County who wore khaki and rode horse-back, and had sturdy, thick-set + figures! But then, how could she make a mistake? How could her instinct + have betrayed her so? It was that same view of him as he sat on a horse + that had first thrilled her during the hunting party years ago! + </p> + <p> + He had gone West, and had said that he would never return. He had not been + heard from in years. What an amazing thing, that a mere glimpse of a man + who looked and dressed and rode like him should be able to set her whole + being into such a panic! How futile became her dreams of peace! + </p> + <p> + She heard the sound of a vehicle close beside her carriage, and turned and + found herself looking into the sharp eyes of Mrs. Armistead. It happened + that Sylvia was on the side away from the curb, and there was no one + talking to her; so Mrs. Armistead ran her electric alongside, and had the + stirring occasion to herself. Sylvia looked into her face, so full of + malice, and knew two things in a flash: First, it really had been Frank + Shirley riding by; and second, Mrs. Armistead had seen him! + </p> + <p> + “Another candidate for your eugenics class!” said the lady. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia glanced at the young people and made sure they were paying no + attention. She might have made some remark that would have brought them + into the conversation, and delivered her from the torments of this devil. + But no, she had never quailed from Mrs. Armistead in her life, and she + would not now give her the satisfaction of driving off to tell the town + that Sylvia van Tuiver had seen Frank Shirley, and had been overcome by + it, and had taken refuge behind the skirts of her little sisters! + </p> + <p> + “You can see I have my carriage full of pupils” she said, smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “How happy it must make you, Sylvia—coming home and meeting all your + old friends! It must set you trembling with ecstasy—angels singing + in the sky above you—little golden bells ringing all over you!” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia recognised these phrases. They were part of an effort she had made + to describe the raptures of young love to her bosom friend, Harriet + Atkinson. And so Harriet had passed them on to the town! And they had been + cherished all these years. + </p> + <p> + She could not afford to recognise these illegitimate children of romance. + “Mrs. Armistead,” she said, “I had no idea you had so much poetry in you!” + </p> + <p> + “I am simply improvising, my dear—upon the colour in your cheeks at + present!” + </p> + <p> + There was no way save to be bold. “You couldn’t expect me not to be + excited, Mrs. Armistead. You see, I had no idea he had come back from the + West.” + </p> + <p> + “They say he left a wife there.” remarked the lady, innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Sylvia. “Then he will not be staying long, presumably.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause; all at once Mrs. Armistead’s voice became gentle and + sympathetic. “Sylvia,” she said, “don’t imagine that I fail to appreciate + what is going on in your heart. I know a true romance when I see one. If + only you could have known in those days what you know now, there might + have been one beautiful love story that did not end as a tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + You would have thought the lady’s better self had suddenly been touched. + But Sylvia knew her; too many times she had seen this huntress trying to + lure a victim out of his refuge. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Armistead,” she said, gently. “But I have the consolation at + least of being a martyr to science.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten the new medical term that I have given to the world?” + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Armistead looked at her for a moment aghast. “My God, Sylvia!” + she whispered; and then—an honest tribute: “You certainly can take + care of yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sylvia. “Tell that to my other friends in town.” And so, at + last, Mrs. Armistead started her machine, and this battle of hell-cats + came to an end. + </p> + <p> + 21. Sylvia rode home in a daze, answering without hearing the prattle of + the children. She was appalled at the emotions that possessed her—that + the sight of Frank Shirley riding down the street could have affected her + so! She forgot Mrs. Armistead, she forgot the whole world, in her dismay + over her own state of mind. Having dismissed Frank from her life and her + thoughts forever, it seemed to her preposterous that she should be at the + mercy of such an excitement. + </p> + <p> + She found herself wondering about her family. Did they know that Frank + Shirley had returned? Would they have failed to mention it to her? For a + moment she told herself it would not have occurred to them she could have + any interest in the subject. But no—they were not so <i>naive</i>—the + Castleman women—as their sense of propriety made them pretend to be! + But how stupid of them not to give her warning! Suppose she had happened + to meet Frank face to face, and in the presence of others! She must + certainly have betrayed her excitement; and just at this time, when the + world had the Castleman family under the microscope! + </p> + <p> + She told herself that she would avoid such difficulty in future; she would + stay at home until Frank had gone away. If he had a wife in the West, + presumably he had merely come for a visit to his mother and sisters. And + then Sylvia found herself in an argument with herself. What possible + difference could it make that Frank Shirley had a wife? So long as she, + Sylvia, had a husband, what else mattered? Yet she could not deny it—it + brought her a separate and additional pang that Frank Shirley should have + married. What sort of wife could he have found—he, a stranger in the + far West? And why had he not brought his wife home to his people? + </p> + <p> + When she stepped out of the carriage, it was with her mind made up that + she would stay at home until all danger was past. But the next afternoon a + neighbour called up to ask Sylvia and Celeste to come and play cards in + the evening. It was not a party, Mrs. Witherspoon explained to “Miss + Margaret,” who answered the ‘phone; just a few friends and a good time, + and she did so hope that Sylvia was not going to refuse. The mere hint of + the fear that Sylvia might refuse was enough to excite Mrs. Castleman. Why + should Sylvia refuse? So she accepted the invitation, and then came to + plead with her daughter—for Celeste’s sake, and for the sake of all + her family, so that the world might see that she was not crushed by + misfortune! + </p> + <p> + There were reasons why the invitation was a difficult one to decline. Mrs. + Virginia Witherspoon was the daughter of a Confederate general whose name + you read in every history-book; and she had a famous old home in the + country which was falling about her ears—her husband being seldom + sober enough to know what was happening. She had also three blossoming + daughters, whom she must manage to get out of the home before the + plastering of the drawing-room fell upon the heads of their suitors; so + that the ardour of her husband-hunting was one of the jokes of the State. + Naturally, under such circumstances, the Witherspoons had to be treated + with consideration by the Castlemans. One might snub rich Yankees, and + chasten the suddenly-prosperous; but a family with an ancient house in + ruins, and with faded uniforms and battle-scarred sabres in the + cedar-chests in its attic—such a family can with difficulty overdraw + its social bank account. + </p> + <p> + Dolly Witherspoon, the oldest daughter, had been Sylvia’s rival for the + palm as the most beautiful girl in Castleman County. And Sylvia had + triumphed, and Dolly had failed. So, in her secret heart she hated Sylvia, + and the mother hated her; and yet—such was the social game—they + had to invite Sylvia and her sister to their card-parties, and Sylvia and + her sister had to go. They had to go and be the most striking figures + there: Celeste, slim and pale from sorrow, virginal, in clinging white + chiffon; and Sylvia, regal and splendid, shimmering like a mermaid in a + gown of emerald green. + </p> + <p> + The mermaid imagined that she noticed a slight agitation underneath the + cordiality of her hostess. The next person to greet her was Mrs. + Armistead; and Sylvia was sure that she did not imagine the suppressed + excitement in that lady’s manner. But even while she was speculating and + suspecting, she was led toward the drawing-room. It was late, her hostess + explained; the other guests were waiting, so if they did not mind, the + play would start at once. Celeste was to sit at that table over there, + with Mr. Witherspoon’s crippled brother, and old Mr. Perkins, who was + deaf; and Sylvia was to come this way—the table in the corner. + Sylvia moved toward it, and Dolly Witherspoon and her sister, Emma, + greeted her cordially, and then stepped out of the way to let her to her + seat; and Sylvia gave one glance—and found herself face to face with + Frank Shirley! + </p> + <p> + 22. Frank’s face was scarlet; and Sylvia had a moment of blind terror, + when she wanted to turn and fly. But there about her was the circle of her + enemies; a whole roomful of people, breathless with curiosity, drinking in + with eyes and ears every hint of distress that she might give. And the + next morning the whole town would, in imagination, attend the scene! + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Julia,” said Sylvia, to Mrs. Witherspoon’s youngest + daughter, the other lady at the table. “Good-evening, Malcolm”—to + Malcolm McCallum, an old “beau” of hers. And then, taking the seat which + Malcolm sprang to move out for her, “How do you do, Frank?” + </p> + <p> + Frank’s eyes had fallen to his lap. “How do you do?” he murmured. The + sound of his voice, low and trembling, full of pain, was like the sound of + some old funeral bell to Sylvia; it sent the blood leaping in torrents to + her forehead. Oh, horrible, horrible! + </p> + <p> + For a moment her eyes fell like his, and she shuddered, and was beaten. + But there was the roomful of people, watching; there was Mrs. Armistead, + there were the Witherspoon women gloating. She forced a tortured smile to + her lips, and asked, “What are we playing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, didn’t you know that?” said Julia. “Progressive whist.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank-you,” said Sylvia. “When do we begin?” And she looked about—anywhere + but at Frank Shirley, with his face grown so old in four years. + </p> + <p> + No one said anything, no one made a move. Was everybody in the room + conspiring to break her down? “I thought we were late,” she said, + desperately; and then, with another effort—“Shall I cut?” she asked, + of Julia. + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said the girl; but she did not make a motion to pass the + cards. Her manner seemed to say, You may cut all night, but it won’t help + you to rob me of this satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia made a still more determined effort. If the game was to be + postponed indefinitely, so that people might watch her and Frank—well, + she would have to find something to talk about. + </p> + <p> + “It is a surprise to see you again, Frank Shirley!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. His voice was a mumble, and he did not lift his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You have been in the West, I understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” again; but still he did not lift his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia managed to lift hers as far as his cravat; and she saw in it an old + piece of imitation jewelry which she had picked up once on the street, and + had handed to him in jest. He had worn it all these years! He had not + thrown it away—not even when she had thrown him away! + </p> + <p> + Again came a surge of emotion; and out of the mist she looked about her + and saw the faces of tormenting demons, leering. “Well,” she demanded, + “are we going to play?” + </p> + <p> + “We were waiting for you to cut,” said Julia, graciously; and Sylvia’s + fury helped to restore her self-posession. She cut the cards; and fate was + kind, sparing both her and Frank the task of dealing. + </p> + <p> + But then a new difficulty arose. Julia dealt, and thirteen cards lay in + front of Frank Shirley; but he did not seem to know that he ought to pick + them up. And when the opposing lady called him to time, in what seemed an + unnecessarily penetrating voice, he found that he was physically unable to + get the cards from the table. And when with his fumbling efforts he got + them into a bunch, he could not straighten them out—to say nothing + of the labour of sorting them according to suit, which all whist-players + know to be an indispensable preliminary to the game. When the opposing + lady prodded him again, Frank’s face changed from vivid scarlet to a dark + and alarming purple. + </p> + <p> + Miss Julia led the tray of clubs; and Frank, whose turn came next, spilled + three cards upon the table, and finally selected from them the king of + hearts to play—hearts being trumps. “But you have a club there, Mr. + Shirley,” said his opponent; something that was pardonable, inasmuch as + the nine of clubs lay face up where he had shoved it aside. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—I beg pardon,” he stammered, and took back his king, and reached + into his hand and pulled out the six of clubs, and a diamond with it. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that this could not go on. Sylvia might be equal to the + emergency, but Frank was not. He was too much of a human being and too + little of a social automaton. Something must be done. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t they play whist out West, Mr. Shirley,” asked Julia, still smiling + benevolently. + </p> + <p> + And Sylvia lowered her cards. “Surely, my dear, you must understand,” she + said, gently. “Mr. Shirley is too much embarrassed to think about cards.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the other, taken aback. (<i>L’audace, touljours l’audace!</i> + runs the formula!) + </p> + <p> + “You see,” continued Sylvia, “this is the first time that Frank has seen + me in more than three years. And when two people have been as much in love + as he and I were, they are naturally disturbed when they meet, and cannot + put their minds upon a game of cards.” + </p> + <p> + Julia was speechless. And Sylvia let her glance wander casually about the + room. She saw her hostess and her daughters standing watching; and near + the wall at the other side of the room stood the head-devil, who had + planned this torment. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Armistead,” Sylvia called, “aren’t you going to play to-night?” Of + course everybody in the room heard this; and after it, anyone could have + heard a pin drop. + </p> + <p> + “I’m to keep score,” said Mrs. Armistead. + </p> + <p> + “But it doesn’t need four to keep score,” objected Sylvia—and looked + at the three Witherspoon ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly and Emma are staying out,” said Mrs. Witherspoon. “Two of our + guests did not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Sylvia exclaimed, “that just makes it right! Please let them take + the place of Mr. Shirley and myself. You see, we haven’t seen each other + for three or four years, and it’s hard for us to get interested into a + game of cards.” + </p> + <p> + The whole room caught its breath at once; and here and there one heard a + little squeak of hysteria, cut short by some one who was not sure whether + it was a joke or a scandal. “Why—Sylvia!” stammered Mrs. + Witherspoon, completely staggered. + </p> + <p> + Then Sylvia perceived that she was mistress of the scene. There came the + old rapture of conquest, that made her social genius. “We have so much + that we want to talk about,” she said, in her most winning voice. “Let + Dolly and Emma take our places, and we will sit on the sofa in the other + room and chat. You and Mrs. Armistead come and chaperone us. Won’t you do + that, please?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why——” gasped the bewildered lady. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure that you will both be interested to hear what we have to say to + each other; and you can tell everybody about it afterwards—and that + will be so much better than having the card-game delayed any more.” + </p> + <p> + And with this side-swipe Sylvia arose. She stood and waited, to make sure + that her ex-fiancé was not too paralysed to follow. She led him out + through the tangle of card-tables; and in the door-way she stopped and + waited for Mrs. Armistead and Mrs. Witherspoon, and literally forced these + two ladies to come with her out of the room. + </p> + <p> + 23. Do you care to hear the details of the punishment which Sylvia + administered to the two conspirators? She took them to the sofa, and made + Frank draw up chairs for them, and when she had got comfortably seated, + she proceeded to talk to Frank just as gently and sincerely and touchingly + as she would have talked if there had been nobody present. She asked about + all that had befallen him, and when she discovered that he was still not + able to chat, she told him about herself, about her baby, who was + beautiful and dear, even if she was blind, and about all the interesting + things she had seen in Europe. When presently the old ladies showed signs + of growing restless, she put hand cuffs on them and chained them to their + chairs. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said, “it would never do for Mr. Shirley and myself to talk + without a chaperon. You got me into this situation, you know, and papa and + mamma would never forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Sylvia!” cried Mrs. Witherspoon. “Mr. Shirley so seldom + goes out, and he had said he didn’t think he would come!” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to accept that explanation,” said Sylvia, politely, “but you + must help me out now that the embarrassing accident has happened.” + </p> + <p> + Nor did it avail Mrs. Witherspoon to plead her guests and their score. + “You may be sure they don’t care about the score,” said Sylvia. “They’d + much prefer you stayed here, so that you can tell them how Frank and I + behaved.” + </p> + <p> + And then, while Mrs. Witherspoon was getting herself together, Sylvia + turned upon the other conspirator. “We will now hold one of my eugenics + classes,” she said, and added, to Frank, “Mrs. Armistead told me that you + wanted to join my class.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” replied Frank, at a loss. + </p> + <p> + “I will explain,” said Sylvia. “It is not a very refined joke they have in + the town. Mrs. Armistead meant to say that she credits a disgraceful story + that was circulated about you when we were engaged, and which my people + made use of to make me break our engagement. I am glad to have a chance to + tell you that I have investigated and satisfied myself that the story was + not true. I want to apologise to you for ever having believed it; and I am + sure that Mrs. Armistead may be glad of this opportunity to apologise for + having said that she believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “I never said that I believed it!” cried Sallie Ann. + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn’t, Mrs. Armistead—you would not be so crude as to say + it directly. You merely dropped a hint, which would lead everybody to + understand that you believed it.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia paused, just long enough to let the wicked lady suffer, but not + long enough to let her find a reply. “When you tell your friends about + this scene,” she continued, “please make clear that I did not drop hints + about anything, but said exactly what I meant—that the story is + false, so far as it implies any evil done by Mr. Shirley, and that I am + deeply ashamed of myself for having ever believed it. It is all in the + past now, of course—we are both of us married, and we shall probably + never meet again. But it will be a help to us in future to have had this + little talk—will it not, Frank?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, while Sallie Ann Armistead recovered from her dismay, + and got back a little of her fighting power. Suddenly she rose: + “Virginia,” she said, firmly, “you are neglecting your guests.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you ought to go until Frank has got himself together,” said + Sylvia. “Frank, can you sort your cards now?” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia!” commanded Sallie Ann, imperiously. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Witherspoon rose, and so did Sylvia. “We can’t stay here alone,” said + she. “Frank, will you take Mrs. Witherspoon in?” And she gently but firmly + took Mrs. Armistead’s arm, and so they marched back into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Dolly and Emma had progressed to separate tables, it developed, so that + the ordeal of Frank and Sylvia was over. Through the remainder of the + evening Sylvia chatted and played, and later partook of refreshments with + Malcolm McCallum, and mildly teased that inconsolable bachelor, quite as + in the old days. Now and then she stole a glance at Frank Shirley, and saw + that he was holding up his end; but he kept away from her, and she never + even caught his eye. + </p> + <p> + At last the company broke up, and Sylvia thanked her hostess for a most + enjoyable evening. She stepped into the motor with Celeste, and sat with + compressed lips, answering in monosyllables her “little sister’s” flood of + excited questions—“Oh, Sylvia, didn’t you feel perfectly <i>terrible?</i> + Oh, sister, I felt <i>thrills</i> running up and down my back! Sister, + what <i>did</i> you say to him? Sister, do you know old Mr. Perkins kept + leaning over me and asking what was happening; and how could I shout into + his deaf ear that everybody was stopping to hear what you were saying to + Frank Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the ride, there was Aunt Varina waiting up as usual—to + renew her own youth in the story of the evening, what this person had worn + and what that person had said. But Sylvia left her sister to tell the + story, and fled to her room and locked the door, and flung herself upon + the bed and gave way to a torrent of weeping. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Celeste went up, and finding that the door between her + room and Sylvia’s was unlocked, opened it softly, and stood listening. + Finally she stole to her sister’s side and put her arm about her. “Never + mind, sister dear,” she whispered, solemnly, “I know how it is! We women + all have to suffer!” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia’s Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5807-h.htm or 5807-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/0/5807/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + + +</pre> + + </body> +</html> diff --git a/5807.txt b/5807.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..026a1f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/5807.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8456 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sylvia's Marriage + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5807] +This file was first posted on September 4, 2002 +Last updated: May 3, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE + +A NOVEL + + +By Upton Sinclair + +Author Of "The Jungle," Etc., Etc. + +London + + + + +SOME PRESS NOTICES + +"The importance of the theme cannot be doubted, and no one hitherto +ignorant of the ravages of the evil and therefore, by implication, in +need of being convinced can refuse general agreement with Mr. Sinclair +upon the question as he argues it. The character that matters most is +very much alive and most entertaining."--_The Times._ + +"Very severe and courageous. It would, indeed, be difficult to deny +or extenuate the appalling truth of Mr. Sinclair's indictment."-- _The +Nation._ + +"There is not a man nor a grown woman who would not be better for +reading Sylvia's Marriage."--_The Globe_ + +"Those who found Sylvia charming on her first appearance will find her +as beautiful and fascinating as ever."--_The Pall Mall_. + +"A novel that frankly is devoted to the illustration of the dangers +that society runs through the marriage of unsound men with unsuspecting +women. The time has gone by when any objection was likely to be taken to +a perfectly clean discussion of a nasty subject."--_T.P.'s Weekly._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +BOOK I SYLVIA AS WIFE + +BOOK II SYLVIA AS MOTHER + +BOOK III SYLVIA AS REBEL + + + + + + +SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE + + + + +BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE + + +1. I am telling the story of Sylvia Castleman. I should prefer to tell +it without mention of myself; but it was written in the book of fate +that I should be a decisive factor in her life, and so her story +pre-supposes mine. I imagine the impatience of a reader, who is promised +a heroine out of a romantic and picturesque "society" world, and +finds himself beginning with the autobiography of a farmer's wife on a +solitary homestead in Manitoba. But then I remember that Sylvia found +me interesting. Putting myself in her place, remembering her eager +questions and her exclamations, I am able to see myself as a heroine of +fiction. + +I was to Sylvia a new and miraculous thing, a self-made woman. I must +have been the first "common" person she had ever known intimately. She +had seen us afar off, and wondered vaguely about us, consoling herself +with the reflection that we probably did not know enough to be unhappy +over our sad lot in life. But here I was, actually a soul like herself; +and it happened that I knew more than she did, and of things she +desperately needed to know. So all the luxury, power and prestige that +had been given to Sylvia Castleman seemed as nothing beside Mary Abbott, +with her modern attitude and her common-sense. + +My girlhood was spent upon a farm in Iowa. My father had eight children, +and he drank. Sometimes he struck me; and so it came about that at +the age of seventeen I ran away with a boy of twenty who worked upon +a neighbour's farm. I wanted a home of my own, and Tom had some money +saved up. We journeyed to Manitoba, and took out a homestead, where I +spent the next twenty years of my life in a hand-to-hand struggle with +Nature which seemed simply incredible to Sylvia when I told her of it. + +The man I married turned out to be a petty tyrant. In the first five +years of our life he succeeded in killing the love I had for him; but +meantime I had borne him three children, and there was nothing to do but +make the best of my bargain. I became to outward view a beaten drudge; +yet it was the truth that never for an hour did I give up. When I lost +what would have been my fourth child, and the doctor told me that I +could never have another, I took this for my charter of freedom, and +made up my mind to my course; I would raise the children I had, and grow +up with them, and move out into life when they did. + +This was when I was working eighteen hours a day, more than half of +it by lamp-light, in the darkness of our Northern winters. When the +accident came, I had been doing the cooking for half a dozen men, who +were getting in the wheat upon which our future depended. I fell in my +tracks, and lost my child; yet I sat still and white while the men ate +supper, and afterwards I washed up the dishes. Such was my life in +those days; and I can see before me the face of horror with which Sylvia +listened to the story. But these things are common in the experience +of women who live upon pioneer farms, and toil as the slave-woman has +toiled since civilization began. + +We won out, and my husband made money. I centred my energies upon +getting school-time for my children; and because I had resolved that +they should not grow ahead of me, I sat up at night, and studied their +books. When the oldest boy was ready for high-school, we moved to a +town, where my husband had bought a granary business. By that time I +had become a physical wreck, with a list of ailments too painful to +describe. But I still had my craving for knowledge, and my illness was +my salvation, in a way--it got me a hired girl, and time to patronize +the free library. + +I had never had any sort of superstition or prejudice, and when I got +into the world of books, I began quickly to find my way. I travelled +into by-paths, of course; I got Christian Science badly, and New Thought +in a mild attack. I still have in my mind what the sober reader would +doubtless consider queer kinks; for instance, I still practice "mental +healing," in a form, and I don't always tell my secret thoughts about +Theosophy and Spiritualism. But almost at once I worked myself out of +the religion I had been taught, and away from my husband's politics, +and the drugs of my doctors. One of the first subjects I read about was +health; I came upon a book on fasting, and went away upon a visit and +tried it, and came back home a new woman, with a new life before me. + +In all of these matters my husband fought me at every step. He wished +to rule, not merely my body, but my mind, and it seemed as if every new +thing that I learned was an additional affront to him. I don't think +I was rendered disagreeable by my culture; my only obstinacy was in +maintaining the right of the children to do their own thinking. But +during this time my husband was making money, and filling his life with +that. He remained in his every idea the money-man, an active and bitter +leader of the forces of greed in our community; and when my studies took +me to the inevitable end, and I joined the local of the Socialist party +in our town, it was to him like a blow in the face. He never got over +it, and I think that if the children had not been on my side, he would +have claimed the Englishman's privilege of beating me with a stick +not thicker than his thumb. As it was, he retired into a sullen +hypochondria, which was so pitiful that in the end I came to regard him +as not responsible. + +I went to a college town with my three children, and when they were +graduated, having meantime made sure that I could never do anything but +torment my husband, I set about getting a divorce. I had helped to lay +the foundation of his fortune, cementing it with my blood, I might say, +and I could fairly have laid claim to half what he had brought from +the farm; but my horror of the parasitic woman had come to be such that +rather than even seem to be one, I gave up everything, and went out into +the world at the age of forty-five to earn my own living. My children +soon married, and I would not be a burden to them; so I came East for +a while, and settled down quite unexpectedly into a place as a +field-worker for a child-labour committee. + +You may think that a woman so situated would not have been apt to meet +Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, _nee_ Castleman, and to be chosen for her bosom +friend; but that would only be because you do not know the modern world. +We have managed to get upon the consciences of the rich, and they invite +us to attend their tea-parties and disturb their peace of mind. And +then, too, I had a peculiar hold upon Sylvia; when I met her I possessed +the key to the great mystery of her life. How that had come about is a +story in itself, the thing I have next to tell. + +2. It happened that my arrival in New York from the far West coincided +with Sylvia's from the far South; and that both fell at a time when +there were no wars or earthquakes or football games to compete for +the front page of the newspapers. So everybody was talking about the +prospective wedding. The fact that the Southern belle had caught +the biggest prize among the city's young millionaires was enough to +establish precedence with the city's subservient newspapers, which had +proceeded to robe the grave and punctilious figure of the bridegroom in +the garments of King Cophetua. The fact that the bride's father was +the richest man in his own section did not interfere with this--for how +could metropolitan editors be expected to have heard of the glories of +Castleman Hall, or to imagine that there existed a section of America so +self-absorbed that its local favourite would not feel herself exalted in +becoming Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver? + +What the editors knew about Castleman Hall was that they wired for +pictures, and a man was sent from the nearest city to "snap" +this unknown beauty; whereupon her father chased the presumptuous +photographer and smashed his camera with a cane. So, of course, when +Sylvia stepped out of the train in New York, there was a whole battery +of cameras awaiting her, and all the city beheld her image the next day. + +The beginning of my interest in this "belle" from far South was when I +picked up the paper at my breakfast table, and found her gazing at me, +with the wide-open, innocent eyes of a child; a child who had come from +some fairer, more gracious world, and brought the memory of it with her, +trailing her clouds of glory. She had stepped from the train into the +confusion of the roaring city, and she stood, startled and frightened, +yet, I thought, having no more real idea of its wickedness and horror +than a babe in arms. I read her soul in that heavenly countenance, and +sat looking at it, enraptured, dumb. There must have been thousands, +even in that metropolis of Mammon, who loved her from that picture, and +whispered a prayer for her happiness. + +I can hear her laugh as I write this. For she would have it that I was +only one more of her infatuated lovers, and that her clouds of glory +were purely stage illusion. She knew exactly what she was doing with +those wide-open, innocent eyes! Had not old Lady Dee, most cynical +of worldlings, taught her how to use them when she was a child in +pig-tails? To be sure she had been scared when she stepped off the +train, and strange men had shoved cameras under her nose. It was almost +as bad as being assassinated! But as to her heavenly soul--alas, for the +blindness of men, and of sentimental old women, who could believe in a +modern "society" girl! + +I had supposed that I was an emancipated woman when I came to New York. +But one who has renounced the world, the flesh and the devil, knowing +them only from pictures in magazines and Sunday supplements; such a +one may find that he has still some need of fasting and praying. +The particular temptation which overcame me was this picture of the +bride-to-be. I wanted to see her, and I went and stood for hours in a +crowd of curious women, and saw the wedding party enter the great Fifth +Avenue Church, and discovered that my Sylvia's hair was golden, and her +eyes a strange and wonderful red-brown. And this was the moment that +fate had chosen to throw Claire Lepage into my arms, and give me the key +to the future of Sylvia's life. + +3. I am uncertain how much I should tell about Claire Lepage. It is a +story which is popular in a certain sort of novel, but I have no wish +for that easy success. Towards Claire herself I had no trace of the +conventional attitude, whether of contempt or of curiosity. She was to +me the product of a social system, of the great New Nineveh which I was +investigating. And later on, when I knew her, she was a weak sister whom +I tried to help. + +It happened that I knew much more about such matters than the average +woman--owing to a tragedy in my life. When I was about twenty-five years +old, my brother-in-law had moved his family to our part of the world, +and one of his boys had become very dear to me. This boy later on +had got into trouble, and rather than tell anyone about it, had shot +himself. So my eyes had been opened to things that are usually hidden +from my sex; for the sake of my own sons, I had set out to study the +underground ways of the male creature. I developed the curious custom of +digging out every man I met, and making him lay bare his inmost life to +me; so you may understand that it was no ordinary pair of woman's arms +into which Claire Lepage was thrown. + +At first I attributed her vices to her environment, but soon I realized +that this was a mistake; the women of her world do not as a rule go to +pieces. Many of them I met were free and independent women, one or two +of them intellectual and worth knowing. For the most part such women +marry well, in the worldly sense, and live as contented lives as the +average lady who secures her life-contract at the outset. If you had met +Claire at an earlier period of her career, and if she had been concerned +to impress you, you might have thought her a charming hostess. She +had come of good family, and been educated in a convent--much better +educated than many society girls in America. She spoke English as well +as she did French, and she had read some poetry, and could use the +language of idealism whenever necessary. She had even a certain +religious streak, and could voice the most generous sentiments, and +really believe that she believed them. So it might have been some time +before you discovered the springs of her weakness. + +In the beginning I blamed van Tuiver; but in the end I concluded that +for most of her troubles she had herself to thank--or perhaps the +ancestors who had begotten her. She could talk more nobly and act more +abjectly than any other woman I have ever known. She wanted pleasant +sensations, and she expected life to furnish them continuously. +Instinctively she studied the psychology of the person she was dealing +with, and chose a reason which would impress that person. + +At this time, you understand, I knew nothing about Sylvia Castleman +or her fiance, except what the public knew. But now I got an inside +view--and what a view! I had read some reference to Douglas van Tuiver's +Harvard career: how he had met the peerless Southern beauty, and had +given up college and pursued her to her home. I had pictured the +wooing in the rosy lights of romance, with all the glamour of worldly +greatness. But now, suddenly, what a glimpse into the soul of the +princely lover! "He had a good scare, let me tell you," said Claire. "He +never knew what I was going to do from one minute to the next." + +"Did he see you in the crowd before the church door?" I inquired. + +"No," she replied, "but he thought of me, I can promise you." + +"He knew you were coming?" + +She answered, "I told him I had got an admission card, just to make sure +he'd keep me in mind!" + +4. I did not have to hear much more of Claire's story before making up +my mind that the wealthiest and most fashionable of New York's young +bachelors was a rather self-centred person. He had fallen desperately in +love with the peerless Southern beauty, and when she had refused to +have anything to do with him, he had come back to the other woman for +consolation, and had compelled her to pretend to sympathize with his +agonies of soul. And this when he knew that she loved him with the +intensity of a jealous nature. + +Claire had her own view of Sylvia Castleman, a view for which I +naturally made due reservations. Sylvia was a schemer, who had known +from the first what she wanted, and had played her part with masterly +skill. As for Claire, she had striven to match her moves, plotting +in the darkness against her, and fighting desperately with such weak +weapons as she possessed. It was characteristic that she did not +blame herself for her failure; it was the baseness of van Tuiver, his +inability to appreciate sincere devotion, his unworthiness of her love. +And this, just after she had been naively telling me of her efforts to +poison his mind against Sylvia while pretending to admire her! But I +made allowances for Claire at this moment--realizing that the situation +had been one to overstrain any woman's altruism. + +She had failed in her subtleties, and there had followed scenes of +bitter strife between the two. Sylvia, the cunning huntress, having +pretended to relent, van Tuiver had gone South to his wooing again, +while Claire had stayed at home and read a book about the poisoners +of the Italian renaissance. And then had come the announcement of the +engagement, after which the royal conqueror had come back in a panic, +and sent embassies of his male friends to plead with Claire, alternately +promising her wealth and threatening her with destitution, appealing +to her fear, her cupidity, and even to her love. To all of which I +listened, thinking of the wide-open, innocent eyes of the picture, and +shedding tears within my soul. So must the gods feel as they look down +upon the affairs of mortals, seeing how they destroy themselves by +ignorance and folly, seeing how they walk into the future as a blind man +into a yawning abyss. + +I gave, of course, due weight to the sneers of Claire. Perhaps the +innocent one really had set a trap--had picked van Tuiver out and +married him for his money. But even so, I could hope that she had not +known what she was doing. Surely it had never occurred to her that +through all the days of her triumph she would have to eat and sleep with +the shade of another woman at her side! + +Claire said to me, not once, but a dozen times, "He'll come back to me. +She'll never be able to make him happy." And so I pictured Sylvia upon +her honeymoon, followed by an invisible ghost whose voice she would +never hear, whose name she would never know. All that van Tuiver had +learned from Claire, the sensuality, the _ennin_, the contempt for +woman--it would rise to torment and terrify his bride, and turn her +life to bitterness. And then beyond this, deeps upon deeps, to which +my imagination did not go--and of which the Frenchwoman, with all +her freedom of tongue, gave me no more than a hint which I could not +comprehend. + +5. Claire Lepage at this time was desperately lonely and unhappy. Having +made the discovery that my arms were sturdy, used to doing a man's +work, she clung to them. She begged me to go home with her, to visit +her--finally to come and live with her. Until recently an elderly +companion, had posed as her aunt, and kept her respectable while she +was upon van Tuiver's yacht, and at his castle in Scotland. But this +companion had died, and now Claire had no one with whom to discuss her +soul-states. + +She occupied a beautiful house on the West Side, not far from Riverside +Drive; and in addition to the use of this she had an income of eight +thousand a year--which was not enough to make possible a chauffeur, nor +even to dress decently, but only enough to keep in debt upon. Such as +the income was, however, she was willing to share it with me. So +there opened before me a new profession--and a new insight into the +complications of parasitism. + +I went to see her frequently at first, partly because I was interested +in her and her associates, and partly because I really thought I could +help her. But I soon came to realize that influencing Claire was like +moulding water; it flowed back round your hands, even while you worked. +I would argue with her about the physiological effects of alcohol, and +when I had convinced her, she would promise caution; but soon I would +discover that my arguments had gone over her head. I was at this time +feeling my way towards my work in the East. I tried to interest her in +such things as social reform, but realized that they had no meaning for +her. She was living the life of the pleasure-seeking idlers of the great +metropolis, and every time I met her it seemed to me that her character +and her appearance had deteriorated. + +Meantime I picked up scraps of information concerning the van Tuivers. +There were occasional items in the papers, their yacht, the "Triton," +had reached the Azores; it had run into a tender in the harbour +of Gibraltar; Mr. and Mrs. van Tuiver had received the honour of +presentation at the Vatican; they were spending the season in London, +and had been presented at court; they had been royal guests at the +German army-manoeuvres. The million wage-slaves of the metropolis, +packed morning and night into the roaring subways and whirled to and +from their tasks, read items such as these and were thrilled by the +triumphs of their fellow-countrymen. + +At Claire's house I learned to be interested in "society" news. From +a weekly paper of gossip about the rich and great she would read +paragraphs, explaining subtle allusions and laying bare veiled scandals. +Some of the men she knew well, referring to them for my benefit as +Bertie and Reggie and Vivie and Algie. She also knew not a little about +the women of that super-world--information sometimes of an intimate +nature, which these ladies would have been startled to hear was going +the rounds. + +This insight I got into Claire's world I found useful, needless to say, +in my occasional forays as a soap-box orator of Socialism. I would go +from the super-heated luxury of her home to visit tenement-dens where +little children made paper-flowers twelve and fourteen hours a day for a +trifle over one cent an hour. I would spend the afternoon floating about +in the park in the automobile of one of her expensive friends, and then +take the subway and visit one of the settlements, to hear a discussion +of conditions which doomed a certain number of working-girls to be +burned alive every year in factory fires. + +As time went on, I became savage concerning such contrasts, and the +speeches I was making for the party began to attract attention. During +the summer, I recollect, I had begun to feel hostile even towards the +lovely image of Sylvia, which I had framed in my room. While she was +being presented at St. James's, I was studying the glass-factories +in South Jersey, where I found little boys of ten working in front of +glowing furnaces until they dropped of exhaustion and sometimes had +their eyes burned out. While she and her husband were guests of the +German Emperor, I was playing the part of a Polish working-woman, +penetrating the carefully guarded secrets of the sugar-trust's domain in +Brooklyn, where human lives are snuffed out almost every day in noxious +fumes. + +And then in the early fall Sylvia came home, her honeymoon over. +She came in one of the costly suites in the newest of the _de luxe_ +steamers; and the next morning I saw a new picture of her, and read +a few words her husband had condescended to say to a fellow traveller +about the courtesy of Europe to visiting Americans. Then for a couple +of months I heard no more of them. I was busy with my child-labour +work, and I doubt if a thought of Sylvia crossed my mind, until that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon at Mrs. Allison's when she came up to me +and took my hand in hers. + +6. Mrs. Roland Allison was one of the comfortable in body who had +begun to feel uncomfortable in mind. I had happened to meet her at +the settlement, and tell her what I had seen in the glass factories; +whereupon she made up her mind that everybody she knew must hear me +talk, and to that end gave a reception at her Madison Avenue home. + +I don't remember much of what I said, but if I may take the evidence of +Sylvia, who remembered everything, I spoke effectively. I told them, for +one thing, the story of little Angelo Patri. Little Angelo was of that +indeterminate Italian age where he helped to support a drunken father +without regard to the child-labour laws of the State of New Jersey. +His people were tenants upon a fruit-farm a couple of miles from the +glass-factory, and little Angelo walked to and from his work along the +railroad-track. It is a peculiarity of the glass-factory that it has to +eat its children both by day and by night; and after working six hours +before midnight and six more after midnight, little Angelo was tired. He +had no eye for the birds and flowers on a beautiful spring morning, but +as he was walking home, he dropped in his tracks and fell asleep. The +driver of the first morning train on that branch-line saw what he +took to be an old coat lying on the track ahead, and did not stop to +investigate. + +All this had been narrated to me by the child's mother, who had worked +as a packer of "beers," and who had loved little Angelo. As I repeated +her broken words about the little mangled body, I saw some of my +auditors wipe away a surreptitious tear. + +After I had stopped, several women came up to talk with me at the last, +when most of the company was departing, there came one more, who had +waited her turn. The first thing I saw was her loveliness, the thing +about her that dazzled and stunned people, and then came the strange +sense of familiarity. Where had I met this girl before? + +She said what everybody always says; she had been so much interested, +she had never dreamed that such conditions existed in the world. I, +applying the acid test, responded, "So many people have said that to me +that I have begun to believe it." + +"It is so in my case," she replied, quickly. "You see, I have lived all +my life in the South, and we have no such conditions there." + +"Are you sure?" I asked. + +"Our negroes at least can steal enough to eat," she said. + +I smiled. Then--since one has but a moment or two to get in one's work +in these social affairs, and so has to learn to thrust quickly: "You +have timber-workers in Louisiana, steel-workers in Alabama. You have +tobacco-factories, canning-factories, cotton-mills--have you been to any +of them to see how the people live?" + +All this I said automatically, it being the routine of the agitator. +But meantime in my mind was an excitement, spreading like a flame. The +loveliness of this young girl; the eagerness, the intensity of feeling +written upon her countenance; and above all, the strange sense of +familiarity! Surely, if I had met her before, I should never have +forgotten her; surely it could not be--not possibly-- + +My hostess came, and ended my bewilderment. "You ought to get Mrs. van +Tuiver on your child-labour committee," she said. + +A kind of panic seized me. I wanted to say, "Oh, it is Sylvia +Castleman!" But then, how could I explain? I couldn't say, "I have your +picture in my room, cut out of a newspaper." Still less could I say, "I +know a friend of your husband." + +Fortunately Sylvia did not heed my excitement. (She had learned by this +time to pretend not to notice.) "Please don't misunderstand me," she +was saying. "I really _don't_ know about these things. And I would do +something to help if I could." As she said this she looked with the +red-brown eyes straight into mine--a gaze so clear and frank and honest, +it was as if an angel had come suddenly to earth, and learned of the +horrible tangle into which we mortals have got our affairs. + +"Be careful what you're saying," put in our hostess, with a laugh. +"You're in dangerous hands." + +But Sylvia would not be warned. "I want to know more about it," she +said. "You must tell me what I can do." + +"Take her at her word," said Mrs. Allison, to me. "Strike while the iron +is hot!" I detected a note of triumph in her voice; if she could say +that she had got Mrs. van Tuiver to take up child-labour--that indeed +would be a feather to wear! + +"I will tell you all I can," I said. "That's my work in the world." + +"Take Mrs. Abbott away with you," said the energetic hostess, to Sylvia; +and before I quite understood what was happening, I had received and +accepted an invitation to drive in the park with Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver. In her role of _dea ex machina_ the hostess extricated me from +the other guests, and soon I was established in a big new motor, gliding +up Madison Avenue as swiftly and silently as a cloud-shadow over the +fields. As I write the words there lies upon my table a Socialist paper +with one of Will Dyson's vivid cartoons, representing two ladies of the +great world at a reception. Says the first, "These social movements are +becoming _quite_ worth while!" "Yes, indeed," says the other. "One meets +such good society!" + +7. Sylvia's part in this adventure was a nobler one than mine, Seated as +I was in a regal motor-car, and in company with one favoured of all +the gods in the world, I must have had an intense conviction of my own +saintliness not to distrust my excitement. But Sylvia, for her part, had +nothing to get from me but pain. I talked of the factory-fires and +the horrors of the sugar-refineries, and I saw shadow after shadow of +suffering cross her face. You may say it was cruel of me to tear the +veil from those lovely eyes, but in such a matter I felt myself the +angel of the Lord and His vengeance. + +"I didn't know about these things!" she cried again. And I found it was +true. It would have been hard for me to imagine anyone so ignorant +of the realities of modern life. The men and women she had met she +understood quite miraculously, but they were only two kinds, the "best +people" and their negro servants. There had been a whole regiment of +relatives on guard to keep her from knowing anybody else, or anything +else, and if by chance a dangerous fact broke into the family stockade, +they had formulas ready with which to kill it. + +"But now," Sylvia went on, "I've got some money, and I can help, so +I dare not be ignorant any longer. You must show me the way, and my +husband too. I'm sure he doesn't know what can be done." + +I said that I would do anything in my power. Her help would be +invaluable, not merely because of the money she might give, but because +of the influence of her name; the attention she could draw to any +cause she chose. I explained to her the aims and the methods of our +child-labour committee. We lobbied to get new legislation; we watched +officials to compel them to enforce the laws already existing; above +all, we worked for publicity, to make people realise what it meant that +the new generation was growing up without education, and stunted by +premature toil. And that was where she could help us most--if she would +go and see the conditions with her own eyes, and then appear before the +legislative committee this winter, in favour of our new bill! + +She turned her startled eyes upon me at this. Her ideas of doing good +in the world were the old-fashioned ones of visiting and almsgiving; +she had no more conception of modern remedies than she had of modern +diseases. "Oh, I couldn't possibly make a speech!" she exclaimed. + +"Why not?" I asked. + +"I never thought of such a thing. I don't know enough." + +"But you can learn." + +"I know, but that kind of work ought to be done by men." + +"We've given men a chance, and they have made the evils. Whose business +is it to protect the children if not the women's?" + +She hesitated a moment, and then said: "I suppose you'll laugh at me." + +"No, no," I promised; then as I looked at her I guessed. "Are you going +to tell me that woman's place is the home?" + +"That is what we think in Castleman County," she said, smiling in spite +of herself. + +"The children have got out of the home," I replied. "If they are ever to +get back, we women must go and fetch them." + +Suddenly she laughed--that merry laugh that was the April sunshine of +my life for many years. "Somebody made a Suffrage speech in our State +a couple of years ago, and I wish you could have seen the horror of my +people! My Aunt Nannie--she's Bishop Chilton's wife--thought it was the +most dreadful thing that had happened since Jefferson Davis was put in +irons. She talked about it for days, and at last she went upstairs and +shut herself in the attic. The younger children came home from school, +and wanted to know where mamma was. Nobody knew. Bye and bye, the cook +came. 'Marse Basil, what we gwine have fo' dinner? I done been up to +Mis' Nannie, an' she say g'way an' not pester her--she busy.' Company +came, and there was dreadful confusion--nobody knew what to do about +anything--and still Aunt Nannie was locked in! At last came dinner-time, +and everybody else came. At last up went the butler, and came down with +the message that they were to eat whatever they had, and take care of +the company somehow, and go to prayer-meeting, and let her alone--she +was writing a letter to the Castleman County _Register_ on the subject +of 'The Duty of Woman as a Homemaker'!" + +8. This was the beginning of my introduction to Castleman County. It was +a long time before I went there, but I learned to know its inhabitants +from Sylvia's stories of them. Funny stories, tragic stories, wild and +incredible stories out of a half-barbaric age! She would tell them and +we would laugh together; but then a wistful look would come into her +eyes, and a silence would fall. So very soon I made the discovery that +my Sylvia was homesick. In all the years that I knew her she never +ceased to speak of Castleman Hall as "home". All her standards came from +there, her new ideas were referred there. + +We talked of Suffrage for a while, and I spoke about the lives of women +on lonely farms--how they give their youth and health to their husband's +struggle, yet have no money partnership which they can enforce in +case of necessity. "But surely," cried Sylvia, "you don't want to make +divorce more easy!" + +"I want to make the conditions of it fair to women," I said. + +"But then more women will get it! And there are so many divorced women +now! Papa says that divorce is a greater menace than Socialism!" + +She spoke of Suffrage in England, where women were just beginning to +make public disturbances. Surely I did not approve of their leaving +their homes for such purposes as that! As tactfully as I could, I +suggested that conditions in England were peculiar. There was, for +example, the quaint old law which permitted a husband to beat his wife +subject to certain restrictions. Would an American woman submit to such +a law? There was the law which made it impossible for a woman to divorce +her husband for infidelity, unless accompanied by desertion or cruelty. +Surely not even her father would consider that a decent arrangement! I +mentioned a recent decision of the highest court in the land, that a man +who brought his mistress to live in his home, and compelled his wife +to wait upon her, was not committing cruelty within the meaning of the +English law. I heard Sylvia's exclamation of horror, and met her stare +of incredulity; and then suddenly I thought of Claire, and a little +chill ran over me. It was a difficult hour, in more ways than one, that +of my first talk with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + +I soon made the discovery that, childish as her ignorance was, there was +no prejudice in it. If you brought her a fact, she did not say that it +was too terrible to be true, or that the Bible said otherwise, or that +it was indecent to know about it. Nor, when you met her next, did you +discover that she had forgotten it. On the contrary, you discovered that +she had followed it to its remote consequences, and was ready with a +score of questions as to these. I remember saying to myself, that first +automobile ride: "If this girl goes on thinking, she will get into +trouble! She will have to stop, for the sake of others!" + +"You must meet my husband some time," she said; and added, "I'll have to +see my engagement-book. I have so much to do, I never know when I have a +moment free." + +"You must find it interesting," I ventured. + +"I did, for a while; but I've begun to get tired of so much going about. +For the most part I meet the same people, and I've found out what they +have to say." + +I laughed. "You have caught the society complaint already--_ennui_!" + +"I had it years ago, at home. It's true I never would have gone out at +all if it hadn't been for the sake of my family. That's why I envy a +woman like you--" + +I could not help laughing. It was too funny, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver +envying me! + +"What's the matter?" she asked. + +"Just the irony of life. Do you know, I cut you out of the newspaper, +and put you in a little frame on my bureau. I thought, here is the +loveliest face I've ever seen, and here is the most-to-be-envied of +women." + +She smiled, but quickly became serious. "I learned very early in life +that I was beautiful; and I suppose if I were suddenly to cease being +beautiful, I'd miss it; yet I often think it's a nuisance. It makes one +dependent on externals. Most of the beautiful women I've known make a +sort of profession of it--they live to shine and be looked at. + +"And you don't enjoy that?" I asked. + +"It restricts one's life. Men expect it of you, they resent your having +any other interest." + +"So," I responded, gravely, "with all your beauty and wealth, you aren't +perfectly happy?" + +"Oh, yes!" she cried--not having meant to confess so much. "I told +myself I would be happy, because I would be able to do so much good in +the world. There must be some way to do good with money! But now I'm +not sure; there seem to be so many things in the way. Just when you have +your mind made up that you have a way to help, someone comes and points +out to you that you may be really doing harm." + +She hesitated again, and I said, "That means you have been looking into +the matter of charity." + +She gave me a bright glance. "How you understand things!" she exclaimed. + +"It is possible," I replied, "to know modern society so well that when +you meet certain causes you know what results to look for." + +"I wish you'd explain to me why charity doesn't do any good!" + +"It would mean a lecture on the competitive wage-system," I laughed-- +"too serious a matter for a drive!" + +This may have seemed shirking on my part. But here I was, wrapped in +luxurious furs, rolling gloriously through the park at twilight on a +brilliant autumn evening; and the confiscation of property seems so much +more startling a proposition when you are in immediate contact with +it! This principle, which explains the "opportunism" of Socialist +cabinet-ministers and Labour M.P.s may be used to account for the sudden +resolve which I had taken, that for this afternoon at least Mrs. Douglas +van Tuiver should not discover that I was either a divorced woman, or a +soap-box orator of the revolution. + +9. Sylvia, in that first conversation, told me much about herself that +she did not know she was telling. I became fairly certain, for instance, +that she had not married Mr. Douglas van Tuiver for love. The young girl +who has so married does not suffer from ennui in the first year, nor +does she find her happiness depending upon her ability to solve the +problem of charity in connection with her husband's wealth. + +She would have ridden and talked longer, she said, but for a dinner +engagement. She asked me to call on her, and I promised to come some +morning, as soon as she set a day. When the car drew up before the +door of her home, I thought of my first ride about the city in the +"rubber-neck wagon," and how I had stared when the lecturer pointed out +this mansion. We, the passengers, had thrilled as one soul, imagining +the wonderful life which must go on behind those massive portals, the +treasures outshining the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, which required +those thick, bronze bars for their protection. And here was the mistress +of all the splendour, inviting me to come and see it from within! + +She wanted to send me home in the car, but I would not have that, on +account of the push-cart men and the babies in my street; I got out +and walked--my heart beating fast, my blood leaping with exultation. I +reached home, and there on the bureau was the picture--but behold, how +changed! It was become a miracle of the art of colour-photography; its +hair was golden, its eyes a wonderful red-brown, its cheeks aglow with +the radiance of youth! And yet more amazing, the picture spoke! It spoke +with the most delicious of Southern drawls--referring to the "repo't" of +my child-labour committee, shivering at the cold and bidding me pull the +"fu-uzz" up round me. And when I told funny stories about the Italians +and the Hebrews of my tenement-neighbourhood, it broke into silvery +laughter, and cried: "Oh, de-ah me! How que-ah!" Little had I dreamed, +when I left that picture in the morning, what a miracle was to be +wrought upon it. + +I knew, of course, what was the matter with me; the symptoms were +unmistakable. After having made up my mind that I was an old woman, and +that there was nothing more in life for me save labour--here the little +archer had come, and with the sharpest of his golden arrows, had shot +me through. I had all the thrills, the raptures and delicious agonies of +first love; I lived no longer in myself, but in the thought of another +person. Twenty times a day I looked at my picture, and cried aloud: "Oh, +beautiful, beautiful!" + +I do not know how much of her I have been able to give. I have told of +our first talk--but words are so cold and dead! I stop and ask: What +there is, in all nature, that has given me the same feeling? I remember +how I watched the dragon-fly emerging from its chrysalis. It is soft and +green and tender; it clings to a branch and dries its wings in the sun, +and when the miracle is completed, there for a brief space it poises, +shimmering with a thousand hues, quivering with its new-born ecstasy. +And just so was Sylvia; a creature from some other world than ours, +as yet unsoiled by the dust and heat of reality. It came to me with +a positive shock, as a terrifying thing, that there should be in this +world of strife and wickedness any young thing that took life with +such intensity, that was so palpitating with eagerness, with hope, with +sympathy. Such was the impression that one got of her, even when her +words most denied it. She might be saying world-weary and cynical +things, out of the maxims of Lady Dee; but there was still the +eagerness, the sympathy, surging beneath and lifting her words. + +The crown of her loveliness was her unconsciousness of self. Even though +she might be talking of herself, frankly admitting her beauty, she was +really thinking of other people, how she could get to them to help them. +This I must emphasize, because, apart from jesting, I would not have it +thought that I had fallen under the spell of a beautiful countenance, +combined with a motor-car and a patrician name. There were things about +Sylvia that were aristocratic, that could be nothing else; but she could +be her same lovely self in a cottage--as I shall prove to you before I +finish with the story of her life. + +I was in love. At that time I was teaching myself German, and I sat one +day puzzling out two lines of Goethe: + +"Oden and Thor, these two thou knowest; Freya, the heavenly, knowest +thou not." + +And I remember how I cried aloud in sudden delight: _"I know her!"_ For +a long time that was one of my pet names--"Freya dis Himmlische!" I only +heard of one other that I preferred--when in course of time she told me +about Frank Shirley, and how she had loved him, and how their hopes had +been wrecked. He had called her "Lady Sunshine"; he had been wont to +call it over and over in his happiness, and as Sylvia repeated it to +me--"Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!" I could imagine that I caught an +echo of the very tones of Frank Shirley's voice. + +10. For several days I waited upon the postman, and when the summons +came I dodged a committee-meeting, and ascended the marble stairs with +trepidation, and underwent the doubting scrutiny of an English lackey, +sufficiently grave in deportment and habiliments to have waited upon a +bishop in his own land. I have a vague memory of an entrance-hall with +panelled paintings and a double-staircase with a snow-white carpet, +about which I had read in the newspapers that it was woven in one piece, +and had cost an incredible sum. One did not have to profane it with his +feet, as there was an elevator provided. + +I was shown to Sylvia's morning-room, which had been "done" in pink and +white and gold by some decorator who had known her colours. It was large +enough to have held half-a-dozen of my own quarters, and the sun was +allowed to flood it. Through a door at one side came Sylvia, holding out +her hands to me. + +She was really glad to see me! She began to apologize at once for the +time she had taken to write. It was because she had so much to do. She +had married into a world that took itself seriously: the "idle rich," +who worked like slaves. "You know," she said, while we sat on a pink +satin couch, and a footman brought us coffee: "you read that Mrs. +So-and-so is a 'social queen,' and you think it's a newspaper phrase, +but it isn't; she really feels that she's a queen, and other people +feel it, and she goes through her ceremonies as solemnly as the Lord's +anointed." + +She went on to tell me some of her adventures. She had a keen sense of +fun, and was evidently suffering for an outlet for it. She saw through +the follies and pretences of people in a flash, but they were all such +august and important people that, out of regard for her husband, she +dared not let them suspect her clairvoyant power. + +She referred to her experiences abroad. She had not liked Europe--being +quite frankly a provincial person. To Castleman County a foreigner was +a strange, dark person who mixed up his consonants, and was under +suspicion of being a fiddler or an opera-singer. The people she had met +under her husband's charge had been socially indubitable, but still, +they were foreigners, and Sylvia could never really be sure what they +meant. + +There was, for instance, the young son of a German steel-king, a person +of amazing savoir faire, who had made bold to write books and exhibit +pictures, and had travelled so widely that he had even heard of +Castleman County. He had taken Sylvia to show her the sights of Berlin, +and had rolled her down the "Sieges Allee," making outrageous fun of his +Kaiser's taste in art, and coming at last to a great marble column, with +a female figure representing Victory upon the top. "You will observe," +said the cultured young plutocrat, "that the Grecian lady stands a +hundred meters in the air, and has no stairway. There is a popular +saying about her which is delightful--that she is the only chaste woman +in Berlin!" + +I had been through the culture-seeking stage, and knew my Henry James; +so I could read between the lines of Sylvia's experiences. I figured +her as a person walking on volcanic ground, not knowing her peril, but +vaguely disquieted by a smell of sulphur in the air. And once in a while +a crack would open in the ground! There was the Duke of Something in +Rome, for example, a melancholy young man, with whom she had coquetted, +as she did, in her merry fashion, with every man she met. Being married, +she had taken it for granted that she might be as winsome as she chose; +but the young Italian had misunderstood the game, and had whispered +words of serious import, which had so horrified Sylvia that she flew +to her husband and told him the story--begging him incidentally not to +horse-whip the fellow. In reply it had to be explained to her she had +laid herself liable to the misadventure. The ladies of the Italian +aristocracy were severe and formal, and Sylvia had no right to expect an +ardent young duke to understand her native wildness. + +11. Something of that sort was always happening--something in each +country to bewilder her afresh, and to make it necessary for her husband +to remind her of the proprieties. In France, a cousin of van Tuiver's +had married a marquis, and they had visited the chateau. The family was +Catholic, of the very oldest and strictest, and the brother-in-law, a +prelate of high degree, had invited the guests to be shown through his +cathedral. "Imagine my bewilderment!" said Sylvia. "I thought I was +going to meet a church dignitary, grave and reverent; but here was a +wit, a man of the world. Such speeches you never heard! I was ravished +by the grandeur of the building, and I said: 'If I had seen this, I +would have come to you to be married.' 'Madame is an American,' +he replied. 'Come the next time!' When I objected that I was not a +Catholic, he said: 'Your beauty is its own religion!' When I protested +that he would be doing me too great an honour, 'Madame,' said he, 'the +_honneur_ would be all to the church!' And because I was shocked at all +this, I was considered to be a provincial person!" + +Then they had come to London, a dismal, damp city where you "never saw +the sun, and when you did see it it looked like a poached egg"; where +you had to learn to eat fish with the help of a knife, and where you +might speak of bitches, but must never on any account speak of your +stomach. They went for a week-end to "Hazelhurst," the home of the +Dowager Duchess of Danbury, whose son van Tuiver, had entertained in +America, and who, in the son's absence, claimed the right to repay the +debt. The old lady sat at table with two fat poodle dogs in infants' +chairs, one on each side of her, feeding out of golden trays. There +was a visiting curate, a frightened little man at the other side of one +poodle; in an effort to be at ease he offered the wheezing creature a +bit of bread. "Don't feed my dogs!" snapped the old lady. "I don't allow +anybody to feed my dogs!" + +And then there was the Honourable Reginald Annersley, the youngest son +of the family, home from Eton on vacation. The Honourable Reginald was +twelve years of age, undersized and ill-nourished. ("They feed them +badly," his mother had explained, "an' the teachin's no good either, +but it's a school for gentlemen.") "Honestly," said Sylvia, "he was the +queerest little mannikin--like the tiny waiter's assistants you see in +hotels on the Continent. He wore his Eton suit, you understand--grown-up +evening clothes minus the coat-tails, and a top hat. He sat at tea and +chatted with the mincing graces of a cotillion-leader; you expected to +find some of his hair gone when he took off his hat! He spoke of his +brother, the duke, who had gone off shooting seals somewhere. 'The jolly +rotter has nothing to do but spend his money; but we younger sons have +to work like dogs when we grow up!' I asked what he'd do, and he said 'I +suppose there's nothin' but the church. It's a beastly bore, but you do +get a livin' out of it.' + +"That was too much for me," said Sylvia. "I proceeded to tell the poor, +blase infant about my childhood; how my sister Celeste and I had caught +half-tamed horses and galloped about the pasture on them, when we were +so small that our little fat legs stuck out horizontally; how we had +given ourselves convulsions in the green apple orchard, and had to be +spanked every day before we had our hair combed. I told how we heard +a war-story about a 'train of gunpowder,' and proceeded to lay such a +train about the attic of Castleman Hall, and set fire to it. I might +have spent the afternoon teaching the future churchman how to be a boy, +if I hadn't suddenly caught a glimpse of my husband's face!" + +12. I did not hear these stories all at once. I have put them together +here because they make a little picture of her honeymoon, and also +because they show how, without meaning it, she was giving me an account +of her husband. + +There had been even fewer adventures in the life of young Douglas van +Tuiver than in the life of the Honourable Reginald Annersley. When one +heard the details of the up-bringing of this "millionaire baby," one was +able to forgive him for being self-centred. He had grown into a man who +lived to fulfil his social duties, and he had taken to wife a girl who +was reckless, high-spirited, with a streak of almost savage pride in +her. + +Sylvia's was the true aristocratic attitude towards the rest of the +world. It could never have occurred to her to imagine that anywhere +upon the whole earth there were people superior to the Castlemans of +Castleman County. If you had been ignorant enough to suggest such an +idea, you would have seen her eyes flash and her nostrils quiver; you +would have been enveloped in a net of bewilderment and transfixed with +a trident of mockery and scorn. That was what she had done in her +husband-hunt. The trouble was that van Tuiver was not clever enough +to realise this, and to trust her prowess against other beasts in the +social jungle. + +Strange to me were such inside glimpses into the life of these two +favourites of the gods! I never grew weary of speculating about them, +and the mystery of their alliance. How had Sylvia come to make this +marriage? She was not happy with him; keen psychologist that she was, +she must have foreseen that she would not be happy with him. Had she +deliberately sacrificed herself, because of the good she imagined she +could do to her family? + +I was beginning to believe this. Irritated as she was by the solemn +snobberies of van Tuiver's world, it was none the less true that she +believed in money; she believed in it with a faith which appalled me as +I came to realise it. Everybody had to have money; the social graces, +the aristocratic virtues were impossible without it. The rich needed +it--even the poor needed it! Could it be that the proud Castlemans of +Castleman County had needed it also? + +If that guess at her inmost soul was correct, then what a drama was her +meeting with me! A person who despised money, who had proven it by grim +deeds--and this a person of her own money-worshipping sex! What was the +meaning of this phenomenon--this new religion that was challenging the +priesthood of Mammon? So some Roman consul's daughter might have sat in +her father's palace, and questioned in wonder a Christian slave woman, +destined ere long to face the lions in the arena. + +The exactness of this simile was not altered by the fact that in this +case the slave woman was an agnostic, while the patrician girl had +been brought up in the creed of Christ. Sylvia had long since begun to +question the formulas of a church whose very pews were rented, and whose +existence, she declared, had to be justified by charity to the poor. As +we sat and talked, she knew this one thing quite definitely--that I had +a religion, and she had none. That was the reason for the excitement +which possessed her. + +Nor was that fact ever out of my own mind for a moment. As she sat there +in her sun-flooded morning-room, clad in an exquisite embroidered robe +of pink Japanese silk, she was such a lovely thing that I was ready to +cry out for joy of her; and yet there was something within me, grim and +relentless, that sat on guard, warning me that she was of a different +faith from mine, and that between those two faiths there could be no +compromise. Some day she must find out what I thought of her husband's +wealth, and the work it was doing in the world! Some day she must hear +my real opinion of the religion of motor-cars and hand-woven carpets! + +13. Nor was the day so very far off. She sat opposite me, leaning +forward in her eagerness, declaring: "You must help to educate me. I +shall never rest until I'm of some real use in the world." + +"What have you thought of doing?" I inquired. + +"I don't know yet. My husband has an aunt who's interested in a +day-nursery for the children of working-women. I thought I might help +this, but my husband says it does no good whatever--it only makes +paupers of the poor. Do you think so?" + +"I think more than that," I replied. "It sets women free to compete with +men, and beat down men's wages." + +"Oh, what a puzzle!" she exclaimed, and then: "Is there any way of +helping the poor that wouldn't be open to the same objection?" + +That brought us once more to the subject I had put aside at our last +meeting. She had not forgotten it, and asked again for an explanation. +What did I mean by the competitive wage system? + +My purpose in this writing is to tell the story of Sylvia Castleman's +life, to show, not merely what she was, but what she became. I have to +make real to you a process of growth in her soul, and at this moment the +important event is her discovery of the class-struggle and her reaction +to it. You may say, perhaps, that you are not interested in the +class-struggle, but you cannot alter the fact that you live in an age +when millions of people are having the course of their lives changed by +the discovery of it. Here, for instance, is a girl who has been taught +to keep her promises, and has promised to love, honour and obey a man; +she is to find the task more difficult, because she comes to understand +the competitive wage-system while he does not understand it and does not +wish to. If that seems to you strange material out of which to make a +domestic drama, I can only tell you that you have missed some of the +vital facts of your own time. + +I gave her a little lesson in elementary economics. I showed her how, +when a capitalist needed labour, he bought it in the open market, like +any other commodity. He did not think about the human side of it, he +paid the market-price, which came to be what the labourer had to have +in order to live. No labourer could get more, because others would take +less. + +"If that be true," I continued, "one of the things that follows is the +futility of charity. Whatever you do for the wage-worker on a general +scale comes sooner or later out of his wages. If you take care of his +children all day or part of the day, he can work for less; if he doesn't +discover that someone else does, and underbids him and takes his place. +If you feed his children at school, if you bury him free, if you insure +his life, or even give him a dinner on Christmas Day, you simply enable +his landlord to charge him more, or his employer to pay him less." + +Sylvia sat for a while in thought, and then asked: "What can be done +about such a fact?" + +"The first thing to be done is to make sure that you understand it. +Nine-tenths of the people who concern themselves with social questions +don't, and so they waste their time in futilities. For instance, I read +the other day an article by a benevolent old gentleman who believed that +the social problem could be solved by teaching the poor to chew their +food better, so that they would eat less. You may laugh at that, but +it's not a bit more absurd than the idea of our men of affairs, that the +thing to do is to increase the efficiency of the workers, and so produce +more goods." + +"You mean the working-man doesn't get more, even when he produces more?" + +"Take the case of the glass factories. Men used to get eight dollars a +day there, but someone invented a machine that did the work of a dozen +men, and that machine is run by a boy for fifty cents a day." + +A little pucker of thought came between her eyes. "Might there not be a +law forbidding the employer to reduce wages?" + +"A minimum wage law. But that would raise the cost of the product, and +drive the trade to another state." + +She suggested a national law, and when I pointed out that the trade +would go to other countries, she fell back on the tariff. I felt like an +embryologist--watching the individual repeating the history of the race! + +"Protection and prosperity!" I said, with a smile. "Don't you see the +increase in the cost of living? The working-man gets more money in his +pay envelope, but he can't buy more with it because prices go up. And +even supposing you could pass a minimum wage law, and stop competition +in wages, you'd only change it to competition in efficiency--you'd throw +the old and the feeble and the untrained into pauperism." + +"You make the world seem a hard place to live in," protested Sylvia. + +"I'm simply telling you the elementary facts of business. You can forbid +the employer to pay less than a standard wage, but you can't compel him +to employ people who aren't able to earn that wage. The business-man +doesn't employ for fun, he does it for the profit there is in it." + +"If that is true," said Sylvia, quickly, "then the way of employing +people is cruel." + +"But what other way could you have?" + +She considered. "They could be employed so that no one would make a +profit. Then surely they could be paid enough to live decently!" + +"But whose interest would it be to employ them without profit?" + +"The State should do it, if no one else will." + +I had been playing a game with Sylvia, as no doubt you have perceived. +"Surely," I said, "you wouldn't approve anything like that!" + +"But why not?" + +"Because, it would be Socialism." + +She looked at me startled. "Is that Socialism?" + +"Of course it is. It's the essence of Socialism." + +"But then--what's the harm in it?" + +I laughed. "I thought you said that Socialism was a menace, like +divorce!" + +I had my moment of triumph, but then I discovered how fond was the +person who imagined that he could play with Sylvia. "I suspect you are +something of a Socialist yourself," she remarked. + +She told me a long time afterwards what had been her emotions during +these early talks. It was the first time in her life that she had ever +listened to ideas that were hostile to her order, and she did so with +tremblings and hesitations, combating at every step an impulse to flee +to the shelter of conventionality. She was more shocked by my last +revelation than she let me suspect. It counted for little that I +had succeeded in trapping her in proposing for herself the economic +programme of Socialism, for what terrifies her class is not our economic +programme, it is our threat of slave-rebellion. I had been brought up +in a part of the world where democracy is a tradition, a word to conjure +with, and I supposed that this would be the case with any American--that +I would only have to prove that Socialism was democracy applied to +industry. How could I have imagined the kind of "democracy" which had +been taught to Sylvia by her Uncle Mandeville, the politician of the +family, who believed that America was soon to have a king, to keep the +"foreign riff-raff" in its place! + +14. At this time I was living in a three-roomed apartment in one of the +new "model tenements" on the East Side. I had a saying about the place, +that it was "built for the proletariat and occupied by cranks." What an +example for Sylvia of the futility of charity--the effort on the part +of benevolent capitalists to civilise the poor by putting bath-tubs in +their homes, and the discovery that the graceless creatures were using +them for the storage of coals! + +Having heard these strange stories, Sylvia was anxious to visit me, and +I was, of course, glad to invite her. I purchased a fancy brand of tea, +and some implements for the serving of it, and she came, and went into +raptures over my three rooms and bath, no one of which would have made +more than a closet in her own apartments. I suspected that this was her +Southern _noblesse oblige_, but I knew also that in my living room +there were some rows of books, which would have meant more to Sylvia van +Tuiver just then than the contents of several clothes-closets. + +I was pleased to discover that my efforts had not been wasted. She +had been thinking, and she had even found time, in the midst of her +distractions, to read part of a book. In the course of our talks I had +mentioned Veblen, and she had been reading snatches of his work on the +Leisure Class, and I was surprised, and not a little amused, to observe +her reaction to it. + +When I talked about wages and hours of labour, I was dealing with things +that were remote from her, and difficult to make real; but Veblen's +theme, the idle rich, and the arts and graces whereby they demonstrate +their power, was the stuff of which her life was made. The subtleties of +social ostentation, the minute distinctions between the newly-rich +and the anciently-rich, the solemn certainties of the latter and the +quivering anxieties of the former--all those were things which Sylvia +knew as a bird knows the way of the wind. To see the details of them +analysed in learned, scientific fashion, explained with great mouthfuls +of words which one had to look up in the dictionary--that was surely +a new discovery in the book-world! "Conspicuous leisure!" "Vicarious +consumption of goods!" "Oh, de-ah me, how que-ah!" exclaimed Sylvia. + +And what a flood of anecdotes it let loose! A flood that bore us +straight back to Castleman Hall, and to all the scenes of her young +ladyhood! If only Lady Dee could have revised this book of Veblen's, how +many points she could have given to him! No details had been too minute +for the technique of Sylvia's great-aunt--the difference between the +swish of the right kind of silk petticoats and the wrong kind; and yet +her technique had been broad enough to take in a landscape. "Every girl +should have a background," had been one of her maxims, and Sylvia had to +have a special phaeton to drive, a special horse to ride, special roses +which no one else was allowed to wear. + +"Conspicuous expenditure of time," wrote Veblen. It was curious, said +Sylvia, but nobody was free from this kind of vanity. There was dear old +Uncle Basil, a more godly bishop never lived, and yet he had a foible +for carving! In his opinion the one certain test of a gentleman was the +ease with which he found the joints of all kinds of meat, and he was in +arms against the modern tendency to turn such accomplishments over to +butlers. He would hold forth on the subject, illustrating his theories +with an elegant knife, and Sylvia remembered how her father and the +Chilton boys had wired up the joints of a duck for the bishop to work +on. In the struggle the bishop had preserved his dignity, but lost the +duck, and the bishop's wife, being also high-born, and with a long line +of traditions behind her, had calmly continued the conversation, while +the butler removed the smoking duck from her lap! + +Such was the way of things at Castleman Hall! The wild, care-free +people--like half-grown children, romping their way through life! There +was really nothing too crazy for them to do, if the whim struck them. +Once a visiting cousin had ventured the remark that she saw no reason +why people should not eat rats; a barn-rat was clean in its person, +and far choicer in its food than a pig. Thereupon "Miss Margaret" had +secretly ordered the yard-man to secure a barn-rat; she had had it +broiled, and served in a dish of squirrels, and had sat by and watched +the young lady enjoy it! And this, mind you, was Mrs. Castleman of +Castleman Hall, mother of five children, and as stately a dame as ever +led the grand march at the Governor's inaugural ball! "Major Castleman," +she would say to her husband, "you may take me into my bedroom, and when +you have locked the door securely, you may spit upon me, if you wish; +but don't you dare even to _imagine_ anything undignified about me in +public!" + +15. In course of time Sylvia and I became very good friends. Proud as +she was, she was lonely, and in need of some one to open her eager mind +to. Who was there safer to trust than this plain Western woman, who +lived so far, both in reality and in ideas, from the great world of +fashion? + +Before we parted she considered it necessary to mention my relationship +to this world. She had a most acute social conscience. She knew exactly +what formalities she owed to everyone, just when she ought to call, and +how long she ought to stay, and what she ought to ask the other person +to do in return; she assumed that the other knew it all exactly as well, +and would suffer if she failed in the slightest degree. + +So now she had to throw herself upon my mercy. "You see," she explained, +"my husband wouldn't understand. I may be able to change him gradually, +but if I shock him all at once--" + +"My dear Mrs. van Tuiver--" I smiled. + +"You can't really imagine!" she persisted. "You see, he takes his social +position so seriously! And when you are conspicuous--when everybody's +talking about what you do--when everything that's the least bit unusual +is magnified--" + +"My dear girl!" I broke in again. "Stop a moment and let me talk!" + +"But I hate to have to think--" + +"Don't worry about my thoughts! They are most happy ones! You must +understand that a Socialist cannot feel about such things as you do; we +work out our economic interpretation of them, and after that they are +simply so much data to us. I might meet one of your great friends, and +she might snub me, but I would never think she had snubbed _me_--it +would be my Western accent, and my forty-cent hat, and things like +that which had put me in a class in her mind. My real self nobody can +snub--certainly not until they've got at it." + +"Ah!" said Sylvia, with shining eyes. "You have your own kind of +aristocracy, I see!" + +"What I want," I said, "is you. I'm an old hen whose chickens have grown +up and left her, and I want something to mother. Your wonderful social +world is just a bother to me, because it keeps me from gathering you +into my arms as I'd like to. So what you do is to think of some role for +me to play, so that I can come to see you; let me be advising you about +your proposed day-nursery, or let me be a tutor of something, or a nice, +respectable sewing-woman who darns the toes of your silk stockings!" + +She laughed. "If you suppose that I'm allowed to wear my stockings until +they have holes in them, you don't understand the perquisites of maids." +She thought a moment, and then added: "You might come to trim hats for +me." + +By that I knew that we were really friends. If it does not seem to you +a bold thing for Sylvia to have made a joke about my hat, it is +only because you do not yet know her. I have referred to her +money-consciousness and her social-consciousness; I would be idealizing +her if I did not refer to another aspect of her which appalled me when I +came to realise it--her clothes-consciousness. She knew every variety of +fabric and every shade of colour and every style of design that ever +had been delivered of the frenzied sartorial imagination. She had been +trained in all the infinite minutiae which distinguished the right from +the almost right; she would sweep a human being at one glance, and stick +him in a pigeon hole of her mind for ever--because of his clothes. When +later on she had come to be conscious of this clothes-consciousness, +she told me that ninety-nine times out of a hundred she had found this +method of appraisal adequate for the purposes of society life. What a +curious comment upon our civilization--that all that people had to +ask of one another, all they had to give to one another, should be +expressible in terms of clothes! + +16. I had set out to educate Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver in the things I +thought she needed to know. A part of my programme was to find some +people of modern sympathies whom she might meet without offence to +her old prejudices. The first person I thought of was Mrs. Jessie +Frothingham, who was the head of a fashionable girls' school, just +around the corner from Miss Abercrombie's where Sylvia herself had +received the finishing touch. Mrs. Frothingham's was as exclusive and +expensive a school as the most proper person could demand, and great was +Sylvia's consternation when I told her that its principal was a member +of the Socialist party, and made no bones about speaking in public for +us. + +How in the world did she manage it? For one thing, I answered, she ran +a good school--nobody had ever been heard to deny that. For another, she +was an irresistibly serene and healthy person, who would look one of her +millionaire "papas" in the eye and tell him what was what with so much +decision; it would suddenly occur to the great man that if his daughter +could be made into so capable a woman, he would not care what ticket she +might vote. + +Then too, it was testimony to the headway we are making that we are +ceasing to be dangerous, and getting to be picturesque. In these days of +strenuous social competition, when mammas are almost at their wits' end +for some new device, when it costs incredible sums to make no impression +at all--here was offered a new and inexpensive way of being unique. +There could be no question that men were getting to like serious women; +the most amazing subjects were coming up at dinner-parties, and you +might hear the best people speak disrespectfully of their own money, +which means that the new Revolution will have not merely its "Egalite +Orleans," but also some of the ladies of his family! + +I telephoned from Sylvia's house to Mrs. Frothingham, who answered: +"Wouldn't you like Mrs. van Tuiver to hear a speech? I am to speak next +week at the noon-day Wall Street meeting." I passed the question on, and +Sylvia answered with an exclamation of delight: "Would a small boy like +to attend a circus?" + +It was arranged that Sylvia was to take us in her car. You may picture +me with my grand friends--an old speckled hen in the company of two +golden pheasants. I kept very quiet and let them get acquainted, knowing +that my cause was safe in the hands of one so perfectly tailored as Mrs. +Frothingham. + +Sylvia expressed her delight at the idea of hearing a Socialist speech, +and her amazement that the head of Mrs. Frothingham's should be so +courageous, and meantime we threaded our way through the tangle of +trucks and surface-cars on Broadway, and came to the corner of Wall +Street. Here Mrs. Frothingham said she would get out and walk; it was +quite likely that someone might recognise Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, and +she ought not to be seen arriving with the speaker. Sylvia, who +would not willingly have committed a breach of etiquette towards a +bomb-throwing anarchist, protested at this, but Mrs. Frothingham laughed +good-naturedly, saying that it would be time enough for Mrs. van Tuiver +to commit herself when she knew what she believed. + +The speaking was to be from the steps of the Sub-treasury. We made +a _detour,_ and came up Broad Street, stopping a little way from the +corner. These meetings had been held all through the summer and fall, so +that people had learned to expect them; although it lacked some minutes +of noon, there was already a crowd gathered. A group of men stood upon +the broad steps, one with a red banner and several others with armfuls +of pamphlets and books. With them was our friend, who looked at us and +smiled, but gave no other sign of recognition. + +Sylvia pushed back the collar of her sable coat, and sat erect in her +shining blue velvet, her eyes and her golden hair shining beneath +the small brim of a soft velvet hat. As she gazed eagerly at the busy +throngs of men hurrying about this busy corner, she whispered to me: "I +haven't been so excited since my _debut_ party!" + +The crowd increased until it was difficult to get through Wall Street. +The bell of Old Trinity was tolling the hour of noon, and the meeting +was about to begin, when suddenly I heard an exclamation from Sylvia, +and turning, saw a well-dressed man pushing his way from the office of +Morgan and Company towards us. Sylvia clutched my hand where it lay on +the seat of the car, and half gasped: "My husband!" + +17. Of course I had been anxious to see Douglas van Tuiver. I had heard +Claire Lepage's account of him, and Sylvia's, also I had seen pictures +of him in the newspapers, and had studied them with some care, trying +to imagine what sort of personage he might be. I knew that he was +twenty-four, but the man who came towards us I would have taken to be +forty. His face was sombre, with large features and strongly marked +lines about the mouth; he was tall and thin, and moved with decision, +betraying no emotion even in this moment of surprise. "What are you +doing here?" were his first words. + +For my part, I was badly "rattled"; I knew by the clutch of Sylvia's +hand that she was too. But here I got a lesson in the nature of "social +training." Some of the bright colour had faded from her face, but she +spoke with the utmost coolness, the words coming naturally and simply: +"We can't get through the crowd." And at the same time she looked about +her, as much as to say: "You can see for yourself." (One of the maxims +of Lady Dee had set forth that a lady never told a lie if she could +avoid it.) + +Sylvia's husband looked about, saying: "Why don't you call an officer?" +He started to follow his own suggestion, and I thought then that my +friend would miss her meeting. But she had more nerve than I imagined. + +"No," she said. "Please don't." + +"Why not?" Still there was no emotion in the cold, grey eyes. + +"Because--I think there's something going on." + +"What of that?" + +"I'm not in a hurry, and I'd like to see." + +He stood for a moment looking at the crowd. Mrs. Frothingham had come +forward, evidently intending to speak. "What is this, Ferris?" he +demanded of the chauffeur. + +"I'm not sure, sir," said the man. "I think it's a Socialist meeting." +(He was, of course, not missing the little comedy. I wondered what he +thought!) + +"A Socialist meeting?" said van Tuiver; then, to his wife: "You don't +want to stay for that!" + +Again Sylvia astonished me. "I'd like to very much," she answered +simply. + +He made no reply. I saw him stare at her, and then I saw his glance +take me in. I sat in a corner as inconspicuous as I could make myself. +I wondered whether I was a sempstress or a tutor, and whether either +of these functionaries were introduced, and whether they shook hands or +not. + +Mrs. Frothingham had taken her stand at the base of Washington's statue. +Had she by any chance identified the tall and immaculate gentleman who +stood beside the automobile? Before she had said three sentences I made +sure that she had done so, and I was appalled at her audacity. + +"Fellow citizens," she began--"fellow-buccaneers of Wall Street." And +when the mild laughter had subsided: "What I have to say is going to +be addressed to one individual among you--the American millionaire. +I assume there is one present--if no actual millionaire, then surely +several who are destined to be, and not less than a thousand who aspire +to be. So hear me, Mr. Millionaire," this with a smile, which gave you +a sense of a reserve fund of energy and good humour. She had the +crowd with her from the start--all but one. I stole a glance at the +millionaire, and saw that he was not smiling. + +"Won't you get in?" asked his wife, and he answered coldly: "No, I'll +wait till you've had enough." + +"Last summer I had a curious experience," said the speaker. "I was +a guest at a tennis match, played upon the grounds of a State +insane-asylum, the players being the doctors of the institution. Here, +on a beautiful sunshiny afternoon, were ladies and gentlemen clad in +festive white, enjoying a holiday, while in the background stood a +frowning building with iron-barred gates and windows, from which +one heard now and then the howlings of the maniacs. Some of the less +fortunate of these victims of fate had been let loose, and while we +played tennis, they chased the balls. All afternoon, while I sipped tea +and chatted and watched the games, I said to myself: 'Here is the most +perfect simile of our civilization that has ever come to me. Some people +wear white and play tennis all day, while other people chase the balls, +or howl in dungeons in the background!' And that is the problem I wish +to put before my American millionaire--the problem of what I will call +our lunatic-asylum stage of civilization. Mind you, this condition +is all very well so long as we can say that the lunatics are +incurable--that there is nothing we can do but shut our ears to their +howling, and go ahead with our tennis. But suppose the idea were to +dawn upon us that it is only because we played tennis all day that the +lunatic-asylum is crowded, then might not the howls grow unendurable to +us, and the game lose its charm?" + +Stealing glances about me, I saw that several people were watching the +forty-or-fifty-times-over millionaire; they had evidently recognised +him, and were enjoying the joke. "Haven't you had enough of this?" he +suddenly demanded of his wife, and she answered, guilelessly: "No, let's +wait. I'm interested." + +"Now, listen to me, Mr. American Millionaire," the speaker was +continuing. "You are the one who plays tennis, and we, who chase the +balls for you--we are the lunatics. And my purpose to-day is to prove +to you that it is only because you play tennis all day that we have +to chase balls all the day, and to tell you that some time soon we are +going to cease to be lunatics, and that then you will have to chase your +own balls! And don't, in your amusement over this illustration, lose +sight of the serious nature of what I am talking about--the horrible +economic lunacy which is known as poverty, and which is responsible +for most of the evils we have in this world to-day--for crime and +prostitution, suicide, insanity and war. My purpose is to show you, not +by any guess of mine, or any appeals to your faith, but by cold business +facts which can be understood in Wall Street, that this economic lunacy +is one which can be cured; that we have the remedy in our hands, and +lack nothing but the intelligence to apply it." + +18. I do not want to bore you with a Socialist speech. I only want to +give you an idea of the trap into which Mr. Douglas van Tuiver had +been drawn. He stood there, rigidly aloof while the speaker went on +to explain the basic facts of wealth-production in modern society. She +quoted from Kropotkin: "'Fields, Factories and Work-shops,' on sale +at this meeting for a quarter!"--showing how by modern intensive +farming--no matter of theory, but methods which were in commercial +use in hundreds of places--it would be possible to feed the entire +population of the globe from the soil of the British Isles alone. She +showed by the bulletins of the United States Government how the machine +process had increased the productive power of the individual labourer +ten, twenty, a hundred fold. So vast was man's power of producing wealth +today, and yet the labourer lived in dire want just as in the days of +crude hand-industry! + +So she came back to her millionaire, upon whom this evil rested. He was +the master of the machine for whose profit the labourer had to produce. +He could only employ the labourer to produce what could be sold at a +profit; and so the stream of prosperity was choked at its source. "It +is you, Mr. Millionaire, who are to blame for poverty; it is because +so many millions of dollars must be paid to you in profits that so +many millions of men must live in want. In other words, precisely as I +declared at the outset, it is your playing tennis which is responsible +for the lunatics chasing the balls!" + +I wish that I might give some sense of the speaker's mastery of this +situation, the extent to which she had communicated her good-humour to +the crowd. You heard ripple after ripple of laughter, you saw everywhere +about you eager faces, following every turn of the argument. No +one could resist the contagion of interest--save only the American +millionaire! He stood impassive, never once smiling, never once +betraying a trace of feeling. Venturing to watch him more closely, +however, I could see the stern lines deepening about his mouth, and his +long, lean face growing more set. + +The speaker had outlined the remedy--a change from the system of +production for profit to one of production for use. She went on to +explain how the change was coming; the lunatic classes were beginning +to doubt the divine nature of the rules of the asylum, and they were +preparing to mutiny, and take possession of the place. And here I saw +that Sylvia's husband had reached his limit. He turned to her: "Haven't +you had enough of this?" + +"Why, no," she began. "If you don't mind--" + +"I do mind very much," he said, abruptly. "I think you are committing +a breach of taste to stay here, and I would be greatly obliged if you +would leave." + +And without really waiting for Sylvia's reply, he directed, "Back out of +here, Ferris." + +The chauffeur cranked up, and sounded his horn--which naturally had the +effect of disturbing the meeting. People supposed we were going to try +to get through the crowd ahead--and there was no place where anyone +could move. But van Tuiver went to the rear of the car, saying, in a +voice of quiet authority: "A little room here, please." And so, foot by +foot, we backed away from the meeting, and when we had got clear of the +throng, the master of the car stepped in, and we turned and made our way +down Broad Street. + +And now I was to get a lesson in the aristocratic ideal. Of course van +Tuiver was angry; I believe he even suspected his wife of having known +of the meeting. I supposed he would ask some questions; I supposed that +at least he would express his opinion of the speech, his disgust that +a woman of education should make such a spectacle of herself. Such +husbands as I had been familiar with had never hesitated to vent their +feelings under such circumstances. But from Douglas van Tuiver there +came--not a word! He sat, perfectly straight, staring before him, like +a sphinx; and Sylvia, after one or two swift glances at him, began to +gossip cheerfully about her plans for the day-nursery for working-women! + +So for a few blocks, until suddenly she leaned forward. "Stop here, +Ferris." And then, turning to me, "Here is the American Trust Company." + +"The American Trust Company?" I echoed, in my dumb stupidity. + +"Yes--that is where the check is payable," said Sylvia, and gave me a +pinch. + +And so I comprehended, and gathered up my belongings and got out. She +shook my hand warmly, and her husband raised his hat in a very formal +salute, after which the car sped on up the street. I stood staring after +it, in somewhat the state of mind of any humble rustic who may have been +present when Elijah was borne into the heavens by the chariot of fire! + +19. Sylvia had been something less than polite to me; and so I had not +been home more than an hour before there came a messenger-boy with a +note. By way of reassuring her, I promised to come to see her the next +morning; and when I did, and saw her lovely face so full of concern, I +forgot entirely her worldly greatness, and did what I had longed to do +from the beginning--put my arms about her and kissed her. + +"My dear girl," I protested, "I don't want to be a burden in your +life--I want to help you!'" + +"But," she exclaimed, "what must you have thought--" + +"I thought I had made a lucky escape!" I laughed. + +She was proud--proud as an Indian; it was hard for her to make +admissions about her husband. But then--we were like two errant +school-girls, who had been caught m an escapade! "I don't know what I'm +going to do about him," she said, with a wry smile. "He really won't +listen--I can't make any impression on him." + +"Did he guess that you'd come there on purpose?" I asked. + +"I told him," she answered. + +"You _told_ him!" + +"I'd meant to keep it secret--I wouldn't have minded telling him a fib +about a little thing. But he made it so very serious!" + +I could understand that it must have been serious after the telling. I +waited for her to add what news she chose. + +"It seems," she said, "that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs. +Frothingham's. You can imagine!" + +"I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil." + +"No; my husband says his Uncle Archibald always was a fool. But how can +anyone be so narrow! He seemed to take Mrs. Frothingham as a personal +affront." + +This was the most definite bit of vexation against her husband that she +had ever let me see. I decided to turn it into a jest. "Mrs. Frothingham +will be glad to know she was understood," I said. + +"But seriously, why can't men have open minds about politics and money?" +She went on in a worried voice: "I knew he was like this when I met +him at Harvard. He was living in his own house, aloof from the poorer +men--the men who were most worth while, it seemed to me. And when I +told him of the bad effect he was having on these men and on his own +character as well, he said he would do whatever I asked--he even gave +up his house and went to live in a dormitory. So I thought I had some +influence on him. But now, here is the same thing again, only I find +that one can't take a stand against one's husband. At least, he doesn't +admit the right." She hesitated. "It doesn't seem loyal to talk about +it." + +"My dear girl," I said with an impulse of candour, "there isn't much you +can tell me about that problem. My own marriage went to pieces on that +rock." + +I saw a look of surprise upon her face. "I haven't told you my story +yet," I said. "Some day I will--when you feel you know me well enough +for us to exchange confidences." + +There was more than a hint of invitation in this. After a silence, she +said: "One's instinct is to hide one's troubles." + +"Sylvia," I answered, "let me tell you about us. You must realise that +you've been a wonderful person to me; you belong to a world I never had +anything to do with, and never expected to get a glimpse of. It's the +wickedness of our class-civilization that human beings can't be just +human beings to each other--a king can hardly have a friend. Even after +I've overcome the impulse I have to be awed by your luxury and your +grandness; I'm conscious of the fact that everybody else is awed by +them. If I so much as mention that I've met you, I see people start and +stare at me--instantly I become a personage. It makes me angry, because +I want to know _you_." + +She was gazing at me, not saying a word. I went on: "I'd never have +thought it possible for anyone to be in your position and be real and +straight and human, but I realise that you have managed to work that +miracle. So I want to love you and help you, in every way I know how. +But you must understand, I can't ask for your confidence, as I could for +any other woman's. There is too much vulgar curiosity about the rich and +great, and I can't pretend to be unaware of that hatefulness; I can't +help shrinking from it. So all I can say is--if you need me, if you ever +need a real friend, why, here I am; you may be sure I understand, and +won't tell your secrets to anyone else." + +With a little mist of tears in her eyes, Sylvia put out her hand and +touched mine. And so we went into a chamber alone together, and shut the +cold and suspicious world outside. + +20. We knew each other well enough now to discuss the topic which has +been the favourite of women since we sat in the doorways of caves and +pounded wild grain in stone mortars--the question of our lords, who had +gone hunting, and who might be pleased to beat us on their return. +I learned all that Sylvia had been taught on the subject of the male +animal; I opened that amazing unwritten volume of woman traditions, the +maxims of Lady Dee Lysle. + +Sylvia's maternal great-aunt had been a great lady out of a great +age, and incidentally a grim and grizzled veteran of the sex-war. Her +philosophy started from a recognition of the physical and economic +inferiority of woman, as complete as any window-smashing suffragette +could have formulated, but her remedy for it was a purely individualist +one, the leisure-class woman's skill in trading upon her sex. Lady Dee +did not use that word, of course--she would as soon have talked of her +esophagus. Her formula was "charm," and she had taught Sylvia that the +preservation of "charm" was the end of woman's existence, the thing by +which she remained a lady, and without which she was more contemptible +than the beasts. + +She had taught this, not merely by example and casual anecdote, but by +precepts as solemnly expounded as bible-texts. "Remember, my dear, a +woman with a husband is like a lion-tamer with a whip!" And the old lady +would explain what a hard and dangerous life was lived by lion-tamers, +how their safety depended upon life-long distrustfulness of the +creatures over whom they ruled. She would tell stories of the rending +and maiming of luckless ones, who had forgotten for a brief moment the +nature of the male animal! "Yes, my dear," she would say, "believe +in love; but let the man believe first!" Her maxims never sinned by +verbosity. + +The end of all this was not merely food and shelter, a home and +children, it was the supremacy of a sex, its ability to shape life to +its whim. By means of this magic "charm"--a sort of perpetual individual +sex-strike--a woman turned her handicaps into advantages and her chains +into ornaments; she made herself a rare and wonderful creature, up to +whom men gazed in awe. It was "romantic love," but preserved throughout +life, instead of ceasing with courtship. + +All the Castleman women understood these arts, and employed them. There +was Aunt Nannie, when she cracked her whip the dear old bishop-lion +would jump as if he had been shot! Did not the whole State know the +story of how once he had been called upon at a banquet and had risen and +remarked: "Ladies and gentlemen, I had intended to make a speech to you +this evening, but I see that my wife is present, so I must beg you to +excuse me." The audience roared, and Aunt Nannie was furious, but poor +dear Bishop Chilton had spoken but the literal truth, that he could not +spread the wings of his eloquence in the presence of his "better half." + +And with Major Castleman, though it seemed different, it was really +the same. Sylvia's mother had let herself get stout--which seemed a +dangerous mark of confidence in the male animal. But the major was +fifteen years older than his wife, and she had a weak heart with which +to intimidate him. Now and then the wilfulness of Castleman Lysle would +become unendurable in the house, and his father would seize him and turn +him over his knee. His screams would bring "Miss Margaret" flying to the +rescue: "Major Castleman, how dare you spank one of _my_ children?" And +she would seize the boy and march off in terrible haughtiness, and lock +herself and her child in her room, and for hours afterwards the poor +major would wander about the house, suffering the lonelines of the +guilty soul. You would hear him tapping gently at his lady's door. +"Honey! Honey! Are you mad with me?" "Major Castleman," the stately +answer would come, "will you oblige me by leaving one room in this house +to which I may retire?" + +21. I would give you a wrong idea of Sylvia if I did not make clear that +along with this sophistication as to the play-aspects of sex, there +went the most incredible ignorance as to its practical realities. In my +arguments I had thought to appeal to her by referring to that feature of +wage-slavery which more than even child-labour stirs the moral sense of +women, but to my utter consternation I discovered that here was a +woman nearly a year married who did not know what prostitution was. A +suspicion had begun to dawn upon her, and she asked me, timidly: Could +it be possible that that intimacy which was given in marriage could +become a thing of barter in the market-place? When I told her the truth, +I found her horror so great that it was impossible to go on talking +economics. How could I say that women were driven to such things by +poverty? Surely a woman who was not bad at heart would starve, before +she would sell her body to a man! + +Perhaps I should have been more patient with her, but I am bitter on +these subjects. "My dear Mrs. van Tuiver," I said, "there is a lot of +nonsense talked about this matter. There is very little sex-life for +women without a money-price made clear in advance." + +"I don't understand," she said. + +"I don't know about your case," I replied, "but when I married, it was +because I was unhappy and wanted a home of my own. And if the truth were +told, that is why most women marry." + +"But what has THAT to do with it?" she cried. She really did not see! + +"What is the difference--except that such women stand out for a +maintenance, while the prostitute takes cash?" I saw that I had shocked +her, and I said: "You must be humble about these things, because you +have never been poor, and you cannot judge those who have been. But +surely you must have known worldly women who married rich men for their +money. And surely you admit that that is prostitution?" + +She fell suddenly silent, and I saw what I had done, and, no doubt, you +will say I should have been ashamed of myself. But when one has seen as +much of misery and injustice as I have, one cannot be so patient with +the fine artificial delicacies and sentimentalities of the idle rich. I +went ahead to tell her some stories, showing her what poverty actually +meant to women. + +Then, as she remained silent, I asked her how she had managed to remain +so ignorant. Surely she must have met with the word "prostitution" in +books; she must have heard allusions to the "demi-monde." + +"Of course," she said, "I used to see conspicuous-looking women at the +race-track in New Orleans; I've sat near them in restaurants, I've known +by my mother's looks and her agitation that they must be bad women. But +you see, I didn't know what it meant--I had nothing but a vague feeling +of something dreadful." + +I smiled. "Then Lady Dee did not tell you everything about the +possibilities of her system of 'charm.'" + +"No," said Sylvia. "Evidently she didn't!" She sat staring at me, trying +to get up the courage to go on with this plain speaking. + +And at last the courage came. "I think it is wrong," she exclaimed. +"Girls ought not to be kept so ignorant! They ought to know what such +things mean. Why, I didn't even know what marriage meant!" + +"Can that be true?" I asked. + +"All my life I had thought of marriage, in a way; I had been trained to +think of it with every eligible man I met--but to me it meant a home, a +place of my own to entertain people in. I pictured myself going driving +with my husband, giving dinner-parties to his friends. I knew I'd have +to let him kiss me, but beyond that--I had a vague idea of something, +but I didn't think. I had been deliberately trained not to let myself +think--to run away from every image that came to me. And I went on +dreaming of what I'd wear, and how I'd greet my husband when he came +home in the evening." + +"Didn't you think about children?" + +"Yes--but I thought of the CHILDREN. I thought what they'd look like, +and how they'd talk, and how I'd love them. I don't know if many young +girls shut their minds up like that." + +She was speaking with agitation, and I was gazing into her eyes, reading +more than she knew I was reading. I was nearer to solving the problem +that had been baffling me. And I wanted to take her hands in mine, and +say: "You would never have married him if you'd understood!" + +22. Sylvia thought she ought to have been taught, but when she came to +think of it she was unable to suggest who could have done the +teaching. "Your mother?" I asked, and she had to laugh, in spite of the +seriousness of her mood. "Poor dear mamma! When they sent me up here to +boarding school, she took me off and tried to tell me not to listen to +vulgar talk from the girls. She managed to make it clear that I mustn't +listen to something, and I managed not to listen. I'm sure that even +now she would rather have her tongue cut out than talk to me about such +things." + +"I talked to my children," I assured her. + +"And you didn't feel embarrassed?" + +"I did in the beginning--I had the same shrinkings to overcome. But I +had a tragedy behind me to push me on." + +I told her the story of my nephew, a shy and sensitive lad, who used to +come to me for consolation, and became as dear to me as my own children. +When he was seventeen he grew moody and despondent; he ran away from +home for six months and more, and then returned and was forgiven--but +that seemed to make no difference. One night he came to see me, and I +tried hard to get him to tell me what was wrong. He wouldn't, but went +away, and several hours later I found a letter he had shoved under the +table-cloth. I read it, and rushed out and hitched up a horse and drove +like mad to my brother-in-law's, but I got there too late, the poor boy +had taken a shot-gun to his room, and put the muzzle into his mouth, and +set off the trigger with his foot. In the letter he told me what was the +matter--he had got into trouble with a woman of the town, and had caught +syphilis. He had gone away and tried to get cured, but had fallen into +the hands of a quack, who had taken all his money and left his health +worse than ever, so in despair and shame the poor boy had shot his head +off. + +I paused, uncertain if Sylvia would understand the story. "Do you know +what syphilis is?" I asked. + +"I suppose--I have heard of what we call a 'bad disease'" she said. + +"It's a very bad disease. But if the words convey to you that it's a +disease that bad people get, I should tell you that most men take the +chance of getting it; yet they are cruel enough to despise those upon +whom the ill-luck falls. My poor nephew had been utterly ignorant--I +found out that from his father, too late. An instinct had awakened in +him of which he knew absolutely nothing; his companions had taught him +what it meant, and he had followed their lead. And then had come the +horror and the shame--and some vile, ignorant wretch to trade upon it, +and cast the boy off when he was penniless. So he had come home again, +with his gnawing secret; I pictured him wandering about, trying to make +up his mind to confide in me, wavering between that and the horrible +deed he did." + +I stopped, because even to this day I cannot tell the story without +tears. I cannot keep a picture of the boy in my room, because of the +self-reproaches that haunt me. "You can understand," I said to Sylvia, +"I never could forget such a lesson. I swore a vow over the poor lad's +body, that I would never let a boy or girl that I could reach go out in +ignorance into the world. I read up on the subject, and for a while I +was a sort of fanatic--I made people talk, young people and old people. +I broke down the taboos wherever I went, and while I shocked a good +many, I knew that I helped a good many more." + +All that was, of course, inconceivable to Sylvia. How curious was the +contrast of her one experience in the matter of venereal disease. She +told me how she had been instrumental in making a match between her +friend, Harriet Atkinson and a young scion of an ancient and haughty +family of Charleston, and how after the marriage her friend's health had +begun to give way, until now she was an utter wreck, living alone in a +dilapidated antebellum mansion, seeing no one but negro servants, and +praying for death to relieve her of her misery. + +"Of course, I don't really know," said Sylvia. "Perhaps it was +this--this disease that you speak of. None of my people would tell me--I +doubt if they really know themselves. It was just before my own wedding, +so you can understand it had a painful effect upon me. It happened that +I read something in a magazine, and I thought that--that possibly my +fiancee--that someone ought to ask him, you understand--" + +She stopped, and the blood was crimson in her cheeks, with the memory +of her old excitement, and some fresh excitement added to it. There are +diseases of the mind as well as of the body, and one of them is called +prudery. + +"I can understand," I said. "It was certainly your right to be reassured +on such a point." + +"Well, I tried to talk to my Aunt Varina about it; then I wrote to Uncle +Basil, and asked him to write to Douglas. At first he refused--he only +consented to do it when I threatened to go to my father." + +"What came of it in the end?" + +"Why, my uncle wrote, and Douglas answered very kindly that he +understood, and that it was all right--I had nothing to fear. I never +expected to mention the incident to anyone again." + +"Lots of people have mentioned such things to me," I responded, to +reassure her. Then after a pause: "Tell me, how was it, if you didn't +know the meaning of marriage, how could you connect the disease with +it?" + +She answered, gazing with the wide-open, innocent eyes: "I had no +idea how people gave it to each other. I thought maybe they got it by +kissing." + +I thought to myself again: The horror of this superstition of prudery! +Can one think of anything more destructive to life than the placing of +a taboo upon such matters? Here is the whole of the future at stake--the +health, the sanity, the very existence of the race. And what fiend has +been able to contrive it that we feel like criminals when we mention the +subject? + +23. Our intimacy progressed, and the time came when Sylvia told me about +her marriage. She had accepted Douglas van Tuiver because she had lost +Frank Shirley, and her heart was broken. She could never imagine herself +loving any other man; and not knowing exactly what marriage meant, it +had been easier for her to think of her family, and to follow their +guidance. They had told her that love would come; Douglas had implored +her to give him a chance to teach her to love him. She had considered +what she could do with his money--both for her home-people and for those +she spoke of vaguely as "the poor." But now she was making the discovery +that she could not do very much for these "poor." + +"It isn't that my husband is mean," she said. "On the contrary, the +slightest hint will bring me any worldly thing I want. I have homes in +half a dozen parts of America--I have _carte blanche_ to open accounts +in two hemispheres. If any of my people need money I can get it; but if +I want it for myself, he asks me what I'm doing with it--and so I run +into the stone-wall of his ideas." + +At first the colliding with this wall had merely pained and bewildered +her. But now the combination of Veblen and myself had helped her +to realize what it meant. Douglas van Tuiver spent his money upon +a definite system: whatever went to the maintaining of his social +position, whatever added to the glory, prestige and power of the van +Tuiver name--that money was well-spent; while money spent to any other +end was money wasted--and this included all ideas and "causes." And +when the master of the house knew that his money was being wasted, it +troubled him. + +"It wasn't until after I married him that I realized how idle his life +is," she remarked. "At home all the men have something to do, running +their plantations, or getting elected to some office. But Douglas never +does anything that I can possibly think is useful." + +His fortune was invested in New York City real-estate, she went on to +explain. There was an office, with a small army of clerks and agents to +attend to it--a machine which had been built up and handed on to him by +his ancestors. It sufficed if he dropped in for an hour or two once a +week when he was in the city, and signed a batch of documents now and +then when he was away. His life was spent in the company of people whom +the social system had similarly deprived of duties; and they had, by +generations of experiment, built up for themselves a new set of duties, +a life which was wholly without relationship to reality. Into this +unreal existence Sylvia had married, and it was like a current sweeping +her in its course. So long as she went with it, all was well; but let +her try to catch hold of something and stop, and it would tear her loose +and almost strangle her. + +As time went on, she gave me strange glimpses into this world. Her +husband did not seem really to enjoy its life. As Sylvia put it, "He +takes it for granted that he has to do all the proper things that the +proper people do. He hates to be conspicuous, he says. I point out to +him that the proper things are nearly always conspicuous, but he replies +that to fail to do them would be even more conspicuous." + +It took me a long time to get really acquainted with Sylvia, because of +the extent to which this world was clamouring for her. I used to drop in +when she 'phoned me she had half an hour. I would find her dressing for +something, and she would send her maid away, and we would talk until +she would be late for some function; and that might be a serious matter, +because somebody would feel slighted. She was always "on pins and +needles" over such questions of precedent; it seemed as if everybody in +her world must be watching everybody else. There was a whole elaborate +science of how to treat the people you met, so that they would not +feel slighted--or so that they would feel slighted, according to +circumstances. + +To the enjoyment of such a life it was essential that the person +should believe in it. Douglas van Tuiver did believe in it; it was his +religion, the only one he had. (Churchman as he was, his church was +a part of the social routine.) He was proud of Sylvia, and apparently +satisfied when he could take her at his side; and Sylvia went, because +she was his wife, and that was what wives were for. She had tried her +best to be happy; she had told herself that she _was_ happy yet all the +time realizing that a woman who is really happy does not have to tell +herself. + +Earlier in life she had quaffed and enjoyed the wine of applause. I +recollect vividly her telling me of the lure her beauty had been to +her--the most terrible temptation that could come to a woman. "I walk +into a brilliant room, and I feel the thrill of admiration that +goes through the crowd. I have a sudden sense of my own physical +perfection--a glow all over me! I draw a deep breath--I feel a surge of +exaltation. I say, 'I am victorious--I can command! I have this supreme +crown of womanly grace--I am all-powerful with it--the world is mine!'" + +As she spoke the rapture was in her voice, and I looked at her--and yes, +she was beautiful! The supreme crown was hers! + +"I see other beautiful women," she went on--and swift anger came into +her voice. "I see what they are doing with this power! Gratifying their +vanity--turning men into slaves of their whim! Squandering money upon +empty pleasures--and with the dreadful plague of poverty spreading in +the world! I used to go to my father, 'Oh, papa, why must there be so +many poor people? Why should we have servants--why should they have to +wait on me, and I do nothing for them?' He would try to explain to me +that it was the way of Nature. Mamma would tell me it was the will +of the Lord--'The poor ye have always with you'--'Servants, obey your +masters'--and so on. But in spite of the Bible texts, I felt guilty. And +now I come to Douglas with the same plea--and it only makes him angry! +He has been to college and has a lot of scientific phrases--he tells me +it's 'the struggle for existence,' 'the elimination of the unfit'--and +so on. I say to him, 'First we make people unfit, and then we have to +eliminate them.' He cannot see why I do not accept what learned people +tell me--why I persist in questioning and suffering." + +She paused, and then added, "It's as if he were afraid I might find out +something he doesn't want me to! He's made me give him a promise that I +won't see Mrs. Frothingham again!" And she laughed. "I haven't told him +about you!" + +I answered, needless to say, that I hoped she would keep the secret! + +24. All this time I was busy with my child-labour work. We had an +important bill before the legislature that session, and I was doing what +I could to work up sentiment for it. I talked at every gathering where I +could get a hearing; I wrote letters to newspapers; I sent literature to +lists of names. I racked my mind for new schemes, and naturally, at such +times, I could not help thinking of Sylvia. How much she could do, if +only she would! + +I spared no one, least of all myself, and so it was not easy to spare +her. The fact that I had met her was the gossip of the office, and +everybody was waiting for something to happen. "How about Mrs. van +Tuiver?" my "chief" would ask, at intervals. "If she would _only_ go on +our press committee" my stenographer would sigh. + +The time came when our bill was in committee, a place of peril for +bills. I went to Albany to see what could be done. I met half a hundred +legislators, of whom perhaps half-a-dozen had some human interest in my +subject; the rest, well, it was discouraging. Where was the force that +would stir them, make them forget their own particular little grafts, +and serve the public welfare in defiance to hostile interests? + +Where was it? I came back to New York to look for it, and after a blue +luncheon with the members of our committee, I came away with my mind +made up--I would sacrifice my Sylvia to this desperate emergency. + +I knew just what I had to do. So far she had heard speeches about social +wrongs, or read books about them; she had never been face to face with +the reality of them. Now I persuaded her to take a morning off, and see +some of the sights of the underworld of toil. We foreswore the royal +car, and likewise the royal furs and velvets; she garbed herself in +plain appearing dark blue and went down town in the Subway like common +mortals, visiting paper-box factories and flower factories, tenement +homes where whole families sat pasting toys and gimcracks for fourteen +or sixteen hours a day, and still could not buy enough food to make +full-sized men and women of them. + +She was Dante, and I was Virgil, our inferno was an endless procession +of tortured faces--faces of women, haggard and mournful, faces of little +children, starved and stunted, dulled and dumb. Several times we stopped +to talk with these people--one little Jewess girl I knew whose three +tiny sisters had been roasted alive in a sweatshop fire. This child had +jumped from a fourth-story window, and been miraculously caught by a +fireman. She said that some man had started the fire, and been caught, +but the police had let him get away. So I had to explain to Sylvia +that curious bye-product (sic) of the profit system known as the "Arson +Trust." Authorities estimated that incendiarism was responsible for +the destruction of a quarter of a billion dollars worth of property in +America every year. So, of course, the business of starting fires was +a paying one, and the "fire-bug," like the "cadet" and the dive-keeper, +was a part of the "system." So it was quite a possible thing that the +man who had burned up this little girl's three sisters might have been +allowed to escape. + +I happened to say this in the little girl's hearing, and I saw +her pitiful strained eyes fixed upon Sylvia. Perhaps this lovely, +soft-voiced lady was a fairy god-mother, come to free her sisters from +an evil spell and to punish the wicked criminal! I saw Sylvia turn her +head away, and search for her handkerchief; as we groped our way down +the dark stairs, she caught my hand, whispering: "Oh, my God! my God!" + +It had even more effect than I had intended; not only did she say that +she would do something--anything that would be of use--but she told me +as we rode back home that her mind was made up to stop the squandering +of her husband's money. He had been planning a costume ball for a +couple of months later, an event which would keep the van Tuiver name +in condition, and would mean that he and other people would spend many +hundreds of thousands of dollars. As we rode home in the roaring Subway, +Sylvia sat beside me, erect and tense, saying that if the ball were +given, it would be without the presence of the hostess. + +I struck while the iron was hot, and got her permission to put her name +upon our committee list. She said, moreover, that she would get some +free time, and be more than a mere name to us. What were the duties of a +member of our committee? + +"First," I said, "to know the facts about child-labour, as you have seen +them to-day, and second, to help other people to know." + +"And how is that to be done?" + +"Well, for instance, there is that hearing before the legislative +committee. You remember I suggested that you appear." + +"Yes," she said in a low voice. I could almost hear the words that were +in her mind: "What would _he_ say?" + +25. Sylvia's name went upon our letter-heads and other literature, and +almost at once things began to happen. In a day or two there came a +reporter, saying he had noticed her name. Was it true that she had +become interested in our work? Would I please give him some particulars, +as the public would naturally want to know. + +I admitted that Mrs. van Tuiver had joined the committee; she approved +of our work and desired to further it. That was all. He asked: Would she +give an interview? And I answered that I was sure she would not. Then +would I tell something about how she had come to be interested in the +work? It was a chance to assist our propaganda, added the reporter, +diplomatically. + +I retired to another room, and got Sylvia upon the 'phone, "The time has +come for you to take the plunge," I said. + +"Oh, but I don't want to be in the papers!" she cried "Surely, you +wouldn't advise it!" + +"I don't see how you can avoid having something appear. Your name +is given out, and if the man can't get anything else, he'll take our +literature, and write up your doings out of his imagination." + +"And they'll print my picture with it!" she exclaimed. I could not help +laughing. "It's quite possible." + +"Oh, what will my husband do? He'll say 'I told you so!'" + +It is a hard thing to have one's husband say that, as I knew by bitter +experience. But I did not think that reason enough for giving up. + +"Let me have time to think it over," said Sylvia. "Get him to wait till +to-morrow, and meantime I can see you." + +So it was arranged. I think I told Sylvia the truth when I said that I +had never before heard of a committee member who was unwilling to have +his purposes discussed in the newspapers. To influence newspapers was +one of the main purposes of committees, and I did not see how she could +expect either editors or readers to take any other view. + +"Let me tell the man about your trip down town," I suggested, "then I +can go on to discuss the bill and how it bears on the evils you saw. +Such a statement can't possibly do you harm." + +She consented, but with the understanding that she was not to be quoted +directly. "And don't let them make me picturesque!" she exclaimed. +"That's what my husband seems most to dread." + +I wondered if he didn't think she was picturesque, when she sat in +a splendid, shining coach, and took part in a public parade through +Central Park. But I did not say this. I went off, and swore my reporter +to abstain from the "human touch," and he promised and kept his word. +There appeared next morning a dignified "write-up" of Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver's interest in child-labour reform. Quoting me, it described some +of the places she had visited, and some of the sights which had shocked +her; it went on to tell about our committee and its work, the status +of our bill in the legislature, the need of activity on the part of our +friends if the measure was to be forced through at this session. It +was a splendid "boost" for our work, and everyone in the office was in +raptures over it. The social revolution was at hand! thought my young +stenographer. + +But the trouble with this business of publicity is that, however +carefully you control your interviewer, you cannot control the others +who use his material. The "afternoon men" came round for more details, +and they made it clear that it was personal details they wanted. And +when I side-stepped their questions, they went off and made up answers +to suit themselves, and printed Sylvia's pictures, together with +photographs of child-workers taken from our pamphlets. + +I called Sylvia up while she was dressing for dinner, to explain that I +was not responsible for any of this picturesqueness. "Oh, perhaps I am +to blame myself!" she exclaimed. "I think I interviewed a reporter." + +"How do you mean?" + +"A woman sent up her card--she told the footman she was a friend of +mine. And I thought--I couldn't be sure if I'd met her--so I went and +saw her. She said she'd met me at Mrs. Harold Cliveden's, and she began +to talk to me about child-labour, and this and that plan she had, and +what did I think of them, and suddenly it flashed over me: 'Maybe this +is a reporter playing a trick on me!'" + +I hurried out before breakfast next morning and got all the papers, +to see what this enterprising lady had done. There was nothing, so I +reflected that probably she had been a "Sunday" lady. + +But then, when I reached my office, the 'phone rang, and I heard the +voice of Sylvia: "Mary, something perfectly dreadful has happened!" + +"What?" I cried. + +"I can't tell you over the 'phone, but a certain person is furiously +angry. Can I see you if I come down right away?" + +26. Such terrors as these were unguessed by me in the days of my +obscurity. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, uneasy also, lies +the wife of that head, and the best friend of the wife. I dismissed my +stenographer, and spent ten or fifteen restless minutes until Sylvia +appeared. + +Her story was quickly told. A couple of hours ago the acting-manager of +Mr. van Tuiver's office had telephoned to ask if he might call upon a +matter of importance. He had come. Naturally, he had the most extreme +reluctance to say anything which might seem to criticise the activities +of Mr. van Tuiver's wife, but there was something in the account in +the newspapers which should be brought to her husband's attention. The +articles gave the names and locations of a number of firms in whose +factories it was alleged that Mrs. van Tuiver had found unsatisfactory +conditions, and it happened that two of these firms were located in +premises which belonged to the van Tuiver estates! + +A story coming very close to melodrama, I perceived. I sat dismayed +at what I had done. "Of course, dear girl," I said, at last, "you +understand that I had no idea who owned these buildings." + +"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Sylvia. "I am the one who should have +known!" + +Then for a long time I sat still and let her suffer. "Tenement +sweat-shops! Little children in factories!" I heard her whisper. + +At last I put my hand on hers. "I tried to put it off for a while," I +said. "But I knew it would have to come." + +"Think of me!" she exclaimed, "going about scolding other people for the +way they make their money! When I thought of my own, I had visions of +palatial hotels and office-buildings--everything splendid and clean!" + +"Well, my dear, you've learned now, and you will be able to do +something--" + +She turned upon me suddenly, and for the first time I saw in her face +the passions of tragedy. "Do you believe I will be able to do anything? +No! Don't have any such idea!" + +I was struck dumb. She got up and began to pace the room. "Oh, don't +make any mistake, I've paid for my great marriage in the last hour or +two. To think that he cares about nothing save the possibility of being +found out and made ridiculous! All his friends have been 'muckraked,' as +he calls it, and he has sat aloft and smiled over their plight; he was +the landed gentleman, the true aristrocrat, whom the worries of traders +and money-changers didn't concern. Now perhaps he's caught, and his +name is to be dragged in the mire, and it's my flightiness, my lack of +commonsense that has done it!" + +"I shouldn't let that trouble me," I said. "You could not know--" + +"Oh, it's not that! It's that I hadn't a single courageous word to say +to him--not a hint that he ought to refuse to wring blood-money from +sweat-shops! I came away without having done it, because I couldn't face +his anger, because it would have meant a quarrel!" + +"My dear," I said gently, "it is possible to survive a quarrel." + +"No, you don't understand! We should never make it up again, I know--I +saw it in his words, in his face. He will never change to please me, +no, not even a simple thing like the business-methods of the van Tuiver +estates." + +I could not help smiling. "My dear Sylvia! A simple thing!" + +She came and sat beside me. "That's what I want to talk about. It is +time I was growing up. It it time that I knew about these things. Tell +me about them." + +"What, my dear?" + +"About the methods of the van Tuiver estates, that can't be changed to +please me. I made out one thing, we had recently paid a fine for some +infraction of the law in one of those buildings, and my husband said +it was because we had refused to pay more money to a tenement-house +inspector. I asked him: 'Why should we pay any money at all to a +tenement-house inspector? Isn't it bribery?' He answered: 'It's a +custom--the same as you give a tip to a hotel waiter.' Is that true?" + +I could not help smiling. "Your husband ought to know, my dear," I said. + +I saw her compress her lips. "What is the tip for?" + +"I suppose it is to keep out of trouble with him." + +"But why can't we keep out of trouble by obeying the law?" + +"My dear, sometimes the law is inconvenient, and sometimes it is +complicated and obscure. It might be that you are violating it without +knowing the fact. It might be uncertain whether you are violating it +or not, so that to settle the question would mean a lot of expense and +publicity. It might even be that the law is impossible to obey--that it +was not intended to be obeyed." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I mean, maybe it was passed to put you at the mercy of the +politicians." + +"But," she protested, "that would be blackmail." + +"The phrase," I replied, "is 'strike-legislation.'" + +"But at least, that wouldn't be our fault!" + +"No, not unless you had begun it. It generally happens that the landlord +discovers it's a good thing to have politicians who will work with him. +Maybe he wants his assessments lowered; maybe he wants to know where new +car lines are to go, so that he can buy intelligently; maybe he wants +the city to improve his neighbourhood; maybe he wants influence at court +when he has some heavy damage suit." + +"So we bribe everyone!" + +"Not necessarily. You may simply wait until campaign-time, and then make +your contribution to the machine. That is the basis of the 'System.'." + +"The 'System '?" + +"A semi-criminal police-force, and everything that pays tribute to it; +the saloon and the dive, the gambling hell the white-slave market, and +the Arson trust." + +I saw a wild look in her eyes. "Tell me, do you _know_ that all these +things are true? Or are you only guessing about them?" + +"My dear Sylvia," I answered, "you said it was time you grew up. For the +present I will tell you this: Several months before I met you, I made +a speech in which I named some of the organised forces of evil in the +city. One was Tammany Hall, and another was the Traction Trust, and +another was the Trinity Church Corporation, and yet another was the van +Tuiver estates." + +27. The following Sunday there appeared a "magazine story" of an +interview with the infinitely beautiful young wife of the infinitely +rich Mr. Douglas van Tuiver, in which the views of the wife on the +subject of child-labour were liberally interlarded with descriptions +of her reception-room and her morning-gown. But mere picturesqueness by +that time had been pretty well discounted in our minds. So long as +the article did not say anything about the ownership of child-labour +tenements! + +I did not see Sylvia for several weeks after that. I took it for granted +that she would want some time to get herself together and make up her +mind about the future. I did not feel anxious; the seed had sprouted, +and I felt sure it would continue to grow. + +Then one day she called me up, asking if I could come to see her. I +suggested that afternoon, and she said she was having tea with some +people at the Palace Hotel, and could I come there just after tea-time? +I remember the place and the hour, because of the curious adventure into +which I got myself. One hears the saying, when unexpected encounters +take place, "How small the world is!" But I thought the world was +growing really too small when I went into a hotel tea-room to wait for +Sylvia, and found myself face to face with Claire Lepage! + +The place appointed had been the "orange-room"; I stood in the door-way, +sweeping the place with my eyes, and I saw Mrs. van Tuiver at the same +moment that she saw me. She was sitting at a table with several other +people and she nodded, and I took a seat to wait. From my position I +could watch her, in animated conversation; and she could send me a smile +now and then. So I was decidedly startled when I heard a voice, "Why, +how do you do?" and looked up and saw Claire holding out her hand to me. + +"Well, for heaven's sake!" I exclaimed. + +"You don't come to see me any more," she said. + +"Why, no--no, I've been busy of late." So much I managed to ejaculate, +in spite of my confusion. + +"You seem surprised to see me," she remarked--observant as usual, and +sensitive to other people's attitude to her. + +"Why, naturally," I said. And then, recollecting that it was not in the +least natural--since she spent a good deal of her time in such places--I +added, "I was looking for someone else." + +"May I do in the meantime?" she inquired, taking a seat beside me. "What +are you so busy about?" + +"My child-labour work," I answered. Then, in an instant, I was sorry for +the words, thinking she must have read about Sylvia's activities. I did +not want her to know that I had met Sylvia, for it would mean a flood of +questions, which I did not want to answer--nor yet to refuse to answer. + +But my fear was needless. "I've been out of town," she said. + +"Whereabouts?" I asked, making conversation. + +"A little trip to Bermuda." + +My mind was busy with the problem of getting rid of her. It would be +intolerable to have Sylvia come up to us; it was intolerable to know +that they were in sight of each other. + +Even as the thought came to me, however, I saw Claire start. "Look!" she +exclaimed. + +"What is it?" + +"That woman there--in the green velvet! The fourth table." + +"I see her." + +"Do you know who she is?" + +"Who?" (I remembered Lady Dee's maxim about lying!) + +"Sylvia Castleman!" whispered Claire. (She always referred to her +thus--seeming to say, "I'm as much van Tuiver as she is!") + +"Are you sure?" I asked--in order to say something. + +"I've seen her a score of times. I seem to be always running into her. +That's Freddie Atkins she's talking to." + +"Indeed!" said I. + +"I know most of the men I see her with. But I have to walk by as if I'd +never seen them. A queer world we live in, isn't it?" + +I could assent cordially to that proposition. "Listen," I broke in, +quickly. "Have you got anything to do? If not, come down to the Royalty +and have tea with me." + +"Why not have it here?" + +"I've been waiting for someone from there, and I have to leave a +message. Then I'll be free." + +She rose, to my vast relief, and we walked out. I could feel Sylvia's +eyes following me; but I dared not try to send her a message--I would +have to make up some explanation afterwards. "Who was your well-dressed +friend?" I could imagine her asking; but my mind was more concerned with +the vision of what would happen if, in full sight of her companion, Mr. +Freddie Atkins, she were to rise and walk over to Claire and myself! + +28. Seated in the palm-room of the other hotel, I sipped a cup of +tea which I felt I had earned, while Claire had a little glass of the +fancy-coloured liquids which the ladies in these places affect. The room +was an aviary, with tropical plants and splashing fountains--and birds +of many gorgeous hues; I gazed from one to another of the splendid +creatures, wondering how many of them were paying for their plumage +in the same way as my present companion. It would have taken a more +practiced eye than mine to say which, for if I had been asked, I +would have taken Claire for a diplomat's wife. She had not less than a +thousand dollars' worth of raiment upon her, and its style made clear to +all the world the fact that it had not been saved over from a previous +season of prosperity. She was a fine creature, who could carry any +amount of sail; with her bold, black eyes she looked thoroughly +competent, and it was hard to believe in the fundamental softness of her +character. + +I sat, looking about me, annoyed at having missed Sylvia, and only half +listening to Claire. But suddenly she brought me to attention. "Well," +she said, "I've met him." + +"Met whom?" + +"Douglas." + +I stared at her. "Douglas van Tuiver?" + +She nodded; and I suppressed a cry. + +"I told you he'd come back," she added, with a laugh. + +"You mean he came to see you?" + +I could not hide my concern. But there was no need to, for it +flattered Claire's vanity. "No--not yet, but he will. I met him at Jack +Taylor's--at a supper-party." + +"Did he know you were to be there?" + +"No. But he didn't leave when he saw me." + +There was a pause. I could not trust myself to say anything. But Claire +had no intention of leaving me curious. "I don't think he's happy with +her," she remarked. + +"What makes you say that?" + +"Oh, several things. I know him, you know. He wouldn't say he was." + +"Perhaps he didn't want to discuss it with you." + +"Oh, no--not that. He isn't reserved with me." + +"I should think it was dangerous to discuss one's wife under such +circumstances," I laughed. + +Claire laughed also. "You should have heard what Jack had to say about +his wife! She's down at Palm Beach." + +"She'd better come home," I ventured. + +"He was telling what a dance she leads him; she raises Cain if a woman +looks at him--and she damns every woman he meets before the woman has a +chance to look. Jack said marriage was hell--just hell. Reggie Channing +thought it was like a pair of old slippers that you got used to." Jack +laughed and answered, "You're at the stage where you think you can solve +the marriage problem by deceiving your wife!" + +I made no comment. Claire sat for a while, busy with her thoughts; then +she repeated, "He wouldn't say he was happy! And he misses me, too. When +he was going, I held his hand, and said: 'Well, Douglas, how goes it?'" + +"And then?" I asked; but she would not say any more. + +I waited a while, and then began, "Claire, let him alone. Give them a +chance to be happy." + +"Why should I?" she demanded, in a voice of hostility. + +"She never harmed you," I said. I knew I was being foolish, but I would +do what I could. + +"She took him away from me, didn't she?" And Claire's eyes were suddenly +alight with the hatred of her outcast class. "Why did she get him? +Why is she Mrs. van Tuiver, and I nobody? Because her father was rich, +because she had power and position, while I had to scratch for myself in +the world. Is that true, or isn't it?" + +I could not deny that it might be part of the truth. "But they're +married now," I said, "and he loves her." + +"He loves me, too. And I love him still, in spite of the way he's +treated me. He's the only man I ever really loved. Do you think I'm +going off and hide in a hole, while she spends his money and plays the +princess up and down the Avenue? Not much!" + +I fell silent. Should I set out upon another effort at "moulding water"? +Should I give Claire one more scolding--tell her, perhaps, how her very +features were becoming hard and ugly, as a result of the feelings she +was harbouring? Should I recall the pretences of generosity and dignity +she had made when we first met? I might have attempted this--but +something held me back. After all, the one person who could decide this +issue was Douglas van Tuiver. + +I rose. "Well, I have to be going. But I'll drop round now and then, and +see what success you have." + +She became suddenly important. "Maybe I won't tell!" + +To which I answered, indifferently, "All right, it's your secret." But I +went off without much worry over that part of it. Claire must have some +one to whom to recount her troubles--or her triumphs, as the case might +be. + +29. I had my talk with Sylvia a day or two later, and made my excuse--a +friend from the West who had been going out of town in a few hours +later. + +The seed had been growing, I found. Ever since we had last met, her life +had consisted of arguments over the costume-ball on which her husband +had set his heart, and at which she had refused to play the hostess. + +"Of course, he's right about one thing," she remarked. "We can't stay in +New York unless we give some big affair. Everyone expects it, and there +is no explanation except one he could not offer." + +"I've made a big breach in your life, Sylvia," I said. + +"It wasn't all you. This unhappiness has been in me--it's been like a +boil, and you've been the poultice." (She had four younger brothers and +sisters, so these domestic similes came naturally.) + +"Boils," I remarked, "are disfiguring, when they come to a head." + +There was a pause. "How is your child-labour bill?" she asked, abruptly. + +"Why, it's all right." + +"Didn't I see a letter in the paper saying it had been referred to a +sub-committee, some trick to suppress it for this session?" + +I could not answer. I had been hoping she had not seen that letter. + +"If I were to come forward now," she said, "I could possibly block that +move, couldn't I?" + +Still I said nothing. + +"If I were to take a bold stand--I mean if I were to speak at a public +meeting, and denounce the move." + +"I suppose you could," I had to admit. + +For a long time she sat with her head bowed. "The children will have to +wait," she said, at last, half to herself. + +"My dear," I answered (What else was there to answer?) "the children +have waited a long time." + +"I hate to turn back--to have you say I'm a coward--" + +"I won't say that, Sylvia." + +"You will be too kind, no doubt, but that will be the truth." + +I tried to reassure her. But the acids I had used--intended for tougher +skins than hers--had burned into the very bone, and now it was not +possible to stop their action. "I must make you understand," she said, +"how serious a thing it seems to me for a wife to stand out against +her husband. I've been brought up to feel that it was the most terrible +thing a woman could do." + +She stopped, and when she went on again her face was set like one +enduring pain. "So this is the decision to which I have come. If I do +anything of a public nature now, I drive my husband from me; on +the other hand, if I take a little time, I may be able to save the +situation. I need to educate myself, and I'm hoping I may be able to +educate him at the same time. If I can get him to read something--if +it's only a few paragraphs everyday--I may gradually change his point of +view, so that he will tolerate what I believe. At any rate, I ought to +try; I am sure that is the wise and kind and fair thing to do." + +"What will you do about the ball?" I asked. + +"I am going to take him away, out of this rush and distraction, this +dressing and undressing, hurrying about meeting people and chattering +about nothing." + +"He is willing?" + +"Yes; in fact, he suggested it himself. He thinks my mind is turned, +with all the things I've been reading, and with Mrs. Frothingham, and +Mrs. Allison, and the rest. He hopes that if I go away, I may quiet +down and come to my senses. We have a good excuse. I have to think of my +health just now---" + +She stopped, and looked away from my eyes. I saw the colour spreading in +a slow wave over her cheeks; it was like those tints of early dawn that +are so ravishing to the souls of poets. "In four or five months from +now---" And she stopped again. + +I put my big hand gently over her small one. "I have three children of +my own," I said. + +"So," she went on, "it won't seem so unreasonable. Some people know, and +the rest will guess, and there won't be any talk--I mean, such as +there would be if it was rumoured that Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver had got +interested in Socialism, and refused to spend her husband's money." + +"I understand," I replied. "It's quite the most sensible thing, and I'm +glad you've found a way out. I shall miss you, of course, but we can +write each other long letters. Where are you going?" + +"I'm not absolutely sure. Douglas suggests a cruise in the West Indies, +but I think I should rather be settled in one place. He has a lovely +house in the mountains of North Carolina, and wants me to go there; but +it's a show-place, with rich homes all round, and I know I'd soon be in +a social whirl. I thought of the camp in the Adirondacks. It would be +glorious to see the real woods in winter; but I lose my nerve when I +think of the cold--I was brought up in a warm place." + +"A 'camp' sounds rather primitive for one in your condition," I +suggested. + +"That's because you haven't been there. In reality it's a big house, +with twenty-five rooms, and steam-heat and electric lights, and half a +dozen men to take care of it when it's empty--as it has been for several +years." + +I smiled--for I could read her thought. "Are you going to be unhappy +because you can't occupy all your husband's homes?" + +"There's one other I prefer," she continued, unwilling to be made to +smile. "They call it a 'fishing lodge,' and it's down in the Florida +Keys. They're putting a railroad through there, but meantime you can +only get to it by a launch. From the pictures, it's the most heavenly +spot imaginable. Fancy running about those wonderful green waters in a +motor-boat!" + +"It sounds quite alluring," I replied. "But isn't it remote for you?" + +"We're not so very far from Key West; and my husband means to have a +physician with us in any case. The advantage of being in a small place +is that we couldn't entertain if we wanted to. I can have my Aunt Varina +come to stay with me, a dear, sweet soul who loves me devotedly; and +then if I find I have to have some new ideas, perhaps you can come---" + +"I don't think your husband would favour that," I said. + +She put her hand out to me in a quick gesture. "I don't mean to give up +our friendship! I want you to understand, I intend to go on studying and +growing. I am doing what he asked me--it's right that I should think of +his wishes, and of the health of my child. But the child will be growing +up, and sooner or later my husband must grant me the right to think, +to have a life of my own. You must stand by me and help me, whatever +happens." + +I gave her my hand on that, and so we parted--for some time, as it +proved. I went up to Albany once more, in a last futile effort to save +our precious bill; and while I was there I got a note from her, saying +that she was leaving for the Florida Keys. + + + + + +BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER + + +For three months after this I had nothing but letters from Sylvia. She +proved to be an excellent letter-writer, full of verve and colour. +I would not say that she poured out her soul to me, but she gave me +glimpses of her states of mind, and the progress of her domestic drama. + +First, she described the place to which she had come; a ravishing spot, +where any woman ought to be happy. It was a little island, fringed with +a border of cocoanut-palms, which rustled and whispered day and night in +the breeze. It was covered with tropical foliage, and there was a long, +rambling bungalow, with screened "galleries," and a beach of hard white +sand in front. The water was blue, dazzling with sunshine, and dotted +with distant green islands; all of it, air, water, and islands, were +warm. "I don't realize till I get here," she said, "I am never really +happy in the North. I wrap myself against the assaults of a cruel enemy. +But here I am at home; I cast off my furs, I stretch out my arms, I +bloom. I believe I shall quite cease to think for a while--I shall +forget all storms and troubles, and bask on the sand like a lizard. + +"And the water! Mary, you cannot imagine such water; why should it be +blue on top, and green when you look down into it? I have a little skiff +of my own in which I drift, and I have been happy for hours, studying +the bottom; you see every colour of the rainbow, and all as clear as in +an aquarium. I have been fishing, too, and have caught a tarpon. That +is supposed to be a great adventure, and it really is quite thrilling to +feel the monstrous creature struggling with you--though, of course, my +arms soon gave out, and I had to turn him over to my husband. This is +one of the famous fishing-grounds of the world, and I am glad of that, +because it will keep the men happy while I enjoy the sunshine. + +"I have discovered a fascinating diversion," she wrote, in a second +letter. "I make them take me in the launch to one of the loneliest of +the keys; they go off to fish, and I have the whole day to myself, and +am as happy as a child on a picnic! I roam the beach, I take off my +shoes and stockings--there are no newspaper reporters snapping pictures. +I dare not go far in, for there are huge black creatures with dangerous +stinging tails; they rush away in a cloud of sand when I approach, but +the thought of stepping upon one by accident is terrifying. However, +I let the little wavelets wash round my toes, and I try to grab little +fish, and I pick up lovely shells; and then I go on, and I see a huge +turtle waddling to the water, and I dash up, and would stop him if I +dared, and then I find his eggs--such an adventure! + +"I am the prey of strange appetites and cravings. I have a delicious +luncheon with me, but suddenly the one thing in the world I want to +eat is turtle-eggs. I have no matches with me, and I do not know how to +build a fire like the Indians, so I have to hide the eggs back in the +sand until to-morrow. I hope the turtle does not move them--and that I +have not lost my craving in the meantime! + +"Then I go exploring inland. These islands were once the haunts of +pirates, so I may imagine all sorts of romantic things. What I find +are lemon-trees. I do not know if they are wild, or if the key was once +cultivated; the lemons are huge in size, and nearly all skin, but the +flavour is delicious. Turtle-eggs with wild lemon-juice! And then I go +on and come to a mangrove-swamp--dark and forbidding, a grisly place; +you imagine the trees are in torment, with limbs and roots tangled like +writhing serpents. I tiptoe in a little way, and then get frightened, +and run back to the beach. + +"I see on the sand a mysterious little yellow creature, running like the +wind; I make a dash, and get between him and his hole; and so he stands, +crouching on guard, staring at me, and I at him. He is some sort of +crab, but he stands on two legs like a caricature of a man; he has two +big weapons upraised for battle, and staring black eyes stuck out on +long tubes. He is an uncanny thing to look at; but then suddenly the +idea comes, How do I seem to him? I realize that he is alive; a tiny +mite of hunger for life, of fear and resolution. I think, How lonely he +must be! And I want to tell him that I love him, and would not hurt him +for the world; but I have no way to make him understand me, and all I +can do is to go away and leave him. I go, thinking what a strange +place the world is, with so many living things, each shut away apart by +himself, unable to understand the others or make the others understand +him. This is what is called philosophy, is it not? Tell me some books +where these things are explained.... + +"I am reading all you sent me. When I grew tired of exploring the key, I +lay down in the shade of a palm-tree, and read--guess what? 'Number Five +John Street'! So all this loveliness vanished, and I was back in the +world's nightmare. An extraordinary book! I decided that it would be +good for my husband, so I read him a few paragraphs; but I found that it +only irritated him. He wants me to rest, he says--he can't see why I've +come away to the Florida Keys to read about the slums of London. + +"My hope of gradually influencing his mind has led to a rather appalling +discovery--that he has the same intention as regards me! He too has +brought a selection of books, and reads to me a few pages every day, and +explains what they mean. He calls _this_ resting! I am no match for +him, of course--I never realized more keenly the worthlessness of my +education. But I see in a general way where his arguments tend--that +life is something that has grown, and is not in the power of men to +change; but even if he could convince me of this, I should not find it a +source of joy. I have a feeling always that if you were here, you would +know something to answer. + +"The truth is that I am so pained by the conflict between us that I +cannot argue at all. I find myself wondering what our marriage would +have been like if we had discovered that we had the same ideas and +interests. There are days and nights at a time when I tell myself that +I ought to believe what my husband believes, that I ought never have +allowed myself to think of anything else. But that really won't do as a +life-programme; I tried it years ago with my dear mother and father. Did +I ever tell you that my mother is firmly convinced in her heart that I +am to suffer eternally in a real hell of fire because I do not believe +certain things about the Bible? She still has visions of it--though not +so bad since she turned me over to a husband! + +"Now it is my husband who is worried about my ideas. He is reading a +book by Burke, a well-known old writer. The book deals with English +history, which I don't know much about, but I see that it resents modern +changes, and the whole spirit of change. And Mary, why can't I feel that +way? I really ought to love those old and stately things, I ought to +be reverent to the past; I was brought up that way. Sometimes I tremble +when I realize how very flippant and cynical I am. I seem to see the +wrong side of everything, so that I couldn't believe in it if I wanted +to!" + +2. Her letters were full of the wonders of Nature about her. There was +a snow-white egret who made his home upon her island; she watched his +fishing operations, and meant to find his nest, so as to watch his +young. The men made a trip into the Everglades, and brought back +wonder-tales of flocks of flamingoes making scarlet clouds in the sky, +huge colonies of birds' nests crowded like a city. They had brought home +a young one, which screamed all day to be stuffed with fish. + +A cousin of Sylvia's, Harley Chilton, had come to visit her. He had +taken van Tuiver on hunting-trips during the latter's courtship days, +and now was a good fishing-companion. He was not allowed to discover the +state of affairs between Sylvia and her husband, but he saw his cousin +reading serious books, and his contribution to the problem was to tell +her that she would get wrinkles in her face, and that even her feet +would grow big, like those of the ladies in New England. + +Also, there was the young physician who kept watch over Sylvia's +health; a dapper little man with pink and white complexion, and a brown +moustache from which he could not keep his fingers. He had a bungalow +to himself, but sometimes he went along on the launch-trips, and Sylvia +thought she observed wrinkles of amusement round his eyes whenever she +differed from her husband on the subject of Burke. She suspected +this young man of not telling all his ideas to his multi-millionaire +patients, and she was entertained by the prospect of probing him. + +Then came Mrs. Varina Tuis; who since the tragic cutting of her own +domestic knot, had given her life to the service of the happier members +of the Castleman line. She was now to be companion and counsellor to +Sylvia; and on the very day of her arrival she discovered the chasm that +was yawning in her niece's life. + +"It's wonderful," wrote Sylvia, "the intuition of the Castleman women. +We were in the launch, passing one of the viaducts of the new railroad, +and Aunt Varina exclaimed, 'What a wonderful piece of work!' 'Yes,' put +in my husband, 'but don't let Sylvia hear you say it.' 'Why not?' she +asked; and he replied, 'She'll tell you how many hours a day the poor +Dagoes have to work.' That was all; but I saw Aunt Varina give a quick +glance at me, and I saw that she was not fooled by my efforts to make +conversation. It was rather horrid of Douglas, for he knows that I love +these old people, and do not want them to know about my trouble. But it +is characteristic of him--when he is annoyed he seldom tries to spare +others. + +"As soon as we were alone, Aunt Varina began, 'Sylvia, my dear, what +does it mean? What have you done to worry your husband?' + +"You would be entertained if I could remember the conversation. I tried +to dodge the trouble by answering off-hand, 'Douglas had eaten too many +turtle-eggs for luncheon '--this being a man-like thing, that any dear +old lady would understand. But she was too shrewd. I had to explain +to her that I was learning to think, and this sent her into a perfect +panic. + +"'You actually mean, my child, that you are thinking about subjects to +which your husband objects, and you refuse to stop when he asks you to? +Surely you must know that he has some good reason for objecting.' + +"'I suppose so,' I said, 'but he has not made that reason clear to me; +and certainly I have a right--' + +"She would not hear any more than that. 'Right, Sylvia? Right? Are you +claiming the right to drive your husband from you?' + +"'But surely I can't regulate all my thinking by the fear of driving my +husband from me!' + +"'Sylvia, you take my breath away. Where did you get such ideas?' + +"'But answer me, Aunt Varina--can I?' + +"'What thinking is as important to a woman as thinking how to please +a good, kind husband? What would become of her family if she no longer +tried to do this?' + +"So you see, we opened up a large subject. I know you consider me a +backward person, and you may be interested to learn that there are some +to whom I seem a terrifying rebel. Picture poor Aunt Varina, her old +face full of concern, repeating over and over, 'My child, my child, I +hope I have come in time! Don't scorn the advice of a woman who has paid +bitterly for her mistakes. You have a good husband, a man who loves you +devotedly; you are one of the most fortunate of women--now do not throw +your happiness away!' + +"'Aunt Varina,' I said (I forget if I ever told you that her husband +gambled and drank, and finally committed suicide) 'Aunt Varina, do you +really believe that every man is so anxious to get away from his wife +that it must take her whole stock of energy, her skill in diplomacy, to +keep him?' + +"'Sylvia,' she answered, 'you put things so strangely, you use such +horribly crude language, I don't know how to talk to you!' (That must be +your fault, Mary. I never heard such a charge before.) 'I can only tell +you this--that the wife who permits herself to think about other things +than her duty to her husband and her children is taking a frightful +risk. She is playing with fire, Sylvia--she will realize too late what +it means to set aside the wisdom of her sex, the experience of other +women for ages and ages!' + +"So there you are, Mary! I am studying another unwritten book, the +Maxims of Aunt Varina! + +"She has found the remedy for my troubles, the cure for my disease of +thought--I am to sew! I tell her that I have more clothes than I can +wear in a dozen seasons, and she answers, in an awesome voice, 'There is +the little stranger!' When I point out that the little stranger will +be expected to have a 'layette' costing many thousands of dollars, she +replies, 'They will surely permit him to wear some of the things +his mother's hands have made.' So, behold me, seated on the gallery, +learning fancy stitches--and with Kautsky on the Social Revolution +hidden away in the bottom of my sewing-bag!" + +3. The weeks passed. The legislature at Albany adjourned, without regard +to our wishes; and so, like the patient spider whose web is destroyed, +we set to work upon a new one. So much money must be raised, so many +articles must be written, so many speeches delivered, so many people +seized upon and harried and wrought to a state of mind where they were +dangerous to the future career of legislators. Such is the process of +social reform under the private property regime; a process which the +pure and simple reformers imagine we shall tolerate for ever--God save +us! + +Sylvia asked me for the news, and I told it to her--how we had failed, +and what we had to do next. So pretty soon there came by registered mail +a little box, in which I found a diamond ring. "I cannot ask him for +money just now," she explained, "but here is something that has been +mine from girlhood. It cost about four hundred dollars--this for your +guidance in selling it. Not a day passes that I do not see many times +that much wasted; so take it for the cause." Queen Isabella and her +jewels! + +In this letter she told me of a talk she had had with her husband on the +"woman-problem." She had thought at first that it was going to prove a +helpful talk--he had been in a fairer mood than she was usually able to +induce. "He evaded some of my questions," she explained, "but I don't +think it was deliberate; it is simply the evasive attitude of mind which +the whole world takes. He says he does not think that women are inferior +to men, only that they are different; the mistake is for them to try to +become _like_ men. It is the old proposition of 'charm,' you see. I put +that to him, and he admitted that he did like to be 'charmed.' + +"I said, 'You wouldn't, if you knew as much about the process as I do.' + +"'Why not?' he asked. + +"'Because, it's not an honest process. It's not a straight way for one +sex to deal with the other.' + +"He asked what I meant by that; but then, remembering the cautions of +my great-aunt, I laughed. 'If you are going to compel me to use the +process, you can hardly expect me to tell you the secret of it.' + +"'Then there's no use trying to talk,' he said. + +"'Ah, but there is!' I exclaimed. 'You admit that I have 'charm'--dozens +of other men admitted it. And so it ought to count for something if +I declare that I know it's not an honest thing--that it depends upon +trickery, and appeals to the worst qualities in a man. For instance, his +vanity. "Flatter him," Lady Dee used to say. "He'll swallow it." And he +will--I never knew a man to refuse a compliment in my life. His love of +domination. "If you want anything, make him think that _he_ wants it!" +His egotism. She had a bitter saying--I can hear the very tones of her +voice: "When in doubt, talk about HIM." That is what is called "charm"!' + +"'I don't seem to feel it,' he said. + +"' No, because now you are behind the scenes. But when you were in +front, you felt it, you can't deny. And you would feel it again, any +time I chose to use it. But I want to know if there is not some honest +way a woman can interest a man. The question really comes to this--Can a +man love a woman for what she really is?' + +"'I should say,' he said, 'that it depends upon the woman.' + +"I admitted this was a plausible answer. 'But you loved me, when I made +myself a mystery to you. But now that I am honest with you, you have +made it clear that you don't like it, that you won't have it. And that +is the problem that women have to face. It is a fact that the women +of our family have always ruled the men; but they've done it by +indirection--nobody ever thought seriously of "women's rights" in +Castleman County. But you see, women _have_ rights; and somehow or other +they will fool the men, or else the men must give up the idea that +they are the superior sex, and have the right, or the ability, to rule +women.' + +"Then I saw how little he had followed me. 'There has to be a head to +the family,' he said. + +"I answered, 'There have been cases in history of a king and queen +ruling together, and getting along very well. Why not the same thing in +a family?' + +"'That's all right, so far as the things of the family are concerned. +But such affairs as business and politics are in the sphere of men; +and women cannot meddle in them without losing their best qualities as +women.' + +"And so there we were. I won't repeat his arguments, for doubtless you +have read enough anti-suffrage literature. The thing I noticed was that +if I was very tactful and patient, I could apparently carry him along +with me; but when the matter came up again, I would discover that he +was back where he had been before. A woman must accept the guidance of +a man; she must take the man's word for the things that he understands. +'But suppose the man is _wrong?_' I said; and there we stopped--there we +shall stop always, I begin to fear. I agree with him that woman should +obey man--so long as man is right!" + +4. Her letters did not all deal with this problem. In spite of the +sewing, she found time to read a number of books, and we argued about +these. Then, too, she had been probing her young doctor, and had made +interesting discoveries about him. For one thing, he was full of awe +and admiration for her; and her awakening mind found material for +speculation in this. + +"Here is this young man; he thinks he is a scientist, he rather prides +himself upon being cold-blooded; yet a cunning woman could twist him +round her finger. He had an unhappy love-affair when he was young, so he +confided to me; and now, in his need and loneliness, a beautiful woman +is transformed into something supernatural in his imagination--she is +like a shimmering soap-bubble, that he blows with his own breath. I know +that I could never get him to see the real truth about me; I might tell +him that I have let myself be tied up in a golden net--but he would only +marvel at my spirituality. Oh, the women I have seen trading upon the +credulity of men! And when I think how I did this myself! If men +were wise, they would give us the vote, and a share in the world's +work--anything that would bring us out into the light of day, and break +the spell of mystery that hangs round us! + +"By the way," she wrote in another letter, "there will be trouble if you +come down here. I was telling Dr. Perrin about you, and your ideas about +fasting, and mental healing, and the rest of your fads. He got very +much excited. It seems that he takes his diploma seriously, and he's not +willing to be taught by amateur experiments. He wanted me to take some +pills, and I refused, and I think now he blames you for it. He has found +a bond of sympathy with my husband, who proves his respect for authority +by taking whatever he is told to take. Dr. Perrin got his medical +training here in the South, and I imagine he's ten or twenty years +behind the rest of the medical world. Douglas picked him out because +he'd met him socially. It makes no difference to me--because I don't +mean to have any doctoring done to me!" + +Then, on top of these things, would come a cry from her soul. "Mary, +what will you do if some day you get a letter from me confessing that I +am not happy? I dare not say a word to my own people. I am supposed to +be at the apex of human triumph, and I have to play that role to keep +from hurting them. I know that if my dear old father got an inkling of +the truth, it would kill him. My one real solid consolation is that I +have helped him, that I have lifted a money-burden from his life; I have +done that, I tell myself, over and over; but then I wonder, have I done +anything but put the reckoning off? I have given all his other children +a new excuse for extravagance, an impulse towards worldliness which they +did not need. + +"There is my sister Celeste, for example. I don't think I have told you +about her. She made her _debut_ last fall, and was coming up to New York +to stay with me this winter. She had it all arranged in her mind to make +a rich marriage; I was to give her the _entree_--and now I have been +selfish, and thought of my own desires, and gone away. Can I say to her, +Be warned by me, I have made a great match, and it has not brought me +happiness? She would not understand, she would say I was foolish. She +would say, 'If I had your luck, _I_ would be happy.' And the worst of it +is, it would be true. + +"You see the position I am in with the rest of the children. I cannot +say, 'You are spending too much of papa's money, it is wrong for you to +sign cheques and trust to his carelessness.' I have had my share of the +money, I have lined my own nest. All I can do is to buy dresses and hats +for Celeste; and know that she will use these to fill her girl-friends +with envy, and make scores of other families live beyond their means." + +5. Sylvia's pregnancy was moving to its appointed end. She wrote me +beautifully about it, much more frankly and simply than she could have +brought herself to talk. She recalled to me my own raptures, and +also, my own heartbreak. "Mary! Mary! I felt the child to-day! Such a +sensation, I could not have credited it if anyone had told me. I almost +fainted. There is something in me that wants to turn back, that is +afraid to go on with such experiences. I do not wish to be seized in +spite of myself, and made to feel things beyond my control. I wander off +down the beach, and hide myself, and cry and cry. I think I could almost +pray again." + +And then again, "I am in ecstasy, because I am to bear a child, a child +of my own! Oh, wonderful, wonderful! But suddenly my ecstasy is shot +through with terror, because the father of this child is a man I do not +love. There is no use trying to deceive myself--nor you! I must have one +human soul with whom I can talk about it as it really is. I do not love +him, I never did love him, I never shall love him! + +"Oh, how could they have all been so mistaken? Here is Aunt Varina--one +of those who helped to persuade me into this marriage. She told me that +love would come; it seemed to be her idea--my mother had it too--that +you had only to submit yourself to a man, to follow and obey him, and +love would take possession of your heart. I tried credulously, and it +did not happen as they promised. And now, I am to bear him a child; and +that will bind us together for ever! + +"Oh, the despair of it--I do not love the father of my child! I say, The +child will be partly his, perhaps more his than mine. It will be like +him--it will have this quality and that, the very qualities, perhaps, +that are a source of distress to me in the father. So I shall have these +things before me day and night, all the rest of my life; I shall have to +see them growing and hardening; it will be a perpetual crucifixion of +my mother-love. I seek to comfort myself by saying, The child can be +trained differently, so that he will not have these qualities. But then +I think, No, you cannot train him as you wish. Your husband will have +rights to the child, rights superior to your own. Then I foresee the +most dreadful strife between us. + +"A shrewd girl-friend once told me that I ought to be better or worse; I +ought not to see people's faults as I do, or else I ought to love people +less. And I can see that I ought to have been too good to make this +marriage, or else not too good to make the best of it. I know that +I might be happy as Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, if I could think of the +worldly advantages, and the fact that my child will inherit them. But +instead, I see them as a trap, in which not only ourselves but the child +is caught, and from which I cannot save us. Oh, what a mistake a woman +makes when she marries a man with the idea that she is going to change +him! He will not change, he will not have the need of change suggested +to him. He wants _peace_ in his home--which means that he wants to be +what he is. + +"Sometimes I can study the situation quite coolly, and as if it didn't +concern me at all. He has required me to subject my mind to his. But +he will not be content with a general capitulation; he must have a +surrender from each individual soldier, from every rebel hidden in the +hills. He tracks them out (my poor, straggling, feeble ideas) and either +they take the oath of allegiance, or they are buried where they lie. The +process is like the spoiling of a child, I find; the more you give him, +the more he wants. And if any little thing is refused, then you see him +set out upon a regular campaign to break you down and get it." + +A month or more later she wrote: "Poor Douglas is getting restless. He +has caught every kind of fish there is to catch, and hunted every kind +of animal and bird, in and out of season. Harley has gone home, and so +have our other guests; it would be embarrassing to me to have company +now. So Douglas has no one but the doctor and myself and my poor aunt. +He has spoken several times of our going away; but I do not want to go, +and I think I ought to consider my own health at this critical time. It +is hot here, but I simply thrive in it--I never felt in better health. +So I asked him to go up to New York, or visit somewhere for a while, +and let me stay here until my baby is born. Does that seem so very +unreasonable? It does not to me, but poor Aunt Varina is in agony about +it--I am letting my husband drift away from me! + +"I speculate about my lot as a woman; I see the bitterness and the +sorrow of my sex through the ages. I have become physically misshapen, +so that I am no longer attractive to him. I am no longer active and +free, I can no longer go about with him; on the contrary, I am a burden, +and he is a man who never tolerated a burden before. What this means is +that I have lost the magic hold of sex. + +"As a woman it was my business to exert all my energies to maintain it. +And I know how I could restore it now; there is young Dr. Perrin! _He_ +does not find me a burden, _he_ would tolerate any deficiencies! And +I can see my husband on the alert in an instant, if I become too much +absorbed in discussing your health-theories with my handsome young +guardian! + +"This is one of the recognized methods of keeping your husband; I +learned from Lady Dee all there is to know about it. But I would find +the method impossible now, even if my happiness were dependent upon +retaining my husband's love. I should think of the rights of my friend, +the little doctor. That is one point to note for the 'new' woman, is it +not? You may mention it in your next suffrage-speech! + +"There are other methods, of course. I have a mind, and I might turn its +powers to entertaining him, instead of trying to solve the problems of +the universe. But to do this, I should have to believe that it was the +one thing in the world for me to do; and I have permitted a doubt of +that to gain entrance to my brain! My poor aunt's exhortations inspire +me to efforts to regain the faith of my mothers, but I simply cannot--I +cannot! She sits by me with the terror of all the women of all the ages +in her eyes. I am losing a man! + +"I don't know if you have ever set out to hold a man--deliberately, +I mean. Probably you haven't. That bitter maxim of Lady Dee's is the +literal truth of it--'When in doubt, talk about HIM!' If you will +tactfully and shrewdly keep a man talking about himself, his tastes, +his ideas, his work and the importance of it, there is never the least +possibility of your boring him. You must not just tamely agree with him, +of course; if you hint a difference now and then, and make him convince +you, he will find that stimulating; or if you can manage not to be quite +convinced, but sweetly open to conviction, he will surely call again. +'Keep him busy every minute,' Lady Dee used to say. 'Run away with him +now and then--like a spirited horse!' And she would add, 'But don't let +him drop the reins!' + +"You can have no idea how many women there are in the world deliberately +playing such parts. Some of them admit it; others just do the thing that +is easiest, and would die of horror if they were told what it is. It +is the whole of the life of a successful society woman, young or old. +Pleasing a man! Waiting upon his moods, piquing him, flattering him, +feeding his vanity--'charming' him! That is what Aunt Varina wants me to +do now; if I am not too crude in my description of the process, she has +no hesitation in admitting the truth. It is what she tried to do, it is +what almost every woman has done who has held a family together and made +a home. I was reading _Jane Eyre_ the other day. _There_ is your woman's +ideal of an imperious and impetuous lover! Listen to him, when his mood +is on him!-- + +"I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night; and that +is why I sent for you; the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient +company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. +To-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and +recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out--to learn +more of you--therefore speak!" + +6. It was now May, and Sylvia's time was little more than a month off. +She had been urging me to come and visit her, but I had refused, knowing +that my presence must necessarily be disturbing to both her husband and +her aunt. But now she wrote that her husband was going back to New +York. "He was staying out of a sense of duty to me," she said. "But his +discontent was so apparent that I had to point out to him that he was +doing harm to me as well as to himself. + +"I doubt if you will want to come here now. The last of the winter +visitors have left. It is really hot, so hot that you cannot get cool by +going into the water. Yet I am revelling in it; I wear almost nothing, +and that white; and even the suspicious Dr. Perrin cannot but admit that +I am thriving; his references to pills are purely formal. + +"Lately I have not permitted myself to think much about the situation +between my husband and myself. I cannot blame him, and I cannot blame +myself, and I am trying to keep my peace of mind till my baby is born. I +have found myself following half-instinctively the procedure you told +me about; I talk to my own subconscious mind, and to the baby--I command +them to be well. I whisper to them things that are not so very far from +praying; but I don't think my poor dear mamma would recognize it in its +new scientific dress! + +"But sometimes I can't help thinking of the child and its future, +and then all of a sudden my heart is ready to break with pity for the +child's father! I have the consciousness that I do not love him, and +that he has always known it--and that makes me remorseful. But I told +him the truth before we married--he promised to be patient with me till +I had learned to love him! Now I want to burst into tears and cry aloud, +'Oh, why did you do it? Why did I let myself be persuaded into this +marriage?' + +"I tried to have a talk with him last night, after he had decided to go +away. I was full of pity, and a desire to help. I said I wanted him +to know that no matter how much we might disagree about some things, +I meant to learn to live happily with him. We must find some sort of +compromise, for the sake of the child, if not for ourselves; we must not +let the child suffer. He answered coldly that there would be no need +for the child to suffer, the child would have the best the world could +afford. I suggested that there might arise some question as to just +what the best was; but to that he said nothing. He went on to rebuke my +discontent; had he not given me everything a woman could want? he asked. +He was too polite to mention money; but he said that I had leisure and +entire freedom from care. I was persisting in assuming cares, while he +was doing all in his power to prevent it. + +"And that was as far as we got. I gave up the discussion, for we should +only have gone the old round over again. + +"Douglas has taken up a saying that my cousin brought with him: 'What +you don't know won't hurt you!' I think that before he left, Harley had +begun to suspect that all was not well between my husband and myself, +and he felt it necessary to give me a little friendly counsel. He was +tactful, and politely vague, but I understood him--my worldly-wise young +cousin. I think that saying of his sums up the philosophy that he would +teach to all women--'What you don't know won't hurt you!'" + +7. A week or so later Sylvia wrote me that her husband was in New +York. And I waited another week, for good measure, and then one morning +dropped in for a call upon Claire Lepage. + +Why did I do it? you ask. I had no definite purpose--only a general +opposition to the philosophy of Cousin Harley. + +I was ushered into Claire's boudoir, which was still littered with last +evening's apparel. She sat in a dressing-gown with resplendent red roses +on it, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, and apologized for not +being ready for callers. + +"I've just had a talking to from Larry," she explained. + +"Larry?" said I, inquiringly; for Claire had always informed me +elaborately that van Tuiver had been her one departure from propriety, +and always would be. + +Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences +were too much trouble. "I've come to the conclusion that I don't know +how to manage men," she said. "I never can get along with one for any +time." + +I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I had +only tried it once. "Tell me," I said, "who's Larry?" + +"There's his picture." She reached into a drawer of her dresser. + +I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know better. +"He doesn't seem especially forbidding," I said. + +"That's just the trouble--you can never tell about men!" + +I noted a date on the picture. "He seems to be an old friend. You never +told me about him." + +"He doesn't like being told about. He has a troublesome wife." + +I winced inwardly, but all I said was, "I see." + +"He's a stock-broker; and he got 'squeezed,' so he says, and it's +made him cross--and careful with his money, too. That's trying, in a +stock-broker, you must admit." She laughed. "And still he's just as +particular--wants to have his own way in everything, wants to say whom I +shall know and where I shall go. I said, 'I have all the inconveniences +of matrimony, and none of the advantages.'" + +I made some remark upon the subject of the emancipation of woman; and +Claire, who was now leaning back in her chair, combing out her long +black tresses, smiled at me out of half-closed eyelids. "Guess whom he's +objecting to!" she said. And when I pronounced it impossible, she looked +portentous. "There are bigger fish in the sea than Larry Edgewater!" + +"And you've hooked one?" I asked, innocently. + +"Well, I don't mean to give up all my friends." + +I went on casually to talk about my plans for the summer; and a few +minutes later, after a lull--"By the way," remarked Claire, "Douglas van +Tuiver is in town." + +"How do you know?" + +"I've seen him." + +"Indeed! Where?" + +"I got Jack Taylor to invite me again. You see, when Douglas fell in +love with his peerless southern beauty, Jack predicted he'd get over it +even more quickly. Now he's interested in proving he was right." + +I waited a moment, and then asked, carelessly, "Is he having any +success?" + +"I said, 'Douglas, why don't you come to see me?' He was in a playful +mood. 'What do you want? A new automobile?' I answered, 'I haven't any +automobile, new or old, and you know it. What I want is you. I always +loved you--surely I proved that to you.' 'What you proved to me was that +you were a sort of wild-cat. I'm afraid of you. And anyway, I'm tired of +women. I'll never trust another one.'" + +"About the same conclusion as you've come to regarding men," I remarked. + +"'Douglas,' I said, 'come and see me, and we'll talk over old times. +You may trust me, I swear I'll not tell a living soul.' 'You've been +consoling yourself with someone else,' he said. But I knew he was only +guessing. He was seeking for something that would worry me, and he said, +'You're drinking too much. People that drink can't be trusted.' 'You +know,' I replied, 'I didn't drink too much when I was with you. I'm not +drinking as much as you are, right now.' He answered, 'I've been off on +a desert island for God knows how many months, and I'm celebrating my +escape.' 'Well,' I answered, 'let me help celebrate!'" + +"What did he say to that?" + +Claire resumed the combing of her silken hair, and smiled a slow smile +at me. "'You may trust me, Douglas,' I said. 'I swear I'll not tell a +living soul!'" + +"Of course," I remarked, appreciatively, "that means he said he'd come!" + +"_I_ haven't told you!" was the reply. + +8. I knew that I had only to wait for Claire to tell me the rest of the +story. But her mind went off on another tack. "Sylvia's going to have a +baby," she remarked, suddenly. + +"That ought to please her husband," I said. + +"You can see him beginning to swell with paternal pride!--so Jack said. +He sent for a bottle of some famous kind of champagne that he has, to +celebrate the new 'millionaire baby.' (They used to call Douglas that, +once upon a time.) Before they got through, they had made it triplets. +Jack says Douglas is the one man in New York who can afford them." + +"Your friend Jack seems to be what they call a wag," I commented. + +"It isn't everybody that Douglas will let carry on with him like that. +He takes himself seriously, as a rule. And he expects to take the new +baby seriously." + +"It generally binds a man tighter to his wife, don't you think?" + +I watched her closely, and saw her smile at my naivete. "No," she said, +"I don't. It leaves them restless. It's a bore all round." + +I did not dispute her authority; she ought to know her husbands, I +thought. + +She was facing the mirror, putting up her hair; and in the midst of the +operation she laughed. "All that evening, while we were having a jolly +time at Jack Taylor's, Larry was here waiting." + +"Then no wonder you had a row!" I said. + +"He hadn't told me he was coming. And was I to sit here all night alone? +It's always the same--I never knew a man who really in his heart was +willing for you to have any friends, or any sort of good time without +him." + +"Perhaps," I replied, "he's afraid you mightn't be true to him." I +meant this for a jest, of the sort that Claire and her friends would +appreciate. Little did I foresee where it was to lead us! + +I remember how once on the farm my husband had a lot of dynamite, +blasting out stumps; and my emotions when I discovered the children +innocently playing with a stick of it. Something like these children I +seem now to myself, looking back on this visit to Claire, and our talk. + +"You know," she observed, without smiling, "Larry's got a bee in his +hat. I've seen men who were jealous, and kept watch over women, but +never one that was obsessed like him." + +"What's it about?" + +"He's been reading a book about diseases, and he tells me tales about +what may happen to me, and what may happen to him. When you've listened +a while, you can see microbes crawling all over the walls of the room." + +"Well----" I began. + +"I was sick of his lecturing, so I said, 'Larry, you'll have to do like +me--have everything there is, and get over it, and then you won't need +to worry.'" + +I sat still, staring at her; I think I must have stopped breathing. +At the end of an eternity, I said, "You've not really had any of these +diseases, Claire?" + +"Who hasn't?" she countered. + +Again there was a pause. "You know," I observed, "some of them are +dangerous----" + +"Oh, of course," she answered, lightly. "There's one that makes your +nose fall in and your hair fall out--but you haven't seen anything like +that happening to me!" + +"But there's another," I hinted--"one that's much more common." And when +she did not take the hint, I continued, "Also it's more serious than +people generally realize." + +She shrugged her shoulders. "What of it? Men bring you these things, and +it's part of the game. So what's the use of bothering?" + +9. There was a long silence; I had to have time to decide what course to +take. There was so much that I wanted to get from her, and so much that +I wanted to hide from her! + +"I don't want to bore you, Claire," I began, finally, "but really this +is a matter of importance to you. You see, I've been reading up on the +subject as well as Larry. The doctors have been making new discoveries. +They used to think this was just a local infection, like a cold, but now +they find it's a blood disease, and has the gravest consequences. For +one thing, it causes most of the surgical operations that have to be +performed on women." + +"Maybe so," she said, still indifferent. "I've had two operations. But +it's ancient history now." + +"You mayn't have reached the end yet," I persisted. "People suppose they +are cured of gonorrhea, when really it's only suppressed, and is liable +to break out again at any time." + +"Yes, I knew. That's some of the information Larry had been making love +to me with." + +"It may get into the joints and cause rheumatism; it may cause +neuralgia; it's been known to affect the heart. Also it causes +two-thirds of all the blindness in infants----" + +And suddenly Claire laughed. "That's Sylvia Castleman's lookout it seems +to me!" + +"Oh! OH!" I whispered, losing my self-control. + +"What's the matter?" she asked, and I noticed that her voice had become +sharp. + +"Do you really mean what you've just implied?" + +"That Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver may have to pay something for what she has +done to me? Well, what of it?" And suddenly Claire flew into a passion, +as she always did when our talk came to her rival. "Why shouldn't she +take chances the same as the rest of us? Why should I have it and she +get off?" + +I fought for my composure. After a pause, I said: "It's not a thing +we want anybody to have, Claire. We don't want anybody to take such a +chance. The girl ought to have been told." + +"Told? Do you imagine she would have given up her great catch?" + +"She might have, how can you be sure? Anyhow, she should have had the +chance." + +There was a long silence. I was so shaken that it was hard for me to +find words. "As a matter of fact," said Claire, grimly, "I thought of +warning her myself. There'd have been some excitement at least! You +remember--when they came out of church. You helped to stop me!" + +"It would have been too late then," I heard myself saying. + +"Well," she exclaimed, with fresh excitement, "it's Miss Sylvia's +turn now! We'll see if she's such a grand lady that she can't get my +diseases!" + +I could no longer contain myself. "Claire," I cried, "you are talking +like a devil!" + +She picked up a powder-puff, and began to use it diligently. "I know," +she said--and I saw her burning eyes in the glass--"you can't fool me. +You've tried to be kind, but you despise me in your heart. You think I'm +as bad as any woman of the street. Very well then, I speak for my class, +and I tell you, this is where we prove our humanity. They throw us out, +but you see we get back in!" + +"My dear woman," I said, "you don't understand. You'd not feel as you +do, If you knew that the person to pay the penalty might be an innocent +little child." + +"_Their_ child! Yes, it's too bad if there has to be anything the matter +with the little prince! But I might as well tell you the truth--I've had +that in mind all along. I didn't know just what would happen, or how--I +don't believe anybody does, the doctors who pretend to are just faking +you. But I knew Douglas was rotten, and maybe his children would be +rotten, and they'd all of them suffer. That was one of the things that +kept me from interfering and smashing him up." + +I was speechless now, and Claire, watching me, laughed. "You look as if +you'd had no idea of it. Don't you know that I told you at the time?" + +"You told me at the time!" + +"I suppose, you didn't understand. I'm apt to talk French when I'm +excited. We have a saying: 'The wedding present which the mistress +leaves in the basket of the bride.' That was pretty near telling, wasn't +it?" + +"Yes," I said, in a low voice. + +And the other, after watching me for a moment more, went on: "You think +I'm revengeful, don't you? Well, I used to reproach myself with this, +and I tried to fight it down; but the time comes when you want people to +pay for what they take from you. Let me tell you something that I never +told to anyone, that I never expected to tell. You see me drinking and +going to the devil; you hear me talking the care-free talk of my world, +but in the beginning I was really in love with Douglas van Tuiver, and +I wanted his child. I wanted it so that it was an ache to me. And yet, +what chance did I have? I'd have been the joke of his set for ever if +I'd breathed it; I'd have been laughed out of the town. I even tried at +one time to trap him--to get his child in spite of him, but I found that +the surgeons had cut me up, and I could never have a child. So I have +to make the best of it--I have to agree with my friends that it's a good +thing, it saves me trouble! But _she_ comes along, and she has what +I wanted, and all the world thinks it wonderful and sublime. She's a +beautiful young mother! What's she ever done in her life that she has +everything, and I go without? You may spend your time shedding tears +over her and what may happen to her but for my part, I say this--let her +take her chances! Let her take her chances with the other women in the +world--the women she's too good and too pure to know anything about!" + +10. I came out of Claire's house, sick with horror. Not since the time +when I had read my poor nephew's letter had I been so shaken. Why had +I not thought long ago of questioning Claire about these matters. How +could I have left Sylvia all this time exposed to peril? + +The greatest danger was to her child at the time of birth. I figured up, +according to the last letter I had received; there was about ten days +yet, and so I felt some relief. I thought first of sending a telegram, +but reflected that it would be difficult, not merely to tell her what to +do in a telegram, but to explain to her afterwards why I had chosen +this extraordinary method. I recollected that in her last letter she had +mentioned the name of the surgeon who was coming from New York to attend +her during her confinement. Obviously the thing for me to do was to see +this surgeon. + +"Well, madame?" he said, when I was seated in his inner office. + +He was a tall, elderly man, immaculately groomed, and formal and precise +in his manner. "Dr. Overton," I began, "my friend, Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver writes me that you are going to Florida shortly." + +"That is correct," he said. + +"I have come to see you about a delicate matter. I presume I need hardly +say that I am relying upon the seal of professional secrecy." + +I saw his gaze become suddenly fixed. "Certainly, madame," he said. + +"I am taking this course because Mrs. van Tuiver is a very dear friend +of mine, and I am concerned about her welfare. It has recently come +to my knowledge that she has become exposed to infection by a venereal +disease." + +He would hardly have started more if I had struck him. "HEY?" he cried, +forgetting his manners. + +"It would not help you any," I said, "if I were to go into details +about this unfortunate matter. Suffice it to say that my information is +positive and precise--that it could hardly be more so." + +There was a long silence. He sat with eyes rivetted upon me. "What is +this disease?" he demanded, at last. + +I named it, and then again there was a pause. "How long has this--this +possibility of infection existed?" + +"Ever since her marriage, nearly eighteen months ago." + +That told him a good part of the story. I felt his look boring me +through. Was I a mad woman? Or some new kind of blackmailer? Or, was +I, possibly, a Claire? I was grateful for my forty-cent bonnet and my +forty-seven years. + +"Naturally," he said at length, "this information startles me." + +"When you have thought it over," I responded, "you will realise that no +possible motive could bring me here but concern for the welfare of my +friend." + +He took a few moments to consider. "That may be true, madame, but let me +add that when you say you KNOW this----" + +He stopped. "I MEAN that I know it," I said, and stopped in turn. + +"Has Mrs. van Tuiver herself any idea of this situation?" + +"None whatever. On the contrary, she was assured before her marriage +that no such possibility existed." + +Again I felt him looking through me, but I left him to make what he +could of my information. "Doctor," I continued, "I presume there is +no need to point out to a man in your position the seriousness of this +matter, both to the mother and to the child." + +"Certainly there is not." + +"I assume that you are familiar with the precautions that have to be +taken with regard to the eyes of the child?" + +"Certainly, madame." This with just a touch of HAUTEUR, and then, +suddenly: "Are you by any chance a nurse?" + +"No," I replied, "but many years ago I was forced by tragedy in my +own family to realise the seriousness of the venereal peril. So when I +learned this fact about my friend, my first thought was that you should +be informed of it. I trust that you will appreciate my position." + +"Certainly, madame, certainly," he made haste to say. "You are quite +right, and you may rest assured that everything will be done that our +best knowledge directs. I only regret that the information did not come +to me sooner." + +"It only came to me about an hour ago," I said, as I rose to leave. "The +blame, therefore, must rest upon another person." + +I needed to say no more. He bowed me politely out, and I walked down +the street, and realised that I was restless and wretched. I wandered +at random for a while, trying to think what else I could do, for my own +peace of mind, if not for Sylvia's welfare. I found myself inventing one +worry after another. Dr. Overton had not said just when he was going, +and suppose she were to need someone at once? Or suppose something were +to happen to him--if he were to be killed upon the long train-journey? I +was like a mother who has had a terrible dream about her child--she must +rush and fling her arms about the child. I realised that I wanted to see +Sylvia! + +She had begged me to come; and I was worn out and had been urged by the +office to take a rest. Suddenly I bolted into a store, and telephoned +the railroad station about trains to Southern Florida. I hailed a +taxi-cab, rode to my home post-haste, and flung a few of my belongings +into a bag and the waiting cab sped with me to the ferry. In little +more than two hours after Claire had told me the dreadful tidings, I was +speeding on my way to Sylvia. + +11. From a train-window I had once beheld a cross-section of America +from West to East; now I beheld another from North to South. In the +afternoon were the farms and country-homes of New Jersey; and then in +the morning endless wastes of wilderness, and straggling fields of +young corn and tobacco; turpentine forests, with half-stripped negroes +working, and a procession of "depots," with lanky men chewing tobacco, +and negroes basking in the blazing sun. Then another night, and there +was the pageant of Florida: palmettos, and other trees of which one had +seen pictures in the geography books; stretches of vine-tangled swamps, +where one looked for alligators; orange-groves in blossom, and gardens +full of flowers beyond imagining. Every hour, of course, it got hotter; +I was not, like Sylvia, used to it, and whenever the train stopped I sat +by the open window, mopping the perspiration from my face. + +We were due at Miami in the afternoon; but there was a freight-train +off the track ahead of us, and so for three hours I sat chafing with +impatience, worrying the conductor with futile questions. I had to make +connections at Miami with a train which ran to the last point on the +mainland, where the construction-work over the keys was going forward. +And if I missed that last train, I would have to wait in Miami till +morning. I had better wait there, anyhow, the conductor argued; but I +insisted that my friends, to whom I had telegraphed two days before, +would meet me with a launch and take me to their place that night. + +We got in half an hour late for the other train; but this was the South, +I discovered, and they had waited for us. I shifted my bag and myself +across the platform, and we moved on. But then another problem arose; we +were running into a storm. It came with great suddenness; one minute +all was still, with a golden sunset, and the next it was so dark that I +could barely see the palm-trees, bent over, swaying madly--like people +with arms stretched out, crying in distress. I could hear the roaring +of the wind above that of the train, and I asked the conductor in +consternation if this could be a hurricane. It was not the season for +hurricanes, he replied; but it was "some storm, all right," and I would +not find any boat to take me to the keys until it was over. + +It was absurd of me to be nervous, I kept telling myself; but there was +something in me that cried out to be there, to be there! I got out +of the train, facing what I refrain from calling a hurricane out of +deference to local authority. It was all I could do to keep from being +blown across the station-platform, and I was drenched with the spray +and bewildered by the roaring of the waves that beat against the pier +beyond. Inside the station, I questioned the agent. The launch of the +van Tuivers had not been in that day; if it had been on the way, it must +have sought shelter somewhere. My telegram to Mrs. van Tuiver had been +received two days before, and delivered by a boatman whom they employed +for that purpose. Presumably, therefore, I would be met. I asked how +long this gale was apt to last; the answer was from one to three days. + +Then I asked about shelter for the night. This was a "jumping-off" +place, said the agent, with barracks and shanties for a +construction-gang; there were saloons, and what was called a hotel, but +it wouldn't do for a lady. I pleaded that I was not fastidious--being +anxious to nullify the effect which the name van Tuiver had produced. +But the agent would have it that the place was unfit for even a Western +farmer's wife; and as I was not anxious to take the chance of being +blown overboard in the darkness, I spent the night on one of the benches +in the station. I lay, listening to the incredible clamour of wind and +waves, feeling the building quiver, and wondering if each gust might not +blow it away. + +I was out at dawn, the force of the wind having abated somewhat by that +time. I saw before me a waste of angry foam-strewn water, with no sign +of any craft upon it. Late in the morning came the big steamer which +ran to Key West, in connection with the railroad; it made a difficult +landing, and I interviewed the captain, with the idea of bribing him to +take me to my destination. But he had his schedule, which neither storms +nor the name of van Tuiver could alter. Besides, he pointed out, he +could not land me at their place, as his vessel drew too much water to +get anywhere near; and if he landed me elsewhere, I should be no better +off, "If your friends are expecting you, they'll come here," he said, +"and their launch can travel when nothing else can." + +To pass the time I went to inspect the viaduct of the railway-to-be. The +first stretch was completed, a long series of concrete arches, running +out, apparently, into the open sea. It was one of the engineering +wonders of the world, but I fear I did not appreciate it. Towards +mid-afternoon I made out a speck of a boat over the water, and my +friend, the station-agent, remarked, "There's your launch." + +I expressed my amazement that they should have ventured out in such +weather. I had had in mind the kind of tiny open craft that one hears +making day and night hideous at summer-resorts; but when the "Merman" +drew near, I realized afresh what it was to be the guest of a +multi-millionaire. She was about fifty feet long, a vision of polished +brass and shining, new-varnished cedar. She rammed her shoulder into the +waves and flung them contemptuously to one side; her cabin was tight, +dry as the saloon of a liner. + +Three men emerged on deck to assist in the difficult process of making a +landing. One of them sprang to the dock, and confronting me, inquired +if I was Mrs. Abbott. He explained that they had set out to meet me the +previous afternoon, but had had to take refuge behind one of the keys. + +"How is Mrs. van Tuiver?" I asked, quickly. + +"She is well." + +"I don't suppose--the baby----" I hinted. + +"No, ma'am, not yet," said the man; and after that I felt interested in +what he had to say about the storm and its effects. We could return at +once, it seemed, if I did not mind being pitched about. + +"How long does it take?" I asked. + +"Three hours, in weather like this. It's about fifty miles." + +"But then it will be dark," I objected. + +"That won't matter, ma'am--we have plenty of light of our own. We shan't +have trouble, unless the wind rises, and there's a chain of keys all the +way, where we can get shelter if it does. The worst you have to fear is +spending a night on board." + +I reflected that I could not well be more uncomfortable than I had been +the previous night, so I voted for a start. There was mail and some +supplies to be put on board; then I made a spring for the deck, as +it surged up towards me on a rising wave, and in a moment more the +cabin-door had shut behind me, and I was safe and snug, in the midst +of leather and mahogany and electric-lighted magnificence. Through the +heavy double windows I saw the dock swing round behind us, and saw the +torrents of green spray sweep over us and past. I grasped at the seat to +keep myself from being thrown forward, and then grasped behind, to keep +from going in that direction. I had a series of sensations as of +an elevator stopping suddenly--and then I draw the curtains of the +"Merman's" cabin, and invite the reader to pass by. This is Sylvia's +story, and not mine, and it is of no interest what happened to me during +that trip. I will only remind the reader that I had lived my life in the +far West, and there were some things I could not have foreseen. + +12. "We are there, ma'am," I heard one of the boatmen say, and I +realised vaguely that the pitching had ceased. He helped me to sit up, +and I saw the search-light of the craft sweeping the shore of an island. +"It passes off 'most as quick as it comes, ma'am," added my supporter, +and for this I murmured feeble thanks. + +We came to a little bay, where the power was shut off, and we glided +towards the shore. There was a boat-house, a sort of miniature dry-dock, +with a gate which closed behind us. I had visions of Sylvia waiting to +meet me, but apparently our arrival had not been noted, and for this I +was grateful. There were seats in the boat-house, and I sank into one, +and asked the man to wait a few minutes while I recovered myself. When I +got up and went to the house, what I found made me quickly forget that I +had such a thing as a body. + +There was a bright moon, I remember, and I could see the long, low +bungalow, with windows gleaming through the palm-trees. A woman's figure +emerged from the house and came down the white shell-path to meet me. My +heart leaped. My beloved! + +But then I saw it was the English maid, whom I had come to know in New +York; I saw, too, that her face was alight with excitement. "Oh, my +lady!" she cried. "The baby's come!" + +It was like a blow in the face. "_What?_" I gasped. + +"Came early this morning. A girl." + +"But--I thought it wasn't till next week!" + +"I know, but it's here. In that terrible storm, when we thought the +house was going to be washed away! Oh, my lady, it's the loveliest +baby!" + +I had presence of mind enough to try to hide my dismay. The +semi-darkness was a fortunate thing for me. "How is the mother?" I +asked. + +"Splendid. She's asleep now." + +"And the child?" + +"Oh! Such a dear you never saw!" + +"And it's all right?" + +"It's just the living image of its mother! You shall see!" + +We moved towards the house, slowly, while I got my thoughts together. +"Dr. Perrin is here?" I asked. + +"Yes. He's gone to his place to sleep." + +"And the nurse?" + +"She's with the child. Come this way." + +We went softly up the steps of the veranda. All the rooms opened upon +it, and we entered one of them, and by the dim-shaded light I saw a +white-clad woman bending over a crib. "Miss Lyman, this is Mrs. Abbott," +said the maid. + +The nurse straightened up. "Oh! so you got here! And just at the right +time!" + +"God grant it may be so!" I thought to myself. "So this is the child!" I +said, and bent over the crib. The nurse turned up the light for me. + +It is the form in which the miracle of life becomes most apparent to us, +and dull indeed must be he who can encounter it without being stirred +to the depths. To see, not merely new life come into the world, but life +which has been made by ourselves, or by those we love--life that is a +mirror and copy of something dear to us! To see this tiny mite of warm +and living flesh, and to see that it was Sylvia! To trace each beloved +lineament, so much alike, and yet so different--half a portrait and +half a caricature, half sublime and half ludicrous! The comical +little imitation of her nose, with each dear little curve, with even +a remainder of the tiny groove underneath the tip, and the tiny +corresponding dimple underneath the chin! The soft silken fuzz which +was some day to be Sylvia's golden glory! The delicate, sensitive lips, +which were some day to quiver with feeling! I gazed at them and saw them +moving, I saw the breast moving--and a wave of emotion swept over me, +and the tears half-blinded me as I knelt. + +But I could not forget the reason for my coming. It meant little that +the child was alive and seemingly well; I was not dealing with a disease +which, like syphilis, starves and deforms in the very womb. The little +one was asleep, but I moved the light so as to examine its eyelids. Then +I turned to the nurse and asked: "Miss Lyman, doesn't it seem to you the +eyelids are a trifle inflamed?" + +"Why, I hadn't noticed it," she answered. + +"Were the eyes washed?" I inquired. + +"I washed the baby, of course--" + +"I mean the eyes especially. The doctor didn't drop anything into them?" + +"I don't think he considered it necessary." + +"It's an important precaution," I replied; "there are always +possibilities of infection." + +"Possibly," said the other. "But you know, we did not expect this. Dr. +Overton was to be here in three or four days." + +"Dr. Perrin is asleep?" I asked. + +"Yes. He was up all last night." + +"I think I will have to ask you to waken him," I said. + +"Is it as serious as that?" she inquired, anxiously, having sensed some +of the emotion I was trying to conceal. + +"It might be very serious," I said. "I really ought to have a talk with +the doctor." + +13. The nurse went out, and I drew up a chair and sat by the crib, +watching the infant go back to sleep. I was glad to be alone, to have a +chance to get myself together. But suddenly I heard a rustle of skirts +in the doorway behind me, and turned and saw a white-clad figure; an +elderly gentlewoman, slender and fragile, grey-haired and rather pale, +wearing a soft dressing-gown. Aunt Varina! + +I rose. "This must be Mrs. Abbott," she said. Oh, these soft, caressing +Southern voices, that cling to each syllable as a lover to a hand at +parting. + +She was a very prim and stately little lady, and I think she did not +intend to shake hands; but I felt pretty certain that under her coating +of formality, she was eager for a chance to rhapsodize. "Oh, what a +lovely child!" I cried; and instantly she melted. + +"You have seen our babe!" she exclaimed; and I could not help smiling. A +few months ago, "the little stranger," and now "our babe"! + +She bent over the cradle, with her dear old sentimental, romantic soul +in her eyes. For a minute or two she quite forgot me; then, looking up, +she murmured, "It is as wonderful to me as if it were my own!" + +"All of us who love Sylvia feel that," I responded. + +She rose, and suddenly remembering hospitality, asked me as to my +present needs. Then she said, "I must go and see to sending some +telegrams." + +"Telegrams?" I inquired. + +"Yes. Think what this news will mean to dear Douglas! And to Major +Castleman!" + +"You haven't informed them?" + +"We couldn't send any smaller boat on account of the storm. We must +telegraph Dr. Overton also, you understand." + +"To tell him not to come?" I ventured. "But don't you think, Mrs. Tuis, +that he may wish to come anyhow?" + +"Why should he wish that?" + +"I'm not sure, but--I think he might." How I longed for a little of +Sylvia's skill in social lying! "Every newly-born infant ought to be +examined by a specialist, you know; there may be a particular _regime,_ +a diet for the mother--one cannot say." + +"Dr. Perrin didn't consider it necessary." + +"I am going to have a talk with Dr. Perrin at once," I said. + +I saw a troubled look in her eyes. "You don't mean you think there's +anything the matter?" + +"No--no," I lied. "But I'm sure you ought to wait before you have the +launch go. Please do." + +"If you insist," she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just +a touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and +one--well, possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the +ones that came were: "Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting." + +I was too polite to offer the suggestion that "dear Douglas" might be +finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching +on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor. + +14. "How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?" said Dr. Perrin. He was in his +dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, +but he replied, "It's pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two +new faces!" + +That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of +sleep. I tried to meet his mood. "Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells +me that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won't mind +regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I've had +to help bring others into the world." + +"All right," he smiled. "We'll consider you qualified. What is the +matter?" + +"I wanted to ask you about the child's eyes. It is a wise precaution +to drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible +infection." + +I waited for my answer. "There have been no signs of any sort of +infection in this case," he said, at last. + +"Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You +have not taken the precaution?" + +"No, madam." + +"You have some of the drug, of course?" + +Again there was a pause. "No, madam, I fear that I have not." + +I winced, involuntarily. I could not hide my distress. "Dr. Perrin," I +exclaimed, "you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to +provide something so essential!" + +There was nothing left of the little man's affability now. "In the first +place," he said, "I must remind you that I did not come to attend a +confinement case. I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver's condition up +_to_ the time of confinement." + +"But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!" + +"Yes, to be sure." + +"And you didn't have any nitrate of silver!" + +"Madam," he said, stiffly, "there is no use for this drug except in one +contingency." + +"I know," I cried, "but it is an important precaution. It is the +practice to use it in all maternity hospitals." + +"Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what +the practice is." + +So there we were, at a deadlock. There was silence for a space. + +"Would you mind sending for the drug?" I asked, at last. + +"I presume," he said, with _hauteur,_ "it will do no harm to have it on +hand." + +I was aware of an elderly lady watching us, with consternation written +upon every sentimental feature. "Dr. Perrin," I said, "if Mrs. Tuis will +pardon me, I think I ought to speak with you alone." The nurse hastily +withdrew; and I saw the elderly lady draw herself up with terrible +dignity--and then suddenly quail, and turn and follow the nurse. + +I told the little man what I knew. After he had had time to get over +his consternation, he said that fortunately there did not seem to be any +sign of trouble. + +"There does seem so to me," I replied. "It may be only my imagination, +but I think the eyelids are inflamed." + +I held the baby for him, while he made an examination. He admitted that +there seemed to be ground for uneasiness. His professional dignity was +now gone, and he was only too glad to be human. + +"Dr. Perrin," I said, "there is only one thing we can do--to get some +nitrate of silver at the earliest possible moment. Fortunately, the +launch is here." + +"I will have it start at once," he said. "It will have to go to Key +West." + +"And how long will that take?" + +"It depends upon the sea. In good weather it takes us eight hours to go +and return." I could not repress a shudder. The child might be blind in +eight hours! + +But there was no time to be wasted in foreboding. "About Dr. Overton," +I said. "Don't you think he had better come?" But I ventured to add the +hint that Mr. van Tuiver would hardly wish expense to be considered in +such an emergency; and in the end, I persuaded the doctor not merely +to telegraph for the great surgeon, but to ask a hospital in Atlanta to +send the nearest eye-specialist by the first train. + +We called back Mrs. Tuis, and I apologized abjectly for my presumption, +and Dr. Perrin announced that he thought he ought to see Dr. Overton, +and another doctor as well. I saw fear leap into Aunt Varina's eyes. +"Oh, what is it?" she cried. "What is the matter with our babe?" + +I helped the doctor to answer polite nothings to all her questions. "Oh, +the poor, dear lady!" I thought to myself. The poor, dear lady! What a +tearing away of veils and sentimental bandages was written in her book +of fate for that night! + +15. I find myself lingering over these preliminaries, dreading the +plunge into the rest of my story. We spent our time hovering over the +child's crib, and in two or three hours the little eyelids had become so +inflamed that there could no longer be any doubt what was happening. We +applied alternate hot and cold cloths; we washed the eyes in a solution +of boric acid, and later, in our desperation, with bluestone. But we +were dealing with the virulent gonococcus, and we neither expected nor +obtained much result from these measures. In a couple of hours more the +eyes were beginning to exude pus, and the poor infant was wailing in +torment. + +"Oh, what can it be? Tell me what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Tuis. She +sought to catch the child in her arms, and when I quickly prevented her, +she turned upon me in anger. "What do you mean?" + +"The child must be quiet," I said. + +"But I wish to comfort it!" And when I still insisted, she burst out +wildly: "What _right_ have you?" + +"Mrs. Tuis," I said, gently, "it is possible the infant may have a very +serious infection. If so, you would be apt to catch it." + +She answered with a hysterical cry: "My precious innocent! Do you think +that I would be afraid of anything it could have?" + +"You may not be afraid, but we are. We should have to take care of you, +and one case is more than enough." + +Suddenly she clutched me by the arm. "Tell me what this awful thing is! +I demand to know!" + +"Mrs. Tuis," said the doctor, interfering, "we are not yet sure what the +trouble is, we only wish to take precautions. It is really imperative +that you should not handle this child or even go near it. There is +nothing you can possibly do." + +She was willing to take orders from him; he spoke the same dialect +as herself, and with the same quaint stateliness. A charming little +Southern gentleman--I could realise how Douglas van Tuiver had "picked +him out for his social qualities." In the old-fashioned Southern medical +college where he had got his training, I suppose they had taught him the +old-fashioned idea of gonorrhea. Now he was acquiring our extravagant +modern notions in the grim school of experience! + +It was necessary to put the nurse on her guard as to the risks we were +running. We should have had concave glasses to protect our eyes, and we +spent part of our time washing our hands in bichloride solution. + +"Mrs. Abbott, what is it?" whispered the woman. + +"It has a long name," I replied--"_opthalmia neonatorum._" + +"And what has caused it?" + +"The original cause," I responded, "is a man." I was not sure if that +was according to the ethics of the situation, but the words came. + +Before long the infected eye-sockets were two red and yellow masses of +inflammation, and the infant was screaming like one of the damned. We +had to bind up its eyes; I was tempted to ask the doctor to give it an +opiate for fear lest it should scream itself into convulsions. Then +as poor Mrs. Tuis was pacing the floor, wringing her hands and sobbing +hysterically, Dr. Perrin took me to one side and said: "I think she will +have to be told." + +The poor, poor lady! + +"She might as well understand now as later," he continued. "She will +have to help keep the situation from the mother." + +"Yes," I said, faintly; and then, "Who shall tell her?" + +"I think," suggested the doctor, "she might prefer to be told by a +woman." + +So I shut my lips together and took the distracted lady gently by +the arm and led her to the door. We stole like two criminals down the +veranda, and along the path to the beach, and near the boathouse we +stopped, and I began. + +"Mrs. Tuis, you may remember a circumstance which your niece mentioned +to me--that just before her marriage she urged you to have certain +inquiries made as to Mr. van Tuiver's health, his fitness for marriage?" + +Never shall I forget her face at that moment. "Sylvia told you that!" + +"The inquiries were made," I went on, "but not carefully enough, it +seems. Now you behold the consequence of this negligence." + +I saw her blank stare. I added: "The one to pay for it is the child." + +"You--you mean--" she stammered, her voice hardly a whisper. "Oh--it is +impossible!" Then, with a flare of indignation: "Do you realise what you +are implying--that Mr. van Tuiver--" + +"There is no question of implying," I said, quietly. "It is the facts we +have to face now, and you will have to help us to face them." + +She cowered and swayed before me, hiding her face in her hands. I heard +her sobbing and murmuring incoherent cries to her god. I took the poor +lady's hand, and bore with her as long as I could, until, being at the +end of my patience with prudery and purity and chivalry, and all the +rest of the highfalutin romanticism of the South, I said: "Mrs Tuis, it +is necessary that you should get yourself together. You have a serious +duty before you--that you owe both to Sylvia and her child." + +"What is it?" she whispered. The word "duty" had motive power for her. + +"At all hazards, Sylvia must be kept in ignorance of the calamity for +the present. If she were to learn of it it would quite possibly throw +her into a fever, and cost her life or the child's. You must not make +any sound that she can hear, and you must not go near her until you have +completely mastered your emotions." + +"Very well," she murmured. She was really a brave little body, but I, +not knowing her, and thinking only of the peril, was cruel in hammering +things into her consciousness. Finally, I left her, seated upon the +steps of the deserted boat-house, rocking back and forth and sobbing +softly to herself--one of the most pitiful figures it has ever been my +fortune to encounter in my pilgrimage through a world of sentimentality +and incompetence. + +16. I went back to the house, and because we feared the sounds of the +infant's crying might carry, we hung blankets before the doors and +windows of the room, and sat in the hot enclosure, shuddering, silent, +grey with fear. After an hour or two, Mrs. Tuis rejoined us, stealing in +and seating herself at one side of the room, staring from one to another +of us with wide eyes of fright. + +By the time the first signs of dawn appeared, the infant had cried +itself into a state of exhaustion. The faint light that got into the +room revealed the three of us, listening to the pitiful whimpering. I +was faint with weakness, but I had to make an effort and face the worst +ordeal of all. There came a tapping at the door--the maid, to say that +Sylvia was awake and had heard of my arrival and wished to see me. I +might have put off our meeting for a while, on the plea of exhaustion, +but I preferred to have it over with, and braced myself and went slowly +to her room. + +In the doorway I paused for an instant to gaze at her. She was +exquisite, lying there with the flush of sleep still upon her, and the +ecstasy of her great achievement in her face. I fled to her, and we +caught each other in our arms. "Oh, Mary, Mary! I'm so glad you've +come!" And then: "Oh, Mary, isn't it the loveliest baby!" + +"Perfectly glorious!" I exclaimed. + +"Oh, I'm so happy--so happy as I never dreamed! I've no words to tell +you about it." + +"You don't need any words--I've been through it," I said. + +"Oh, but she's so _beautiful!_ Tell me, honestly, isn't that really so?" + +"My dear," I said, "she is like you." + +"Mary," she went on, half whispering, "I think it solves all my +problems--all that I wrote you about. I don't believe I shall ever +be unhappy again. I can't believe that such a thing has really +happened--that I've been given such a treasure. And she's my own! I can +watch her little body grow and help to make it strong and beautiful! I +can help mould her little mind--see it opening up, one chamber of wonder +after another! I can teach her all the things I have had to grope so to +get!" + +"Yes," I said, trying to speak with conviction. I added, hastily: "I'm +glad you don't find motherhood disappointing." + +"Oh, it's a miracle!" she exclaimed. "A woman who could be dissatisfied +with anything afterwards would be an ingrate!" She paused, then added: +"Mary, now she's here in flesh, I feel she'll be a bond between Douglas +and me. He must see her rights, her claim upon life, as he couldn't see +mine." + +I assented gravely. So that was the thing she was thinking most about--a +bond between her husband and herself! A moment later the nurse appeared +in the doorway, and Sylvia set up a cry: "My baby! Where's my baby? I +want to see my baby!" + +"Sylvia, dear," I said, "there's something about the baby that has to be +explained." + +Instantly she was alert. "What is the matter?" + +I laughed. "Nothing, dear, that amounts to anything. But the little +one's eyes are inflamed--that is to say, the lids. It's something that +happens to newly-born infants." + +"Well, then?" she said. + +"Nothing, only the doctor's had to put some salve on them, and they +don't look very pretty." + +"I don't mind that, if it's all right." + +"But we've had to put a bandage over them, and it looks forbidding. Also +the child is apt to cry." + +"I must see her at once!" she exclaimed. + +"Just now she's asleep, so don't make us disturb her." + +"But how long will this last?" + +"Not very long. Meantime you must be sensible and not mind. It's +something I made the doctor do, and you mustn't blame me, or I'll be +sorry I came to you." + +"You dear thing," she said, and put her hand in mine. And then, +suddenly: "Why did you take it into your head to come, all of a sudden?" + +"Don't ask me," I smiled. "I have no excuse. I just got homesick and had +to see you." + +"It's perfectly wonderful that you should be here now," she declared. +"But you look badly. Are you tired?" + +"Yes, dear," I said. (Such a difficult person to deceive!) "To tell the +truth, I'm pretty nearly done up. You see, I was caught in the storm, +and I was desperately sea-sick." + +"Why, you poor dear! Why didn't you go to sleep?" + +"I didn't want to sleep. I was too much excited by everything. I came to +see one Sylvia and I found two!" + +"Isn't it absurd," she cried, "how she looks like me? Oh, I want to see +her again. How long will it be before I can have her?" + +"My dear," I said, "you mustn't worry--" + +"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just playing. I'm so happy, I want to squeeze +her in my arms all the time. Just think, Mary, they won't let me nurse +her, yet--a whole day now! Can that be right?" + +"Nature will take care of that," I said. + +"Yes, but how can you be sure what Nature means? Maybe it's what the +child is crying about, and it's the crying that makes its eyes red." + +I felt a sudden spasm grip my heart. "No, dear, no," I said, hastily. +"You must let Dr. Perrin attend to these things, for I've just had +to interfere with his arrangements, and he'll be getting cross pretty +soon." + +"Oh," she cried with laughter in her eyes, "you've had a scene with him? +I knew you would! He's so quaint and old-fashioned!" + +"Yes," I said, "and he talks exactly like your aunt." + +"Oh! You've met her too! I'm missing all the fun!" + +I had a sudden inspiration--one that I was proud of. "My dear girl," I +said, "maybe _you_ call it fun!" And I looked really agitated. + +"Why, what's the matter?" she cried. + +"What could you expect?" I asked. "I fear, my dear Sylvia, I've shocked +your aunt beyond all hope." + +"What have you done?" + +"I've talked about things I'd no business to--I've bossed the learned +doctor--and I'm sure Aunt Varina has guessed I'm not a lady." + +"Oh, tell me about it!" cried Sylvia, full of delight. + +But I could not keep up the game any longer. "Not now, dear," I said. +"It's a long story, and I really am exhausted. I must go and get some +rest." + +I rose, and she caught my hand, whispering: "I shall be happy, Mary! I +shall be really happy now!" And then I turned and fled, and when I was +out of sight of the doorway, I literally ran. At the other end of the +veranda I sank down upon the steps, and wept softly to myself. + +17. The launch arrived, bringing the nitrate of silver. A solution was +dropped into the baby's eyes, and then we could do nothing but wait. I +might have lain down and really tried to rest; but the maid came again, +with the announcement that Sylvia was asking for her aunt. Excuses would +have tended to excite her suspicions; so poor Mrs. Tuis had to take her +turn at facing the ordeal, and I had to drill and coach her for it. +I had a vision of the poor lady going in to her niece, and suddenly +collapsing. Then there would begin a cross-examination, and Sylvia would +worm out the truth, and we might have a case of puerperal fever on our +hands. + +This I explained afresh to Mrs. Tuis, having taken her into her own room +and closed the door for that purpose. She clutched me with her shaking +hands and whispered, "Oh, Mrs. Abbott, you will _never_ let Sylvia find +out what caused this trouble?" + +I drew on my reserve supply of patience, and answered, "What I shall +let her find out in the end, I don't know. We shall be guided by +circumstances, and this is no time to discuss the matter. The point is +now to make sure that you can go in and stay with her, and not let her +get an idea there's anything wrong." + +"Oh, but you know how Sylvia reads people!" she cried, in sudden dismay. + +"I've fixed it for you," I said. "I've provided something you can be +agitated about." + +"What is that?" + +"It's _me._" Then, seeing her look of bewilderment, "You must tell +her that I've affronted you, Mrs. Tuis; I've outraged your sense of +propriety. You're indignant with me and you don't see how you can remain +in the house with me--" + +"Why, Mrs. Abbott!" she exclaimed, in horror. + +"You know it's truth to some extent," I said. + +The good lady drew herself up. "Mrs. Abbott, don't tell me that I have +been so rude--" + +"Dear Mrs. Tuis," I laughed, "don't stop to apologize just now. You have +not been lacking in courtesy, but I know how I must seem to you. I am +a Socialist. I have a raw, Western accent, and my hands are big--I've +lived on a farm all my life, and done my own work, and even plowed +sometimes. I have no idea of the charms and graces of life that are +everything to you. What is more than that, I am forward, and thrust my +opinions upon other people--" + +She simply could not hear me. She was a-tremble with a new excitement. +Worse even than _opthalmia neonatorum_ was plain speaking to a guest! +"Mrs. Abbott, you humiliate me!" + +Then I spoke harshly, seeing that I would actually have to shock her. +"I assure you, Mrs. Tuis, that if you don't feel that way about me, it's +simply because you don't know the truth. It is not possible that you +would consider me a proper person to visit Sylvia. I don't believe in +your religion; I don't believe in anything that you would call religion, +and I argue about it at the least provocation. I deliver violent +harangues on street-corners, and have been arrested during a strike. +I believe in woman's suffrage, I even argue in approval of +window-smashing. I believe that women ought to earn their own living, +and be independent and free from any man's control. I am a divorced +woman--I left my husband because I wasn't happy with him, what's more, +I believe that any woman has a right to do the same--I'm liable to teach +such ideas to Sylvia, and to urge her to follow them." + +The poor lady's eyes were wide and large. "So you see," I exclaimed, +"you really couldn't approve of me! Tell her all this; she knows it +already, but she will be horrified, because I have let you and the +doctor find it out!" + +Whereupon Mrs. Tuis started to ascend the pedestal of her dignity. "Mrs. +Abbott, this may be your idea of a jest----" + +"Now come," I cried, "let me help you fix your hair, and put on just a +wee bit of powder--not enough to be noticed, you understand----" + +I took her to the wash-stand, and poured out some cold water for her, +and saw her bathe her eyes and face, and dry them, and braid her thin +grey hair. While with a powder puff I was trying deftly to conceal the +ravages of the night's crying, the dear lady turned to me, and whispered +in a trembling voice, "Mrs. Abbott, you really don't mean that dreadful +thing you said just now?" + +"Which dreadful thing, Mrs. Tuis?" + +"That you would tell Sylvia it could possibly be right for her to leave +her husband?" + +18. In the course of the day we received word that Dr. Gibson, the +specialist for whom we had telegraphed, was on his way. The boat which +brought his message took back a letter from Dr. Perrin to Douglas van +Tuiver, acquainting him with the calamity which had befallen. We +had talked it over and agreed that there was nothing to be gained by +telegraphing the information. We did not wish any hint of the child's +illness to leak into the newspapers. + +I did not envy the great man the hour when he read that letter; although +I knew that the doctor had not failed to assure him that the victim of +his misdeeds should be kept in ignorance. Already the little man +had begun to drop hints to me on this subject. Unfortunate accidents +happened, which were not always to be blamed upon the husband, nor was +it a thing to contemplate lightly, the breaking up of a family. I gave +a non-committal answer, and changed the subject by asking the doctor +not to mention my presence in the household. If by any chance van Tuiver +were to carry his sorrows to Claire, I did not want my name brought up. + +We managed to prevent Sylvia's seeing the child that day and night, and +the next morning came the specialist. He held out no hope of saving any +remnant of the sight, but the child might be so fortunate as to escape +disfigurement--it did not appear that the eyeballs were destroyed, as +happens generally in these cases. This bit of consolation I still have: +that little Elaine, who sits by me as I write, has left in her pupils a +faint trace of the soft red-brown--just enough to remind us of what we +have lost, and keep fresh in our minds the memory of these sorrows. If +I wish to see what her eyes might have been, I look above my head to the +portrait of Sylvia's noble ancestress, a copy made by a "tramp artist" +in Castleman County, and left with me by Sylvia. + +There was the question of the care of the mother--the efforts to stay +the ravages of the germ in the tissues broken and weakened by the strain +of child-birth. We had to invent excuses for the presence of the new +doctor--and yet others for the presence of Dr. Overton, who came a day +later. And then the problem of the nourishing of the child. It would +be a calamity to have to put it upon the bottle, but on the other +hand, there were many precautions necessary to keep the infection from +spreading. + +I remember vividly the first time that the infant was fed: all of us +gathered round, with matter-of-course professional air, as if these +elaborate hygienic ceremonies were the universal custom when newly-born +infants first taste their mothers' milk. Standing in the background, I +saw Sylvia start with dismay, as she noted how pale and thin the poor +little one had become. It was hunger that caused the whimpering, so the +nurse declared, busying herself in the meantime to keep the tiny +hands from the mother's face. The latter sank back and closed her +eyes--nothing, it seemed, could prevail over the ecstasy of that first +marvellous sensation, but afterwards she asked that I might stay with +her, and as soon as the others were gone, she unmasked the batteries +of her suspicion upon me. "Mary! What in the world has happened to my +baby?" + +So began a new stage in the campaign of lying. "It's nothing, nothing. +Just some infection. It happens frequently." + +"But what is the cause of it?" + +"We can't tell. It may be a dozen things. There are so many possible +sources of infection about a birth. It's not a very sanitary thing, you +know." + +"Mary! Look me in the face!" + +"Yes, dear?" + +"You're not deceiving me?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"I mean--it's not really something serious? All these doctors--this +mystery--this vagueness!" + +"It was your husband, my dear Sylvia, who sent the doctors--it was +his stupid man's way of being attentive." (This at Aunt Varina's +suggestion--the very subtle lady!). + +"Mary, I'm worried. My baby looks so badly, and I feel something is +wrong." + +"My dear Sylvia," I chided, "if you worry about it you will simply be +harming the child. Your milk may go wrong." + +"Oh, that's just it! That's why you would not tell me the truth!" + +We persuade ourselves that there are certain circumstances under which +lying is necessary, but always when we come to the lies we find them +an insult to the soul. Each day I perceived that I was getting in +deeper--and each day I watched Aunt Varina and the doctor busied to push +me deeper yet. + +There had come a telegram from Douglas van Tuiver to Dr. Perrin, +revealing the matter which stood first in that gentleman's mind. +"I expect no failure in your supply of the necessary tact." By this +vagueness we perceived that he too was trusting no secrets to telegraph +operators. Yet for us it was explicit and illuminative. It recalled the +tone of quiet authority I had noted in his dealings with his chauffeur, +and it sent me off by myself for a while to shake my fist at all +husbands. + +19. Mrs. Tuis, of course, had no need of any warning from the head +of the house. The voice of her ancestors guided her in all such +emergencies. The dear lady had got to know me quite well, at the more or +less continuous dramatic rehearsals we conducted; and now and then her +trembling hands would seek to fasten me in the chains of decency. "Mrs. +Abbott, think what a scandal there would be if Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver +were to break with her husband!" + +"Yes, my dear Mrs. Tuis-but on the other hand, think what might happen +if she were kept in ignorance in this matter. She might bear another +child." + +I got a new realization of the chasms that lay between us. "Who are we," +she whispered, "to interfere in these sacred matters? It is of souls, +Mrs. Abbot, and not bodies, that the Kingdom of Heaven is made." + +I took a minute or so to get my breath, and then I said, "What generally +happens in these cases is that God afflicts the woman with permanent +barrenness." + +The old lady bowed her head, and I saw the tears falling into her lap. +"My poor Sylvia!" she moaned, only half aloud. + +There was a silence; I too almost wept. And finally, Aunt Varina +looked up at me, her faded eyes full of pleading. "It is hard for me to +understand such ideas as yours. You must tell me-can you really believe +that it would help Sylvia to know this-this dreadful secret?" + +"It would help her in many ways," I said. "She will be more careful of +her health-she will follow the doctor's orders---" + +How quickly came the reply! "I will stay with her, and see that she does +that! I will be with her day and night." + +"But are you going to keep the secret from those who attend her? Her +maid--the child's nurses--everyone who might by any chance use the same +towel, or a wash-basin, or a drinking-glass?" + +"Surely you exaggerate the danger! If that were true, more people would +meet with these accidents!" + +"The doctors," I said, "estimate that about ten per cent. of cases of +this disease are innocently acquired." + +"Oh, these modern doctors!" she cried. "I never heard of such ideas!" + +I could not help smiling. "My dear Mrs. Tuis, what do you imagine you +know about the prevalence of gonorrhea? Consider just one fact--that I +heard a college professor state publicly that in his opinion eighty-five +per cent. of the men students at his university were infected with some +venereal disease. And that is the pick of our young manhood--the sons of +our aristocracy!" + +"Oh, that can't be!" she exclaimed. "People would know of it! + +"Who are 'people'? The boys in your family know of it--if you could get +them to tell you. My two sons studied at a State university, and they +would bring me home what they heard--the gossip, the slang, the +horrible obscenity. Fourteen fellows in one dormitory using the same +bathroom--and on the wall you saw a row of fourteen syringes! And they +told that on themselves, it was the joke of the campus. They call the +disease a 'dose'; and a man's not supposed to be worthy the respect +of his fellows until he's had his 'dose'--the sensible thing is to get +several, till he can't get any more. They think it's 'no worse than a +bad cold'; that's the idea they get from the 'clap-doctors,' and the +women of the street who educate our sons in sex matters." + +"Oh, spare me, spare me!" cried Mrs. Tuis. "I beg you not to force these +horrible details upon me!" + +"That is what is going on among our boys," I said. "The Castleman boys, +the Chilton boys! It's going on in every fraternity house, every 'prep +school' dormitory in America. And the parents refuse to know, just as +you do!" + +"But what could I possibly do, Mrs. Abbott?" + +"I don't know, Mrs. Tuis. What _I_ am going to do is to teach the young +girls." + +She whispered, aghast, "You would rob the young girls of their +innocence. Why, with their souls full of these ideas their faces would +soon be as hard--oh, you horrify me!" + +"My daughter's face is not hard," I said. "And I taught her. Stop and +think, Mrs. Tuis--ten thousand blind children every year! A hundred +thousand women under the surgeon's knife! Millions of women going to +pieces with slowly creeping diseases of which they never hear the names! +I say, let us cry this from the housetops, until every woman knows--and +until every man knows that she knows, and that unless he can prove that +he is clean he will lose her! That is the remedy, Mrs. Tuis!" + +Poor dear lady! I got up and went away, leaving her there, with clenched +hands and trembling lips. I suppose I seemed to her like the mad women +who were just then rising up to horrify the respectability of England--a +phenomenon of Nature too portentous to be comprehended, or even to be +contemplated, by a gentlewoman of the South! + +20. There came in due course a couple of letters from Douglas van +Tuiver. The one to Aunt Varina, which was shown to me, was vague and +cautious--as if the writer were uncertain how much this worthy lady +knew. He merely mentioned that Sylvia was to be spared every particle +of "painful knowledge." He would wait in great anxiety, but he would not +come, because any change in his plans might set her to questioning. + +The letter to Dr. Perrin was not shown to me; but I judged that it must +have contained more strenuous injunctions. Or had Aunt Varina by any +chance got up the courage to warn the young doctor against me? His +hints, at any rate, became more pointed. He desired me to realize how +awkward it would be for him, if Sylvia were to learn the truth; it would +be impossible to convince Mr. van Tuiver that this knowledge had not +come from the physician in charge. + +"But, Dr. Perrin," I objected, "it was I who brought the information to +you! And Mr. van Tuiver knows that I am a radical woman; he would not +expect me to be ignorant of such matters." + +"Mrs. Abbott," was the response, "it is a grave matter to destroy the +possibility of happiness of a young married couple." + +However I might dispute his theories, in practice I was doing what he +asked. But each day I was finding the task more difficult; each day it +became more apparent that Sylvia was ceasing to believe me. I realized +at last, with a sickening kind of fright, that she knew I was hiding +something from her. Because she knew me, and knew that I would not do +such a thing lightly, she was terrified. She would lie there, gazing +at me, with a dumb fear in her eyes--and I would go on asseverating +blindly, like an unsuccessful actor before a jeering audience. + +A dozen times she made an effort to break through the barricade of +falsehood; and a dozen times I drove her back, all but crying to her, +"No, No! Don't ask me!" Until at last, late one night, she caught my +hand and clung to it in a grip I could not break. "Mary! Mary! You must +tell me the _truth!_" + +"Dear girl--" I began. + +"Listen!" she cried. "I know you are deceiving me! I know why--because +I'll make myself ill. But it won't do any longer; it's preying on me, +Mary--I've taken to imagining things. So you must tell me the truth!" + +I sat, avoiding her eyes, beaten; and in the pause I could feel her +hands shaking. "Mary, what is it? Is my baby going to die?" + +"No, dear, indeed no!" I cried. + +"Then what?" + +"Sylvia," I began, as quietly as I could, "the truth is not as bad as +you imagine--" + +"Tell me what it is!" + +"But it is bad, Sylvia. And you must be brave. You must be, for your +baby's sake." + +"Make haste!" she cried. + +"The baby," I said, "may be blind." + +"Blind!" There we sat, gazing into each other's eyes, like two statues +of women. But the grasp of her hand tightened, until even my big fist +was hurt. "Blind!" she whispered again. + +"Sylvia," I rushed on, "it isn't so bad as it might be! Think--if you +had lost her altogether!" + +"_Blind!_" + +"You will have her always; and you can do things for her--take care of +her. They do wonders for the blind nowadays--and you have the means; to +do everything. Really, you know, blind children are not unhappy--some of +them are happier than other children, I think. They haven't so much to +miss. Think--" + +"Wait, wait," she whispered; and again there was silence, and I clung to +her cold hands. + +"Sylvia," I said, at last, "you have a newly-born infant to nurse, and +its very life depends upon your health now. You cannot let yourself +grieve." + +"No," she responded. "No. But, Mary, what caused this?" + +So there was the end of my spell of truth-telling. "I don't know, dear. +Nobody knows. There might be a thousand things--" + +"Was it born blind?" + +"No." + +"Then was it the doctor's fault?" + +"No, it was nobody's fault. Think of the thousands and tens of thousands +of babies that become blind! It's a dreadful accident that happens." So +I went on--possessed with a dread that had been with me for days, that +had kept me awake for hours in the night: Had I, in any of my talks with +Sylvia about venereal disease, mentioned blindness in infants as one +of the consequences? I could not rememher; but now was the time I would +find out! + +She lay there, immovable, like a woman who had died in grief; until at +last I flung my arms about her and whispered, "Sylvia! Sylvia! Please +cry!" + +"I can't cry!" she whispered, and her voice sounded hard. + +So, after a space, I said, "Then, dear, I think I will have to make you +laugh." + +"Laugh, Mary?" + +"Yes-I will tell you about the quarrel between Aunt Varina and myself. +You know what times we've been having-how I shocked the poor lady?" + +She was looking at me, but her eyes were not seeing me. "Yes, Mary," she +said, in the same dead tone. + +"Well, that was a game we made for you. It was very funny!" + +"Funny?" + +"Yes! Because I really did shock her-though we started out just to give +you something else to think about!" + +And then suddenly I saw the healing tears begin to come. She could not +weep for her own grief-but she could weep because of what she knew we +two had had to suffer for her! + +21. I went out and told the others what I had done; and Mrs. Tuis +rushed in to her niece and they wept in each other's arms, and Mrs. Tuis +explained all the mysteries of life by her formula, "the will of the +Lord." + +Later on came Dr. Perrin, and it was touching to see how Sylvia treated +him. She had, it appeared, conceived the idea that the calamity must be +due to some blunder on his part, and then she had reflected that he was +young, and that chance had thrown upon him a responsibility for which he +had not bargained. He must be reproaching himself bitterly, so she had +to persuade him that it was really not so bad as we were making it-that +a blind child was a great joy to a mother's soul-in some ways even a +greater joy than a perfectly sound child, because it appealed so to +her protective instinct! I had called Sylvia a shameless payer of +compliments, and now I went away by myself and wept. + +Yet it was true in a way. When the infant was brought in to be nursed +again, how she clung to it, a very picture of the sheltering and +protecting instinct of motherhood! She knew the worst now--her mind was +free, and she could partake of what happiness was allowed her. The child +was hers to love and care for, and she would find ways to atone to it +for the harshness of fate. + +So little by little we got our existence upon a working basis. We lived +a peaceful, routine life, to the music of cocoanut-palms rustling in the +warm breezes which blew incessantly off the Mexican Gulf. Aunt Varina +had, for the time, her undisputed way with the family; her niece +reclined upon the veranda in true Southern lady fashion, and was read +aloud to from books of indisputable respectability. I remember Aunt +Varina selected the "Idylls of the King," and they two were in a mood +to shed tears over these solemn, sorrowful tales. So it came that the +little one got her name, after a pale and unhappy heroine. + +I remember the long discussions of this point, the family-lore which +Aunt Varina brought forth. It did not seem to her quite the thing to +call a blind child after a member of one's family. Something strange, +romantic, wistful--yes, Elaine was the name! Mrs. Tuis, it transpired, +had already baptised the infant, in the midst of the agonies and alarms +of its illness. She had called it "Sylvia," and now she was tremulously +uncertain whether this counted--whether perhaps the higher powers might +object to having to alter their records. But in the end a clergyman +came out from Key West and heard Aunt Varina's confession, and gravely +concluded that the error might be corrected by a formal ceremony. How +strange it all seemed to me--being carried back two or three hundred +years in the world's history! But I gave no sign of what was going on in +my rebellious mind. + +22. Dr. Overton on his return to New York, sent a special nurse to take +charge of Sylvia's case. There was also an infant's nurse, and both had +been taken into the doctor's confidence. So now there was an elaborate +conspiracy--no less than five women and two men, all occupied in keeping +a secret from Sylvia. It was a thing so contrary to my convictions that +I was never free from the burden of it for a moment. Was it my duty to +tell her? + +Dr. Perrin no longer referred to the matter--I realised that both he and +Dr. Gibson considered the matter settled. Was it conceivable that anyone +of sound mind could set out, deliberately and in cold blood, to betray +such a secret? But I had maintained all my life the right of woman to +know the truth, and was I to back down now, at the first test of my +convictions? + +When the news reached Douglas van Tuiver that his wife had been informed +of the infant's blindness, there came a telegram saying that he was +coming. There was much excitement, of course, and Aunt Varina came to +me, in an attempt to secure a definite pledge of silence. When I refused +it, Dr. Perrin came again, and we fought the matter over for the better +part of a day and night. + +He was a polite little gentleman, and he did not tell me that my views +were those of a fanatic, but he said that no woman could see things in +their true proportion, because of her necessary ignorance concerning the +nature of men, and the temptations to which they were exposed. I replied +that I believed I understood these matters thoroughly, and I went on, +quite simply and honestly, to make clear to him that this was so. In +the end my pathetically chivalrous little Southern gentleman admitted +everything I asked. Yes, it was true that these evils were ghastly, and +that they were increasing, and that women were the worst sufferers from +men. There might even be something in my idea that the older women +of the community should devote themselves to this service, making +themselves race-mothers, and helping, not merely in their homes, but in +the schools and churches, to protect and save the future generations. +But all that was in the future, he argued, while here was a case which +had gone so far that "letting in the light" could only blast the life +of two people, making it impossible for a young mother ever again to +tolerate the father of her child. I argued that Sylvia was not of the +hysterical type, but I could not make him agree that it was possible to +predict what the attitude of any woman would be. His ideas were based on +one peculiar experience he had had--a woman patient who had said to him: +"Doctor, I know what is the matter with me, but for God's sake don't +let my husband find out that I know, because then I should feel that my +self-respect required me to leave him!" + +23. The Master-of-the-House was coming! You could feel the quiver of +excitement in the air of the place. The boatmen were polishing the +brasses of the launch; the yard-man was raking up the dry strips of palm +from beneath the cocoanut trees; Aunt Varina was ordering new supplies, +and entering into conspiracies with the cook. The nurses asked me +timidly, what was He like, and even Dr. Gibson, a testy old gentleman +who had clashed violently with me on the subject of woman's suffrage, +and had avoided me ever since as a suspicious character, now came and +confided his troubles. He had sent home for a trunk, and the graceless +express companies had sent it astray. Now he was wondering if it was +necessary for him to journey to Key West and have a suit of dinner +clothes made over night. I told him that I had not sent for any +party-dresses, and that I expected to meet Mr. Douglas van Tuiver at +his dinner-table in plain white linen. His surprise was so great that I +suspected the old gentleman of having wondered whether I meant to retire +to a "second-table" when the Master-of-the-House arrived. + +I went away by myself, seething with wrath. Who was this great one whom +we honoured? Was he an inspired poet, a maker of laws, a discoverer +of truth? He was the owner of an indefinite number of millions of +dollars--that was all, and yet I was expected, because of my awe of him, +to abandon the cherished convictions of my lifetime. The situation +was one that challenged my fighting blood. This was the hour to prove +whether I really meant the things I talked. + +On the morning of the day that van Tuiver was expected, I went early to +Aunt Varina's room. She was going in the launch, and was in a state of +flustration, occupied in putting on her best false hair. "Mrs. Tuis," I +said, "I want you to let me go to meet Mr. van Tuiver instead of you." + +I will not stop to report the good lady's outcries. I did not care, +I said, whether it was proper, nor did I care whether, as she finally +hinted, it might not be agreeable to Mr. van Tuiver. I was sorry to have +to thrust myself upon him, but I was determined to go, and would let +nothing prevent me. And all at once she yielded, rather surprising me +by the suddenness of it. I suppose she concluded that van Tuiver was the +man to handle me, and the quicker he got at it the better. + +It is a trying thing to deal with the rich and great. If you treat them +as the rest of the world does, you are a tuft-hunter; if you treat them +as the rest of the world pretends to, you are a hypocrite; whereas, if +you deal with them truly, it is hard not to seem, even to yourself, a +bumptious person. I remember trying to tell myself on the launch-trip +that I was not in the least excited; and then, standing on the platform +of the railroad station, saying: "How can you expect not to be excited, +when even the railroad is excited?" + +"Will Mr. van Tuiver's train be on time?" I asked, of the agent. + +"'Specials' are not often delayed," he replied, "at least, not Mr. van +Tuiver's." + +The engine and its two cars drew up, and the traveller stepped out upon +the platform, followed by his secretary and his valet. I went forward to +meet him. "Good morning, Mr. van Tuiver." + +I saw at once that he did not remember me. "Mrs. Abbott," I prompted. "I +came to meet you." + +"Ah," he said. He had never got clear whether I was a sewing-woman, or +a tutor, or what, and whenever he erred in such matters, it was on the +side of caution. + +"Your wife is doing well," I said, "and the child as well as could be +expected." + +"Thank you," he said. "Did no one else come?" + +"Mrs. Tuis was not able," I said, diplomatically, and we moved towards +the launch. + +24. He did not offer to help me into the vessel, but I, crude +Western woman, did not miss the attention. We seated ourselves in the +upholstered leather seats in the stern, and when the "luggage" had been +stowed aboard, the little vessel swung away from the pier. Then I said: +"If you will pardon me, Mr. van Tuiver, I should like to talk with you +privately." + +He looked at me for a moment, and then answered, abruptly: "Yes, madam." +The secretary rose and went forward. + +The whirr of the machinery and the strong breeze made by the boat's +motion, made it certain that no one could hear us, and so I began my +attack: "Mr. van Tuiver, I am a friend of your wife's. I came here to +help her in this crisis, and I came to-day to meet you because it was +necessary for someone to talk to you frankly about the situation. +You will understand, I presume, that Mrs. Tuis is not--not very well +informed about the matters in question." + +His gaze was fixed intently upon me, but he said not a word. After +waiting, I continued: "Perhaps you will wonder why your wife's +physicians could not have handled the matter. The reason is, there is +a woman's side to such questions and often it is difficult for men to +understand it. If Sylvia knew the truth, she could speak for herself; +so long as she does not know it, I shall have to take the liberty of +speaking for her." + +Again there was a pause. He did nothing more than watch me, yet I could +feel his affronted maleness rising up for battle. I waited on purpose to +compel him to speak. + +"May I ask," he inquired, at last, "what you mean by the 'truth' that +you refer to?" + +"I mean," I said, "the cause of the infant's affliction." + +His composure was a thing to wonder at. He did not show by the flicker +of an eyelash any sign of uneasiness. + +"Let me explain one thing," I continued. "I owe it to Dr. Perrin to make +clear that he had nothing whatever to do with my coming into possession +of the secret. In fact, as he will no doubt tell you, I knew it before +he did; it is possible that you owe it to me that the infant is not +disfigured as well as blind." + +I paused again. "If that be true," he said, with unshaken formality, "I +am obliged to you." What a man! + +I continued: "My one desire and purpose is to protect my friend. So far, +the secret has been kept from her. I consented to this, because her very +life was at stake, it seemed to us all. But now she is well enough to +know, and the question is SHALL she know. I need hardly tell you +that Dr. Perrin thinks she should not, and that he has been using his +influence to persuade me to agree with him; so also has Mrs. Tuis----" + +Then I saw the first trace of uncertainty in his eyes. "There was a +critical time," I explained, "when Mrs. Tuis had to be told. You may be +sure, however, that no hint of the truth will be given by her. I am the +only person who is troubled with the problem of Sylvia's rights." + +I waited. "May I suggest, Mrs.--Mrs. Abbott--that the protection of +Mrs. van Tuiver's rights can be safely left to her physicians and her +husband?" + +"One would wish so, Mr. van Tuiver, but the medical books are full of +evidence that women's rights frequently need other protection." + +I perceived that he was nearing the end of his patience now. "You make +it difficult for me to talk to you," he said. "I am not accustomed to +having my affairs taken out of my hands by strangers." + +"Mr. van Tuiver," I replied, "in this most critical matter it is +necessary to speak without evasion. Before her marriage Sylvia made an +attempt to safeguard herself in this very matter, and she was not dealt +with fairly." + +At last I had made a hole in the mask! His face was crimson as +he replied: "Madam, your knowledge of my private affairs is most +astonishing. May I inquire how you learned these things?" + +I did not reply at once, and he repeated the question. I perceived that +this was to him the most important matter--his wife's lack of reserve! + +"The problem that concerns us here," I said, "is whether you are willing +to repair the error you made. Will you go frankly to your wife and admit +your responsibility----" + +He broke in, angrily: "Madam, the assumption you are making is one I see +no reason for permitting." + +"Mr. van Tuiver," said I, "I hoped that you would not take that line of +argument. I perceive that I have been _naive._" + +"Really, madam!" he replied, with cruel intent, "you have not impressed +me so!" + +I continued unshaken: "In this conversation it will be necessary to +assume that you are responsible for the presence of the disease." + +"In that case," he replied, haughtily, "I can have no further part in +the conversation, and I will ask you to drop it at once." + +I might have taken him at his word and waited, confident that in the +end he would have to come and ask for terms. But that would have seemed +childish to me, with the grave matters we had to settle. After a minute +or two, I said, quietly: "Mr. van Tuiver, you wish me to believe that +previous to your marriage you had always lived a chaste life?" + +He was equal to the effort it cost to control himself. He sat examining +me with his cold grey eyes. I suppose I must have been as new and +monstrous a phenomenon to him as he was to me. + +At last, seeing that he would not reply, I said, coldly: "It will help +us to get forward if you will give up the idea that it is possible for +you to put me off, or to escape this situation." + +"Madam," he cried, suddenly, "come to the point! What is it that you +want? Money?" + +I had thought I was prepared for everything; but this was an aspect of +his world which I could hardly have been expected to allow for. I stared +at him and then turned from the sight of him. "And to think that Sylvia +is married to such a man!" I whispered, half to myself. + +"Mrs. Abbott," he exclaimed, "how can anyone understand what you are +driving at?" + +But I turned away without answering, and for a long time sat gazing over +the water. What was the use of pleading with such a man? What was the +use of pouring out one's soul to him? I would tell Sylvia the truth at +once, and leave him to her! + +25. I heard him again, at last; he was talking to my back, his tone +a trifle less aloof. "Mrs. Abbott, do you realize that I know nothing +whatever about you--your character, your purpose, the nature of your +hold upon my wife? So what means have I of judging? You threaten me with +something that seems to me entirely insane--and what can I make of it? +If you wish me to understand you, tell me in plain words what you want." + +I reflected that I was in the world, and must take it as I found it. "I +have told you what I want," I said; "but I will tell you again, if it is +necessary. I hoped to persuade you that it was your duty to go to your +wife and tell her the truth." + +He took a few moments to make sure of his self-possession. "And would +you explain what good you imagine that could do?" + +"Your wife," I said, "must be put in position to protect herself in +future. There is no means of making sure in such a matter, except to +tell her the truth. You love her--and you are a man who has never been +accustomed to do without what he wants." + +"Great God, woman!" he cried. "Don't you suppose one blind child is +enough?" + +It was the first human word that he had spoken, and I was grateful for +it. "I have already covered that point," I said, in a low voice. "The +medical books are full of painful evidence that several blind children +are often not enough. There can be no escaping the necessity--Sylvia +must _know._ The only question is, who shall tell her? You must realize +that in urging you to be the person, I am thinking of your good as well +as hers. I will, of course, not mention that I have had anything to +do with persuading you, and so it will seem to her that you have some +realization of the wrong you have done her, some desire to atone for it, +and to be honourable and fair in your future dealings with her. When she +has once been made to realize that you are no more guilty than other men +of your class--hat you have done no worse than all of them---- + +"You imagine she could be made to believe that?" he broke in, +impatiently. + +"I will undertake to see that she believes it," I replied. + +"You seem to have great confidence in your ability to manage my wife!" + +"If you continue to resent my existence," I answered, gravely, "you will +make it impossible for me to help you." + +"Pardon me," he said--but he did not say it cordially. + +I went on: "There is much that can be said in your behalf. I realize it +is quite possible that you were not wholly to blame when you wrote to +Bishop Chilton that you were fit to marry; I know that you may have +believed it--that you might even have found physicians to tell you so. +There is wide-spread ignorance on the subject of this disease. Men have +the idea that the chronic forms of it cannot be communicated to women, +and it is difficult to make them realize what modern investigations have +proven. You can explain that to Sylvia, and I will back you up in it. +You were in love with her, you wanted her. Go to her now, and admit to +her honestly that you have wronged her. Beg her to forgive you, and to +let you help make the best of the cruel situation that has arisen." + +So I went on, pouring out my soul. And when I had finished, he said, +"Mrs. Abbott, I have listened patiently to your most remarkable +proposition. My answer is that I must ask you to withdraw from this +intimate matter, which concerns only my wife and myself." + +He was back where we started! Trying to sweep aside these grim and +terrible realities with the wave of a conventional hand! Was this the +way he met Sylvia's arguments? I felt moved to tell him what I thought +of him. + +"You are a proud man, Mr. van Tuiver--an obstinate man, I fear. It is +hard for you to humble yourself to your wife--to admit a crime and beg +forgiveness. Tell me--is that why you hesitate? Is it because you fear +you will have to take second place in your family from now on--that you +will no longer be able to dominate Sylvia? Are you afraid of putting +into her hands a weapon of self-defence?" + +He made no response. + +"Very well," I said, at last. "Let me tell you, then--I will not help +any man to hold such a position in a woman's life. Women have to bear +half the burdens of marriage, they pay half, or more than half, the +penalties; and so it is necessary that they have a voice in its affairs. +Until they know the truth, they can never have a voice." + +Of course my little lecture on Feminism might as well have been +delivered to a sphinx. "How stupid you are!" I cried. "Don't you know +that some day Sylvia must find out the truth for herself?" + +This was before the days when newspapers and magazines began to discuss +such matters frankly; but still there were hints to be picked up. I had +a newspaper-item in my bag--the board of health in a certain city had +issued a circular giving instructions for the prevention of blindness +in newly-born infants, and discussing the causes thereof; and the United +States post office authorities had barred the circular from the mails. I +said, "Suppose that item had come under Sylvia's eyes; might it not have +put her on the track. It was in her newspaper the day before yesterday; +and it was only by accident that I got hold of it first. Do you suppose +that can go on forever?" + +"Now that I am here," he replied, "I will be glad to relieve you of such +responsibilities." + +Which naturally made me cross. I drew from my quiver an arrow that I +thought would penetrate his skin. "Mr. van Tuiver," I said, "a man in +your position must always be an object of gossip and scandal. Suppose +some enemy were to send your wife an anonymous letter? Or suppose there +were some woman who thought that you had wronged her?" + +I stopped. He gave me one keen look--and then again the impenetrable +mask! "My wife will have to do as other women in her position do--pay no +attention to scandal-mongers of any sort." + +I paused, and then went on: "I believe in marriage. I consider it a +sacred thing; I would do anything in my power to protect and preserve a +marriage. But I hold that it must be an equal partnership. I would fight +to make it that; and wherever I found that it could not be that, I would +say it was not marriage, but slavery, and I would fight just as hard to +break it. Can you not understand that attitude upon a woman's part?" + +He gave no sign that he could understand. But still I would not give up +my battle. "Mr. van Tuiver," I pleaded, "I am a much older person than +you. I have seen a great deal of life--I have seen suffering even worse +than yours. And I am trying most earnestly to help you. Can you not +bring yourself to talk to me frankly? Perhaps you have never talked with +a woman about such matters--I mean, with a good woman. But I assure +you that other men have found it possible, and never regretted the +confidence they placed in me." + +I went on to tell him about my own sons, and what I had done for them; +I told him of a score of other boys in their class who had come to me, +making me a sort of mother-confessor. I do not think that I was entirely +deceived by my own eloquence--there was, I am sure, a minute or two +when he actually wavered. But then the habits of a precocious life-time +reasserted themselves, and he set his lips and told himself that he was +Douglas van Tuiver. Such things might happen in raw Western colleges, +but they were not according to the Harvard manner, nor the tradition of +life in Fifth Avenue clubs. + +He could not be a boy! He had never had any boyhood, any childhood--he +had been a state personage ever since he had known that he was anything. +I found myself thinking suddenly of the thin-lipped old family lawyer, +who had had much to do with shaping his character, and whom Sylvia +described to me, sitting at her dinner-table and bewailing the folly +of people who "admitted things." That was what made trouble for family +lawyers--not what people did, but what they admitted. How easy it was +to ignore impertinent questions! And how few people had the wit to do +it!-it seemed as if the shade of the thin-lipped old family lawyer were +standing by Douglas van Tuiver's side. + +In a last desperate effort, I cried, "Even suppose that I grant your +request, even suppose I agree not to tell Sylvia the truth--still the +day will come when you will hear from her the point-blank question: 'Is +my child blind because of this disease?' And what will you answer?" + +He said, in his cold, measured tones, "I will answer that there are a +thousand ways in which the disease can be innocently acquired." + +For a long time there was silence between us. At last he spoke again, +and his voice was as emotionless as if we had just met: "Do I understand +you, madam, that if I reject your advice and refuse to tell my wife what +you call the truth, it is your intention to tell her yourself?" + +"You understand me correctly," I replied. + +"And may I ask when you intend to carry out this threat?" + +"I will wait," I said, "I will give you every chance to think it +over--to consult with the doctors, in case you wish to. I will not take +the step without giving you fair notice." + +"For that I am obliged to you," he said, with a touch of irony; and that +was our last word. + +26. Our island was visible in the distance and I was impatient for the +time when I should be free from this man's presence. But as we drew +nearer, I noticed a boat coming out; it proved to be one of the smaller +launches heading directly for us. Neither van Tuiver nor I spoke, but +both of us watched it, and he must have been wondering, as I was, what +its purpose could be. When it was near enough, I made out that its +passengers were Dr. Perrin and Dr. Gibson. + +We slowed up, and the other boat did the same, and they lay within a few +feet of each other. Dr. Perrin greeted van Tuiver, and after introducing +the other man, he said: "We came out to have a talk with you. Would you +be so good as to step into this boat?" + +"Certainly," was the reply. The two launches were drawn side by side, +and the transfer made; the man who was running the smaller launch +stepped into ours--evidently having been instructed in advance. + +"You will excuse us please?" said the little doctor to me. The man who +had stepped into our launch spoke to the captain of it, and the power +was then put on, and we moved away a sufficient distance to be out of +hearing. I thought this a strange procedure, but I conjectured that the +doctors had become nervous as to what I might have told van Tuiver. So +I dismissed the matter from my mind, and spent my time reviewing the +exciting adventure I had just passed through. + +How much impression had I made? It was hard for me to judge such a man. +He would pretend to be less concerned than he actually was. But surely +he must see that he was in my power, and would have to give way in the +end! + +There came a hail from the little vessel, and we moved alongside again. +"Would you kindly step in here with us, Mrs. Abbott?" said Dr. Perrin, +and when I had done so, he ordered the boatman to move away once more. +Van Tuiver said not a word, but I noted a strained look upon his face, +and I thought the others seemed agitated also. + +As soon as the other vessel was out of hearing, Dr. Perrin turned to me +and said: "Mrs. Abbott, we came out to see Mr. van Tuiver, to warn him +of a distressing accident which has just happened. Mrs. van Tuiver was +asleep in her room, and Miss Lyman and another of the nurses were in the +next room. They indiscreetly made some remarks on the subject which we +have all been discussing--how much a wife should be told about these +matters, and suddenly they discovered Mrs. van Tuiver standing in the +doorway of the room." + +My gaze had turned to Douglas van Tuiver. "So she _knows!_" I cried. + +"We don't think that she knows, but she has a suspicion and is trying to +find out. She asked to see you." + +"Ah, yes!" I said. + +"She declared that she wished to see you as soon as you returned--that +she would not see anyone else, not even Mr. van Tuiver. You will +understand that this portends trouble for all of us. We judged it +necessary to have a consultation about the matter." + +I bowed in assent. + +"Now, Mrs. Abbot," began the little doctor, solemnly, "there is no +longer a question of abstract ideas, but of an immediate emergency. We +feel that we, as the physicians in charge of the case, have the right to +take control of the matter. We do not see----" + +"Dr. Perrin," I said, "let us come to the point. You want me to spin a +new web of deception?" + +"We are of the opinion, Mrs. Abbott, that in such matters the physicians +in charge----" + +"Excuse me," I said, quickly, "we have been over all this before, and we +know that we disagree. Has Mr. van Tuiver told you of the proposition I +have just made?" + +"You mean for him to go to his wife----" + +"Yes." + +"He has told us of this, and has offered to do it. We are of the opinion +that it would be a grave mistake." + +"It has been three weeks since the birth of the baby," I said. "Surely +all danger of fever is past. I will grant you that if it were a question +of telling her deliberately, it might be better to put it off for a +while. I would have been willing to wait for months, but for the fact +that I dreaded something like the present situation. Now that it has +happened, surely it is best to use our opportunity while all of us +are here and can persuade her to take the kindest attitude towards her +husband." + +"Madam!" broke in Dr. Gibson. (He was having difficulty in controlling +his excitement.) "You are asking us to overstep the bounds of our +professional duty. It is not for the physician to decide upon the +attitude a wife should take toward her husband." + +"Dr. Gibson," I replied, "that is what you propose to do, only you wish +to conceal the fact. You would force Mrs. van Tuiver to accept your +opinion of what a wife's duty is." + +Dr. Perrin took command once more. "Our patient has asked for you, and +she looks to you for guidance. You must put aside your own convictions +and think of her health. You are the only person who can calm her, and +surely it is your duty to do so!" + +"I know that I might go in and lie again to my friend, but she knows +too much to be deceived for very long. You know what a mind she has--a +lawyer's mind! How can I persuade her that the nurses--why, I do not +even know what she heard the nurses say!" + +"We have that all written down for you," put in Dr. Perrin, quickly. + +"You have their recollection of it, no doubt--but suppose they have +forgotten some of it? Sylvia has not forgotten, you may be sure--every +word is burned with fire into her brain. She has put with this +everything she ever heard on the subject--the experience of her +friend, Harriet Atkinson-all that I've told her in the past about such +things----" + +"Ah!" growled Dr. Gibson. "That's it! If you had not meddled in the +beginning----" + +"Now, now!" said the other, soothingly. "You ask me to relieve you of +the embarrassment of this matter. I quite agree with Mrs. Abbott that +there is too much ignorance about these things, but she must recognise, +I am sure, that this is not the proper moment for enlightening Mrs. van +Tuiver." + +"I do not recognise it at all," I said. "If her husband will go to her +and tell her humbly and truthfully----" + +"You are talking madness!" cried the old man, breaking loose again. "She +would be hysterical--she would regard him as something loathsome--some +kind of criminal----" + +"Of course she would be shocked," I said, "but she has the coolest head +of anyone I know--I do not think of any man I would trust so fully +to take a rational attitude in the end. We can explain to her what +extenuating circumstances there are, and she will have to recognise +them. She will see that we are considering her rights----" + +"Her _rights!_" The old man fairly snorted the words. + +"Now, now, Dr. Gibson!" interposed the other. "You asked me----" + +"I know! I know! But as the older of the physicians in charge of this +case----" + +Dr. Perrin managed to frown him down, and went on trying to placate +me. But through the argument I could hear the old man muttering in +his collar a kind of double bass _pizzicato_: "Suffragettes! Fanatics! +Hysteria! Woman's Rights!" + +27. The breeze was feeble, and the sun was blazing hot, but nevertheless +I made myself listen patiently for a while. They had said it all to +me, over and over again; but it seemed that Dr. Perrin could not be +satisfied until it had been said in Douglas van Tuiver's presence. + +"Dr. Perrin," I exclaimed, "even supposing we make the attempt to +deceive her, we have not one plausible statement to make----" + +"You are mistaken, Mrs. Abbott," said he. "We have the perfectly +well-known fact that this disease is often contracted in ways which +involve no moral blame. And in this case I believe I am in position to +state how the accident happened." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I don't know whether you heard that just before Mrs. van Tuiver's +confinement, I was called away to one of the other keys to attend a +negro-woman. And since this calamity has befallen us, I have realized +that I was possibly not as careful in sterilizing my instruments as I +might have been. It is of course a dreadful thing for any physician to +have to believe----" + +He stopped, and there was a long silence. I gazed from one to another of +the men. Two of them met my gaze; one did not. "He is going to let you +say that?" I whispered, at last. + +"Honour and fairness compel me to say it, Mrs. Abbott. I believe----" + +But I interrupted him. "Listen to me, Dr. Perrin. You are a chivalrous +gentleman, and you think you are helping a man in desperate need. But +I say that anyone who would permit you to tell such a tale is a +contemptible coward!" + +"Madam," cried Dr. Gibson, furiously, "there is a limit even to a +woman's rights!" + +A silence followed. At last I resumed, in a low voice, "You gentlemen +have your code: you protect the husband--you protect him at all hazards. +I could understand this, if he were innocent of the offence in question; +I could understand it if there were any possibility of his being +innocent. But how can you protect him, when you know that he is guilty?" + +"There can be no question of such knowledge!" cried the old doctor. + +"I have no idea," I said, "how much he has admitted to you; but let me +remind you of one circumstance, which is known to Dr. Perrin--that I +came to this place with the definite information that symptoms of the +disease were to be anticipated. Dr. Perrin knows that I told that to Dr. +Overton in New York. Has he informed you of it?" + +There was an awkward interval. I glanced at van Tuiver, and I saw that +he was leaning forward, staring at me. I thought he was about to speak, +when Dr. Gibson broke in, excitedly, "All this is beside the mark! We +have a serious emergency to face, and we are not getting anywhere. As +the older of the physicians in charge of this case----" + +And he went on to give me a lecture on the subject of authority. He +talked for five minutes, ten minutes--I lost all track of the time. I +had suddenly begun to picture how I would act and what I would say when +I went into Sylvia's room. What a state must Sylvia be in, while we sat +out here in the blazing mid-day sun, discussing her right to freedom and +knowledge! + +28. "I have always been positive," Dr. Gibson was saying, "but the +present discussion has made me more positive than ever. As the older of +the physicians in charge of this case, I say most emphatically that the +patient shall not be told!" + +I could not stand him any longer. "I am going to tell the patient," I +said. + +"You shall _not_ tell her!" + +"But how will you prevent me?" + +"You shall not _see_ her!" + +"But she is determined to see _me!_" + +"She will be told that you are not there." + +"And how long do you imagine that that will satisfy her?" + +There was a pause. They looked at van Tuiver, expecting him to speak. +And so I heard once more his cold, deliberate voice. "We have done +all we can. There can no longer be any question as to the course to be +taken. Mrs. Abbott will not return to my home." + +"What?" I cried. I stared at him, aghast. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean what I say--that you will not be taken back to the island." + +"But where will I be taken?" + +"You will be taken to the mainland." + +I stared at the others. No one gave a sign. At last I whispered, "You +would _dare?_" + +"You leave us no other alternative," replied the master. + +"You--you will practically kidnap me!" My voice must have been rather +wild at that moment. + +"You left my home of your own free will. I think I need hardly point out +to you that I am not compelled to invite you back to it." + +"And what will Sylvia----" I stopped; appalled at the vista the words +opened up. + +"My wife," said van Tuiver, "will ultimately choose between her husband +and her most remarkable acquaintance." + +"And you gentlemen?" I turned to the others. "You would give your +sanction to this outrageous action?" + +"As the older of the physicians in charge of this case----" began Dr. +Gibson. + +I turned to van Tuiver again. "When your wife finds out what you have +done to me--what will you answer?" + +"We will deal with that situation when we come to it." + +"Of course," I said, "you understand that sooner or later I shall get +word to her!" + +He answered, "We shall assume from now on that you are a mad woman, and +shall take our precautions accordingly." + +Again there was a silence. + +"The launch will return to the mainland," said van Tuiver at last. "It +will remain there until Mrs. Abbott sees fit to go ashore. May I ask if +she has sufficient money in her purse to take her to New York?" + +I could not help laughing. The thing was so wild--and yet I could see +that from their point of view it was the only thing to do. "Mrs. Abbott +is not certain that she is going back to New York," I replied. "If she +does go, it will not be with Mr. van Tuiver's money." + +"One thing more," said Dr. Perrin. It was the first time he had spoken +since van Tuiver's incredible announcement. "I trust, Mrs. Abbott, that +this unfortunate situation may at all costs be concealed from servants, +and from the world in general." + +From which I realized how badly I had them frightened. They actually saw +me making physical resistance! + +"Dr. Perrin," I replied, "I am acting in this matter for my friend. +I will add this: that I believe that you are letting yourself be +overborne, and that you will regret it some day." + +He made no answer. Douglas van Tuiver put an end to the discussion by +rising and signalling the other launch. When it had come alongside, he +said to the captain, "Mrs. Abbott is going back to the railroad. You +will take her at once." + +Then he waited; I was malicious enough to give him an anxious moment +before I rose. Dr. Perrin offered me his hand; and Dr. Gibson said, with +a smile, "Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott. I'm sorry you can't stay with us any +longer." + +I think it was something to my credit that I was able to play out the +game before the boatmen. "I am sorry, too," I countered. "I am hoping I +shall be able to return." + +And then came the real ordeal. "Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott," said Douglas van +Tuiver, with his stateliest bow; and I managed to answer him! + +As I took my seat, he beckoned his secretary. There was a whispered +consultation for a minute or two, and then the master returned to the +smaller launch with the doctors. He gave the word, and the two vessels +set out--one to the key, and the other to the railroad. The secretary +went in the one with me! + +29. And here ends a certain stage of my story. I have described Sylvia +as I met her and judged her; and if there be any reader who has been +irked by this method, who thinks of me as a crude and pushing person, +disposed to meddle in the affairs of others, here is where that reader +will have his satisfaction and revenge. For if ever a troublesome puppet +was jerked suddenly off the stage--if ever a long-winded orator was +effectively snuffed out--I was that puppet and that orator. I stop and +think--shall I describe how I paced up and down the pier, respectfully +but emphatically watched by the secretary? And all the melodramatic +plots I conceived, the muffled oars and the midnight visits to my +Sylvia? My sense of humour forbids it. For a while now I shall take +the hint and stay in the background of this story. I shall tell the +experiences of Sylvia as Sylvia herself told them to me long afterwards; +saying no more about my own fate--save that I swallowed my humiliation +and took the next train to New York, a far sadder and wiser +social-reformer! + + + + + +BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL + + +1. Long afterwards Sylvia told me about what happened between her +husband and herself; how desperately she tried to avoid discussing the +issue with him--out of her very sense of fairness to him. But he came to +her room, in spite of her protest, and by his implacable persistence +he made her hear what he had to say. When he had made up his mind to a +certain course of action, he was no more to be resisted than a glacier. + +"Sylvia," he said, "I know that you are upset by what has happened. I +make every allowance for your condition; but there are some statements +that I must be permitted to make, and there are simply no two ways about +it--you must get yourself together and hear me." + +"Let me see Mary Abbott!" she insisted, again and again. "It may not be +what you want--but I demand to see her." + +So at last he said, "You cannot see Mrs. Abbott. She has gone back to +New York." And then, at her look of consternation: "That is one of the +things I have to talk to you about." + +"Why has she gone back?" cried Sylvia. + +"Because I was unwilling to have her here." + +"You mean you sent her away?" + +"I mean that she understood she was no longer welcome." + +Sylvia drew a quick breath and turned away to the window. + +He took advantage of the opportunity to come near, and draw up a chair +for her. "Will you not pleased to be seated," he said. And at last she +turned, rigidly, and seated herself. + +"The time has come," he declared, "when we have to settle this question +of Mrs. Abbott, and her influence upon your life. I have argued with you +about such matters, but now what has happened makes further discussion +impossible. You were brought up among people of refinement, and it has +been incredible to me that you should be willing to admit to your home +such a woman as this--not merely of the commonest birth, but without a +trace of the refinement to which you have been accustomed. And now +you see the consequences of your having brought such a person into our +life!" + +He paused. She made no sound, and her gaze was riveted upon the +window-curtain. + +"She happens to be here," he went on, "at a time when a dreadful +calamity befalls us--when we are in need of the utmost sympathy and +consideration. Here is an obscure and terrible affliction, which has +baffled the best physicians in the country; but this ignorant farmer's +wife considers that she knows all about it. She proceeds to discuss it +with every one--sending your poor aunt almost into hysterics, setting +the nurses to gossiping--God knows what else she has done, or what she +will do, before she gets through. I don't pretend to know her ultimate +purpose--blackmail, possibly----" + +"Oh, how can you!" she broke out, involuntarily. "How can you say such a +thing about a friend of mine?" + +"I might answer with another question--how can you have such a friend? +A woman who has cast off every restraint, every consideration of +decency--and yet is able to persuade a daughter of the Castlemans to +make her an intimate! Possibly she is an honest fanatic. Dr. Perrin +tells me she was the wife of a brutal farmer, who mistreated her. No +doubt that has embittered her against men, and accounts for her mania. +You see that her mind leaped at once to the most obscene and hideous +explanation of this misfortune of ours--an explanation which pleased her +because it blackened the honour of a man." + +He stopped again. Sylvia's eyes had moved back to the window-curtain. + +"I am not going to insult your ears," he said, "with discussions of her +ideas. The proper person to settle such matters is a physician, and if +you wish Dr. Perrin to do so, he will tell you what he knows about the +case. But I wish you to realize somehow what this thing has meant to +me. I have managed to control myself----" He saw her shut her lips more +tightly. "The doctors tell me that I must not excite you. But picture +the situation. I come to my home, bowed down with grief for you and for +my child. And this mad woman thrusts herself forward, shoves aside your +aunt and your physicians, and comes in the launch to meet me at the +station. And then she accuses me of being criminally guilty of the +blindness of my child--of having wilfully deceived my wife! Think of +it--that is my welcome to my home!" + +"Douglas," she cried, wildly, "Mary Abbott would not have done such a +thing without reason----" + +"I do not purpose to defend myself," he said, coldly. "If you are bent +upon filling your mind with such matters, go to Dr. Perrin. He will +tell you that he, as a physician, knows that the charge against me is +preposterous. He will tell you that even granting that the cause of +the blindness is what Mrs. Abbott guesses, there are a thousand ways in +which such an infection can be contracted, which are perfectly innocent, +involving no guilt on the part of anyone. Every doctor knows that +drinking-cups, wash-basins, towels, even food, can be contaminated. He +knows that any person can bring the affliction into a home--servants, +nurses, even the doctors themselves. Has your mad woman friend told you +any of that?" + +"She has told me nothing. You know that I have had no opportunity to +talk with her. I only know what the nurses believe----" + +"They believe what Mrs. Abbott told them. That is absolutely all the +reason they have for believing anything!" + +She did not take that quite as he expected. "So Mary Abbott _did_ tell +them!" she cried. + +He hurried on: "The poisonous idea of a vulgar Socialist woman--this is +the thing upon which you base your suspicions of your husband!" + +"Oh!" she whispered, half to herself. "Mary Abbott _did_ say it!" + +"What if she did?" + +"Oh, Douglas, Mary would never have said such a thing to a nurse unless +she had been certain of it!" + +"Certain?" he broke out. "What certainty could she imagine she had? +She is a bitter, frantic woman--a divorced woman--who jumped to the +conclusion that pleased her, because it involved the humiliation of a +rich man." + +He went on, his voice trembling with suppressed passion: "When you know +the real truth, the thing becomes a nightmare. You, a delicate woman, +lying here helpless--the victim of a cruel misfortune, and with the +life of an afflicted infant depending upon your peace of mind. Your +physicians planning day and night to keep you quiet, to keep the +dreadful, unbearable truth from you----" + +"Oh, what truth? That's the terrifying thing--to know that people are +keeping things from me! What _was_ it they were keeping?" + +"First of all, the fact that the baby was blind; and then the cause of +it----" + +"Then they _do_ know the cause?" + +"They don't know positively--no one can know positively. But poor +Dr. Perrin had a dreadful idea, that he had to hide from you because +otherwise he could not bear to continue in your house----" + +"Why, Douglas! What do you mean?" + +"I mean that a few days before your confinement, he was called away to +the case of a negro-woman--you knew that, did you not?" + +"Go on." + +"He had the torturing suspicion that possibly he was not careful enough +in sterilizing his instruments, and that he, your friend and protector, +may be the man who is to blame." + +"Oh! Oh!" Her voice was a whisper of horror. + +"That is one of the secrets your doctors have been trying to hide." + +There was silence, while her eyes searched his face. Suddenly she +stretched out her hands to him, crying desperately: "Oh, is this true?" + +He did not take the outstretched hands. "Since I am upon the +witness-stand, I have to be careful of my replies. It is what Dr. Perrin +tells me. Whether the explanation he gives is the true one--whether +he himself, or the nurse he recommended, may have brought the +infection----" + +"It couldn't have been the nurse," she said quickly. "She was so +careful----" + +He did not allow her to finish. "You seem determined," he said, coldly, +"to spare everyone but your husband." + +"No!" she protested, "I have tried hard to be fair--to be fair to both +you and my friend. Of course, if Mary Abbott was mistaken, I have done +you a great injustice--" + +He saw that she was softening, and that it was safe for him to be a +man. "It has been with some difficulty that I have controlled myself +throughout this experience," he said, rising to his feet. "If you do not +mind, I think I will not carry the discussion any further, as I don't +feel that I can trust myself to listen to a defence of that woman from +your lips. I will only tell you my decision in the matter. I have never +before used my authority as a husband; I hoped I should never have to +use it. But the time has come when you will have to choose between +Mary Abbott and your husband. I will positively not tolerate your +corresponding with her, or having anything further to do with her. +I take my stand upon that, and nothing will move me. I will not even +permit of any discussion of the subject. And now I hope you will excuse +me. Dr. Perrin wishes me to tell you that either he or Dr. Gibson are +ready at any time to advise you about these matters, which have been +forced upon your mind against their judgment and protests." + +2. You can see that it was no easy matter for Sylvia to get at the +truth. The nurses, already terrified because of their indiscretion, had +been first professionally thrashed, and then carefully drilled as to the +answers they were to make. But as a matter of fact they did not have +to make any answers at all, because Sylvia was unwilling to reveal to +anyone her distrust of her husband. + +One of two things was certain: either she had been horribly wronged by +her husband, or now she was horribly wronging him. Which was the truth? +Was it conceivable that I, Mary Abbott, would leap to a false conclusion +about such a matter? She knew that I felt intensely, almost fanatically, +on the subject, and also that I had been under great emotional stress. +Was it possible that I would have voiced mere suspicions to the nurses? +Sylvia could not be sure, for my standards were as strange to her as +my Western accent. She knew that I talked freely to everyone about such +matters--and would be as apt to select the nurses as the ladies of +the house. On the other hand, how was it conceivable that I could know +positively? To recognize a disease might be easy; but to specify from +what source it had come--that was surely not in my power! + +They did not leave her alone for long. Mrs. Tuis came in, with her +feminine terrors. "Sylvia, you must know that you are treating your +husband dreadfully! He has gone away down the beach by himself, and has +not even seen his baby!" + +"Aunt Varina--" she began, "won't you please go away?" + +But the other rushed on: "Your husband comes here, broken with grief +because of this affliction; and you overwhelm him with the most cruel +and wicked reproaches with charges you have no way in the world of +proving----" And the old lady caught her niece by the hand. "My child! +Come, do your duty!" + +"My duty?" + +"Make yourself fit, and take your husband to see his baby." + +"Oh, I can't!" cried Sylvia. "I don't want to be there when he sees her! +If I loved him--" Then, seeing her aunt's face of horror, she was seized +with a sudden impulse of pity, and caught the poor old lady in her arms. +"Aunt Varina," she said, "I am making you suffer, I know--I am making +everyone suffer! But if you only knew how I am suffering myself! How can +I know what to do." + +Mrs. Tuis was weeping; but quickly she got herself together, and +answered in a firm voice, "Your old auntie can tell you what to do. You +must come to your senses, my child--you must let your reason prevail. +Get your face washed, make yourself presentable, and come and take your +husband to see your baby. Women have to suffer, dear; we must not shirk +our share of life's burdens." + +"There is no danger of my shirking," said Sylvia, bitterly. + +"Come, dear, come," pleaded Mrs. Tuis. She was trying to lead the girl +to the mirror. If only she could be made to see how distraught and +disorderly she looked! "Let me help you to dress, dear--you know how +much better it always makes you feel." + +Sylvia laughed, a trifle wildly--but Mrs. Tuis had dealt with hysteria +before. "What would you like to wear?" she demanded. And then, without +waiting for an answer, "Let me choose something. One of your pretty +frocks." + +"A pretty frock, and a seething volcano underneath! That is your idea of +a woman's life!" + +The other responded very gravely, "A pretty frock, my dear, and a +smile--instead of a vulgar scene, and ruin and desolation afterwards." + +Sylvia made no reply. Yes, that was the life of woman--her old aunt +knew! And her old aunt knew also the psychology of her sex. She did not +go on talking about pretty frocks in the abstract; she turned at once to +the clothes-closet, and began laying pretty frocks upon the bed! + +3. Sylvia emerged upon the "gallery," clad in dainty pink muslin, her +beautiful shiny hair arranged under a semi-invalid's cap of pink maline. +Her face was pale, and the big red-brown eyes were hollow; but she was +quiet, and apparently mistress of herself again. She even humoured Aunt +Varina by leaning slightly upon her feeble arm, while the maid hastened +to place her chair in a shaded spot. + +Her husband came, and the doctors; the tea-things were brought, and +Aunt Varina poured tea, a-flutter with excitement. They talked about +the comparative temperatures of New York and the Florida Keys, and about +hedges of jasmine to shade the gallery from the evening sun. And after +a while, Aunt Varina arose, explaining that she would prepare Elaine for +her father's visit. In the doorway she stood for a moment, smiling upon +the pretty picture; it was all settled now--the outward forms had been +observed, and the matter would end, as such matters should end between +husband and wife--a few tears, a few reproaches, and then a few kisses. + +The baby was made ready, with a new dress, and a fresh silk bandage +to cover the pitiful, lifeless eyes. Aunt Varina had found pleasure in +making these bandages; she made them soft and pretty--less hygienic, +perhaps, but avoiding the suggestion of the hospital. + +When Sylvia and her husband came into the room, the faces of both of +them were white. Sylvia stopped near the door-way; and poor Aunt Varina +fluttered about, in agony of soul. When van Tuiver went to the cradle, +she hurried to his side, and sought to awaken the little one with gentle +nudges. Quite unexpectedly to her, van Tuiver sought to pick up the +infant; she helped him, and he stood, holding it awkwardly, as if afraid +it might go to pieces in his arms. + +So any man might appear, with his first infant; but to Sylvia it seemed +the most tragic sight she had ever seen in her life. She gave a low +cry, "Douglas!" and he turned, and she saw his face was working with the +feeling he was ashamed for anyone to see. "Oh, Douglas," she whispered, +"I'm so _sorry_ for you!" At which Aunt Varina decided that it was time +for her to make her escape. + +4. But the trouble between these two were not such as could be settled +by any burst of emotion. The next day they were again in a dispute, for +he had come to ask her word of honour that she would never see me again, +and would give him my letters to be returned unopened. This last was +what she had let her father do in the case of Frank Shirley; and she had +become certain in her own mind that she had done wrong. + +But he was insistent in his demand; declaring that it should be obvious +to her there could be no peace of mind for him so long as my influence +continued in her life. + +"But surely," protested Sylvia, "to hear Mary Abbott's explanation----" + +"There can be no explanation that is not an insult to your husband, and +to those who are caring for you. I am speaking in this matter not merely +for myself, but for your physicians, who know this woman, heard her +menaces and her vulgarity. It is their judgment that you should be +protected at all hazards from further contact with her." + +"Douglas," she argued, "you must realize that I am in distress of mind +about this matter----" + +"I certainly realize that." + +"And if you are thinking of my welfare, you should choose a course that +would set my mind at rest. But when you come to me and ask me that I +should not even read a letter from my friend--don't you realize what you +suggest to me, that there is something you are afraid for me to know?" + +"I do not attempt to deny my fear of this woman. I have seen how she has +been able to poison your mind with suspicions----" + +"Yes, Douglas--but now that has been done. What else is there to fear +from her?" + +"I have no idea what. She is a bitter, jealous woman, with a mind full +of hatred; and you are an innocent girl, who cannot judge about these +matters. What idea have you of the world in which you live, of the +slanders to which a man in your husband's position is exposed?" + +"I am not quite such a child as that----" + +"You have simply no idea, I tell you. I remember your consternation +when we first met, and I told you about the woman who had written me +a begging letter, and got an interview with me, and then started +screaming, and refused to leave the house till I had paid her a lot of +money. You had never heard such stories, had you? Yet it is the kind of +thing that is happening to rich men continually; it was one of the first +rules I was taught, never to let myself be alone with a strange woman, +no matter of what age, or under what circumstances." + +"But, I assure you, I would not listen to such people----" + +"You are asking right now to listen! And you would be influenced by +her--you could not help it, any more than you can help being distressed +about what she has already said. She intimated to Dr. Perrin that she +believed that I had been a man of depraved life, and that my wife and +child were now paying the penalty. How can I tell what vile stories +concerning me she may not have heard? How could I have any peace of mind +while I knew that she was free to pour them into your ear?" + +Sylvia sat dumb with questions she would not utter, hovering on the tip +of her tongue. + +He took her silence for acquiesence, and went on, quickly, "Let me give +you an illustration. A friend of mine whom you know well--I might as +well tell you his name, it was Freddie Atkins--was at supper with some +theatrical women; and one of them, not having any idea that Freddie knew +me, proceeded to talk about me, and how she had met me, and where we had +been together--about my yacht, and my castle in Scotland, and I don't +know what all else. It seems that this woman had been my mistress for +several years; she told quite glibly about me and my habits. Freddie got +the woman's picture, on some pretext or other, and brought it to me; I +had never laid eyes on her in my life. He could hardly believe it, and +to prove it to him I offered to meet the woman, under another name. +We sat in a restaurant, and she told the tale to Freddie and myself +together--until finally he burst out laughing, and told her who I was." + +He paused, to let this sink in. "Now, suppose your friend, Mary Abbott, +had met that woman! I don't imagine she is particularly careful whom +she associates with; and suppose she had come and told you that she knew +such a woman--what would you have said? Can you deny that the tale would +have made an impression on you? Yet, I've not the least doubt there are +scores of women who made such tales about me a part of their stock in +trade; there are thousands of women whose fortunes would be made for +life if they could cause such a tale to be believed. And imagine how +well-informed they would be, if anyone were to ask them concerning +my habits, and the reason why our baby is blind! I tell you, when the +rumour concerning our child has begun to spread, there will be ten +thousand people in New York city who will know of first-hand, personal +knowledge exactly how it happened, and how you took it, and everything +that I said to you about it. There will be sneers in the society-papers, +from New York to San Francisco; and smooth-tongued gentlemen calling, +to give us hints that we can stop these sneers by purchasing a de-luxe +edition of a history of our ancestors for six thousand dollars. There +will be well-meaning and beautiful-souled people who will try to get +you to confide in them, and then use their knowledge of your domestic +unhappiness to blackmail you; there will be threats of law-suits from +people who will claim that they have contracted a disease from you +or your child--your laundress, perhaps, or your maid, or one of these +nurses----" + +"Oh, stop! stop!" she cried. + +"I am quite aware," he said, quietly, "that these things are not +calculated to preserve the peace of mind of a young mother. You are +horrified when I tell you of them--yet you clamour for the right to have +Mrs. Abbott tell you of them! I warn you, Sylvia--you have married a +rich man, who is exposed to the attacks of cunning and unscrupulous +enemies. You, as his wife, are exactly as much exposed--possibly even +more so. Therefore when I see you entering into what I know to be a +dangerous intimacy, I must have the right to say to you, This shall +stop, and I tell you, there can never be any safety or peace of mind for +either of us, so long as you attempt to deny me that right." + +5. Dr. Gibson took his departure three or four days later; and before +he went, he came to give her his final blessing; talking to her, as he +phrased it, "like a Dutch uncle." "You must understand," he said, "I am +almost old enough to be your grandfather. I have four sons, anyone of +whom might have married you, if they had had the good fortune to be in +Castleman County at the critical time. So you must let me be frank with +you." + +Sylvia indicated that she was willing. + +"We don't generally talk to women about these matters; because they've +no standard by which to judge, and they almost always fly off and have +hysterics. Their case seems to them exceptional and horrible, their +husbands the blackest criminals in the whole tribe." + +He paused for a moment. "Now, Mrs. van Tuiver, the disease which has +made your baby blind is probably what we call gonorrhea. When it gets +into the eyes, it has very terrible results. But it doesn't often get +into the eyes, and for the most part it's a trifling affair, that we +don't worry about. I know there are a lot of new-fangled notions, but +I'm an old man, with experience of my own, and I have to have things +proven to me. I know that with as much of this disease as we doctors +see, if it was a deadly disease, there'd be nobody left alive in the +world. As I say, I don't like to discuss it with women; but it was not I +who forced the matter upon your attention----" + +"Pray go on, Dr. Gibson," she said. "I really wish to know all that you +will tell me." + +"The question has come up, how was this disease brought to your child? +Dr. Perrin suggested that possibly he--you understand his fear; and +possibly he is correct. But it seems to me an illustration of the +unwisdom of a physician's departing from his proper duty, which is to +cure people. If you wish to find out who brought a disease, what you +need is a detective. I know, of course, that there are people who can +combine the duties of physician and detective--and that without any +previous preparation or study of either profession." + +He waited for this irony to sink in; and Sylvia also waited, patiently. + +At last he resumed, "The idea has been planted in your mind that your +husband brought the trouble; and that idea is sure to stay there and +fester. So it becomes necessary for someone to talk to you straight. Let +me tell you that eight men out of ten have had this disease at some time +in their lives; also that very few of them were cured of it when they +thought they were. You have a cold: and then next month, you say +the cold is gone. So it is, for practical purposes. But if I take a +microscope, I find the germs of the cold still in your membranes, and I +know that you can give a cold, and a bad cold, to some one else who is +sensitive. It is true that you may go through all the rest of your life +without ever being entirely rid of that cold. You understand me?" + +"Yes," said Sylvia, in a low voice. + +"I say eight out of ten. Estimates would differ. Some doctors would say +seven out of ten--and some actual investigations have shown nine out of +ten. And understand me, I don't mean bar-room loafers and roustabouts. +I mean your brothers, if you have any, your cousins, your best friends, +the men who came to make love to you, and whom you thought of marrying. +If you had found it out about any one of them, of course you'd have cut +the acquaintance; yet you'd have been doing an injustice--for if you +had done that to all who'd ever had the disease, you might as well have +retired to a nunnery at once." + +The old gentleman paused again; then frowning at her under his bushy +eye-brows, he exclaimed, "I tell you, Mrs. van Tuiver, you're doing your +husband a wrong. Your husband loves you, and he's a good man--I've +had some talks with him, and I know he's not got nearly so much on his +conscience as the average husband. I'm a Southern man, and I know these +gay young bloods you've danced and flirted with all your young life. Do +you think if you went probing into their secret affairs, you'd have +had much pleasure in their company afterwards? I tell you again, you're +doing your husband a wrong! You're doing something that very few men +would stand, as patiently as he has stood it so far." + +All this time Sylvia had given no sign. So the old gentleman began to +feel a trifle uneasy. "Mind you," he said, "I'm not saying that men +ought to be like that. They deserve a good hiding, most of them--they're +very few of them fit to associate with a good woman. I've always said +that no man is really good enough for a good woman. But my point is that +when you select one to punish, you select not the guiltiest one, but +simply the one who's had the misfortune to fall under suspicion. And he +knows that's not fair; he'd have to be more than human if deep in his +soul he did not bitterly resent it. You understand me?" + +"I understand," she replied, in the same repressed voice. + +And the doctor rose and laid his hand on her shoulder. "I'm going home," +he said--"very probably we'll never meet each other again. I see you +making a great mistake, laying up unhappiness for yourself in the +future; and I wish to prevent it if I can. I wish to persuade you to +face the facts of the world in which we live. So I am going to tell you +something that I never expected I should tell to a lady." + +He was looking her straight in the eye. "You see me--I'm an old man, and +I seem fairly respectable to you. You've laughed at me some, but even +so, you've found it possible to get along with me without too great +repugnance. Well, I've had this disease; I've had it, and nevertheless +I've raised six fine, sturdy children. More than that--I'm not free to +name anybody else, but I happen to know positively that among the men +your husband employs on this island there are two who have the disease +right now. And the next charming and well-bred gentleman you are +introduced to, just reflect that there are at least eight chances in ten +that he has had the disease, and perhaps three or four in ten that he +has it at the minute he's shaking hands with you. And now you think that +over, and stop tormenting your poor husband!" + +6. One of the first things I did when I reached New York was to send a +little love-letter to Sylvia. I said nothing that would distress her; I +merely assured her that she was in my thoughts, and that I should look +to see her in New York, when we could have a good talk. I put this in +a plain envelope, with a typewritten address, and registered it in the +name of my stenographer. The receipt came back, signed by an unknown +hand, probably the secretary's. I found out later that the letter never +got to Sylvia. + +No doubt it was the occasion of renewed efforts upon her husband's part +to obtain from her the promise he desired. He would not be put off with +excuses; and at last he got her answer, in the shape of a letter which +she told him she intended to mail to me. In this letter she announced +her decision that she owed it to her baby to avoid all excitement and +nervous strain during the time that she was nursing it. Her husband had +sent for the yacht, and they were going to Scotland, and in the winter +to the Mediterranean and the Nile. Meantime she would not correspond +with me; but she wished me to know that there was to be no break in our +friendship, and that she would see me upon her return to New York. + +"There is much that has happened that I do not understand," she added. +"For the present, however, I shall try to dismiss it from my mind. I am +sure you will agree that it is right for me to give a year to being +a mother; as I wish you to feel perfectly at peace in the meantime, I +mention that it is my intention to be a mother only, and not a wife. I +am showing this letter to my husband before I mail it, so that he may +know exactly what I am doing, and what I have decided to do in the +future." + +"Of course," he said, after reading this, "you may send the letter, +if you insist--but you must realize that you are only putting off the +issue." + +She made no reply; and at last he asked, "You mean you intend to defy me +in this matter?" + +"I mean," she replied, quietly, "that for the sake of my baby I intend +to put off all discussion for a year." + +7. I figured that I should hear from Claire Lepage about two days after +I reached New York; and sure enough, she called me on the 'phone. +"I want to see you at once," she declared; and her voice showed the +excitement under which she was labouring. + +"Very well," I said, "come down." + +She entered my little living-room. It was the first time she had ever +visited me, but she did not stop for a glance about her; she did not +even stop to sit down. "Why didn't you tell me that you knew Sylvia +Castleman?" she cried. + +"My dear woman," I replied, "I was not under the least obligation to +tell you." + +"You have betrayed me!" she exclaimed, wildly. + +"Come, Claire," I said, after I had looked her in the eye a bit to calm +her. "You know quite well that I was under no bond of secrecy. And, +besides, I haven't done you any harm." + +"Why did you do it?" I regret to add that she swore. + +"I never once mentioned your name, Claire." + +"How much good do you imagine that does me? They have managed to find +out everything. They caught me in a trap." + +I reminded myself that it would not do to show any pity for her. "Sit +down, Claire," I said. "Tell me about it." + +She cried, in a last burst of anger, "I don't want to talk to you!" + +"All right," I answered. "But then, why did you come?" + +There was no reply to that. She sat down. "They were too much for me!" +she lamented. "If I'd had the least hint, I might have held my own. As +it was--I let them make a fool of me." + +"You are talking hieroglyphics to me. Who are 'they'?" + +"Douglas, and that old fox, Rossiter Torrance." + +"Rossiter Torrance?" I repeated the name, and then suddenly remembered. +The thin-lipped old family lawyer! + +"He sent up his card, and said he'd been sent to see me by Mary Abbot. +Of course, I had no suspicion--I fell right into the trap. We talked +about you for a while--he even got me to tell him where you lived; and +then at last he told me that he hadn't come from you at all, but had +merely wanted to find out if I knew you, and how intimate we were. He +had been sent by Douglas; and he wanted to know right away how much I +had told you about Douglas, and why I had done it. Of course, I denied +that I had told anything. Heavens, what a time he gave me!" + +Claire paused. "Mary, how could you have played such a trick upon me?" + +"I had no thought of doing you any harm," I replied. "I was simply +trying to help Sylvia." + +"To help her at any expense!" + +"Tell me, what will come of it? Are you afraid they'll cut off your +allowance?" + +"That's the threat." + +"But will they carry it out?" + +She sat, gazing at me resentfully. "I don't know whether I ought to +trust you any more," she said. + +"Do what you please about that," I replied. "I don't want to urge you." + +She hesitated a bit longer, and then decided to throw herself upon my +mercy. They would not dare to carry out their threat, so long as Sylvia +had not found out the whole truth. So now she had come to beg me to tell +no more than I had already told. She was utterly abject about it. I had +pretended to be her friend, I had won her confidence and listened to her +confessions; how did I wish to ruin her utterly, to have her cast out on +the street? + +Poor Claire! I said in the early part of my story that she understood +the language of idealism; but I wonder what I have told about her that +justifies this. The truth is, she was going down so fast that already +she seemed a different person; and she had been frightened by the +thin-lipped old family lawyer, so that she was incapable of even a +decent pretence. + +"Claire," I said, "there is no need for you to go on like this. I +have not the slightest intention of telling Sylvia about you. I cannot +imagine the circumstances that would make me want to tell her. Even if I +should do it, I would tell her in confidence, so that her husband would +never have any idea----" + +She went almost wild at this. To imagine that a woman would keep such a +confidence! As if she would not throw it at her husband's head the first +time they quarreled! Besides, if Sylvia knew this truth, she might leave +him; and if she left him, Claire's hold on his money would be gone. + +Over this money we had a long and lachrymose interview. And at the end +of it, there she sat gazing into space, baffled and bewildered. What +kind of a woman was I? How had I got to be the friend of Sylvia van +Tuiver? What had she seen in me, and what did I expect to get out of +her? I answered briefly; and suddenly Claire was overwhelmed by a rush +of curiosity--plain human curiosity. What was Sylvia like? Was she as +clever as they said? What was the baby like, and how was Sylvia taking +the misfortune? Could it really be true that I had been visiting the van +Tuivers in Florida, as old Rossiter Torrance had implied? + +Needless to say, I did not answer these questions freely. And I really +think my visitor was more pained by my uncommunicativeness than she +was by my betrayal of her. It was interesting also to notice a subtle +difference in her treatment of me. Gone was the slight touch of +condescension, gone was most of the familiarity! I had become a +personage, a treasurer of high state secrets, an intimate of the great +ones! There must be something more to me than Claire had realized +before! + +Poor Claire! She passes here from this story. For years thereafter I +used to catch a glimpse of her now and then, in the haunts of the birds +of gorgeous plumage; but I never got a chance to speak to her, nor did +she ever call on me again. So I do not know if Douglas van Tuiver still +continues her eight thousand a year. All I can say is that when I saw +her, her plumage was as gorgeous as ever, and its style duly certified +to the world that it had not been held over from a previous season of +prosperity. Twice I thought she had been drinking too much; but then--so +had many of the other ladies with the little glasses of bright-coloured +liquids before them. + +8. For the rest of that year I knew nothing about Sylvia except what I +read in the "society" column of my newspaper--that she was spending the +late summer in her husband's castle in Scotland. I myself was suffering +from the strain of what I had been through, and had to take a vacation. +I went West; and when I came back in the fall, to plunge again into my +work, I read that the van Tuivers, in their yacht, the "Triton," were in +the Mediterranean, and were planning to spend the winter in Japan. + +And then one day in January, like a bolt from the blue, came a cablegram +from Sylvia, dated Cairo: "Sailing for New York, Steamship 'Atlantic,' +are you there, answer." + +Of course I answered. And I consulted the sailing-lists, and waited, +wild with impatience. She sent me a wireless, two days out, and so I was +at the pier when the great vessel docked. Yes, there she was, waving her +handkerchief to me; and there by her side stood her husband. + +It was a long, cold ordeal, while the ship was warped in. We could only +gaze at each other across the distance, and stamp our feet and beat our +hands. There were other friends waiting for the van Tuivers, I saw, +and so I held myself in the background, full of a thousand wild +speculations. How incredible that Sylvia, arriving with her husband, +should have summoned me to meet her! + +At last the gangway was let down, and the stream of passengers began +to flow. In time came the van Tuivers, and their friends gathered +to welcome them. I waited; and at last Sylvia came to me--outwardly +calm--but with her emotions in the pressure of her two hands. "Oh, Mary, +Mary!" she murmured. "I'm so glad to see you! I'm so glad to see you!" + +"What has happened?" I asked. + +Her voice went to a whisper. "I am leaving my husband." + +"Leaving your husband!" I stood, dumbfounded. + +"Leaving him for ever, Mary." + +"But--but----" I could not finish the sentence. My eyes moved to where +he stood, calmly chatting with his friends. + +"He insisted on coming back with me, to preserve appearances. He is +terrified of the gossip. He is going all the way home, and then leave +me." + +"Sylvia! What does it mean?" I whispered. + +"I can't tell you here. I want to come and see you. Are you living at +the same place?" + +I answered in the affirmative. + +"It's a long story," she added. "I must apologise for asking you to come +here, where we can't talk. But I did it for an important reason. I can't +make my husband really believe that I mean what I say; and you are my +Declaration of Independence!" And she laughed, but a trifle wildly, and +looking at her suddenly, I realized that she was keyed almost to the +breaking point. + +"You poor dear!" I murmured. + +"I wanted to show him that I meant what I said. I wanted him to see us +meet. You see, he's going home, thinking that with the help of my people +he can make me change my mind." + +"But why do you go home? Why not stay here with me? There's an apartment +vacant next to mine." + +"And with a baby?" + +"There are lots of babies in our tenement," I said. But to tell the +truth, I had almost forgotten the baby in the excitement of the moment. +"How is she," I asked. + +"Come and see," said Sylvia; and when I glanced enquiringly at the tall +gentleman who was chatting with his friends, she added, "She's _my_ +baby, and I have a right to show her." + +The nurse, a rosy-cheeked English girl in a blue dress and a bonnet with +long streamers, stood apart, holding an armful of white silk and lace. +Sylvia turned back the coverings; and again I beheld the vision which +had so thrilled me--the comical little miniature of herself--her nose, +her lips, her golden hair. But oh, the pitiful little eyes, that did not +move! I looked at my friend, uncertain what I should say; I was startled +to see her whole being aglow with mother-pride. "Isn't she a dear?" she +whispered. "And, Mary, she's learning so fast, and growing--you couldn't +believe it!" Oh, the marvel of mother-love, I thought--that is blinder +than any child it ever bore! + +We turned away; and Sylvia said, "I'll come to you as soon as I've got +the baby settled. Our train starts for the South to-night, so I shan't +waste any time." + +"God bless you, dear," I whispered; and she gave my hand a squeeze, and +turned away. I stood for a few moments watching, and saw her approach +her husband, and exchange a few smiling words with him in the presence +of their friends. I, knowing the agony that was in the hearts of that +desperate young couple, marvelled anew at the discipline of caste. + +9. She sat in my big arm-chair; and how proud I was of her, and +how thrilled by her courage. Above all, however, I was devoured by +curiosity. "Tell me!" I exclaimed. + +"There's so much," she said. + +"Tell me why you are leaving him." + +"Mary, because I don't love him. That's the one reason. I have thought +it out--I have thought of little else for the last year. I have come to +see that it is wrong for a woman to live with a man she does not love. +It is the supreme crime a woman can commit." + +"Ah, yes!" I said. "If you have got that far!" + +"I have got that far. Other things have contributed, but they are not +the real things--they might have been forgiven. The fact that he had +this disease, and made my child blind----" + +"Oh! You found out that?" + +"Yes, I found it out." + +"How?" + +"It came to me little by little. In the end, he grew tired of +pretending, I think." She paused for a moment, then went on, "The +trouble was over the question of my obligations as a wife. You see, I +had told him at the outset that I was going to live for my baby, and for +her alone. That was the ground upon which he had persuaded me not to see +you or read any of your letters. I was to ask no questions, and be nice +and bovine--and I agreed. But then, a few months ago, my husband came to +me with the story of his needs. He said that the doctors had given their +sanction to our reunion. Of course, I was stunned. I knew that he had +understood me before we left Florida." + +She stopped. "Yes, dear," I said, gently. + +"Well, he said now the doctors were agreed there was no danger to either +of us. We could take precautions and not have children. I could only +plead that the whole subject was distressing to me. He had asked me to +put off my problems till my baby was weaned; now I asked him to put off +his. But that would not do, it seemed. He took to arguing with me. It +was an unnatural way to live, and he could not endure it. I was a woman, +and I couldn't understand this. It seemed utterly impossible to make him +realize what I felt. I suppose he has always had what he wanted, and he +simply does not know what it is to be denied. It wasn't only a physical +thing, I think; it was an affront to his pride, a denial of his +authority." She stopped, and I saw her shudder. + +"I have been through it all," I said. + +"He wanted to know how long I expected to withhold myself. I said, +'Until I have got this disease out of my mind, as well as out of my +body; until I know that there is no possibility of either of us having +it, to give to the other.' But then, after I had taken a little more +time to think it over, I said, 'Douglas, I must be honest with you. I +shall never be able to live with you again. It is no longer a question +of your wishes or mine--it is a question of right or wrong. I do not +love you. I know now that it can never under any circumstances be right +for a woman to give herself in the intimacy of the sex-relation without +love. When she does it, she is violating the deepest instinct of her +nature, the very voice of God in her soul.' + +"His reply was, 'Why didn't you know that before you married?' + +"I answered, 'I did not know what marriage meant; and I let myself be +persuaded by others.' + +"'By your own mother!' he declared. + +"I said, 'A mother who permits her daughter to commit such an offence is +either a slave-dealer, or else a slave.' Of course, he thought I was +out of my mind at that. He argued about the duties of marriage, the +preserving of the home, wives submitting themselves to their husbands, +and so on. He would not give me any peace----" + +And suddenly she started up. I saw in her eyes the light of old battles. +"Oh, it was a horror!" she cried, beginning to pace the floor. "It +seemed to me that I was living the agony of all the loveless marriages +of the world. I felt myself pursued, not merely by the importunate +desires of one man--I suffered with all the millions of women who give +themselves night after night without love! He came to seem like some +monster to me; I could not meet him unexpectedly without starting. I +forbade him to mention the subject to me again, and for a long time he +obeyed. But several weeks ago he brought it up afresh, and I lost my +self-control completely. 'Douglas,' I said, 'I can stand it no longer! +It is not only the tragedy of my blind child--it's that you have driven +me to hate you. You have crushed all the life and joy and youth out of +me! You've been to me like a terrible black cloud, constantly pressing +down on me, smothering me. You stalk around me like a grim, sepulchral +figure, closing me up in the circle of your narrow ideas. But now I can +endure it no longer. I was a proud, high-spirited girl, you've made +of me a colourless social automaton, a slave of your stupid worldly +traditions. I'm turning into a feeble, complaining, discontented wife! +And I refuse to be it. I'm going home--where at least there's some human +spontaneity left in people; I'm going back to my father!'--And I went +and looked up the next steamer!" + +She stopped. She stood before me, with the fire of her wild Southern +blood shining in her cheeks and in her eyes. + +I sat waiting, and finally she went on, "I won't repeat all his +protests. When he found that I was really going, he offered to take me +in the yacht, but I wouldn't go in the yacht. I had got to be really +afraid of him--sometimes, you know, his obstinacy seems to be abnormal, +almost insane. So then he decided he would have to go in the steamer +with me to preserve appearances. I had a letter saying that papa was +not well, and he said that would serve for an excuse. He is going to +Castleman County, and after he has stayed a week or so, he is going off +on a hunting-trip, and not return." + +"And will he do it?" + +"I don't think he expects to do it at present. I feel sure he has the +idea of starting mamma to quoting the Bible to me, and dragging me down +with her tears. But I have done all I can to make clear to him that +it will make no difference. I told him I would not say a word about my +intentions at home until he had gone away, and that I expected the same +silence from him. But, of course--" She stopped abruptly, and after a +moment she asked: "What do you think of it, Mary?" + +I leaned forward and took her two hands in mine. "Only," I said, "that +I'm glad you fought it out alone! I knew it had to come--and I didn't +want to have to help you to decide!" + +10. She sat for a while absorbed in her own thoughts. Knowing her as I +did, I understood what intense emotions were seething within her, what a +terrific struggle her decision must have represented. + +"Dear Friend," she said, suddenly, "don't think I haven't seen his side +of the case. I try to tell myself that I dealt with him frankly from +the beginning. But then I ask was there ever a man I dealt with frankly? +There was coquetry in the very clothes I wore! And now that we are so +entangled, now that he loves me, what is my duty? I find I can't respect +his love for me. A part of it is because my beauty fascinates him, but +more of it seems to me just wounded vanity. I was the only woman who +ever flouted him, and he has a kind of snobbery that made him think I +must be something remarkable because of it. I talked that all out with +him--yes, I've dragged him through all that humiliation. I wanted to +make him see that he didn't really love me, that he only wanted to +conquer me, to force me to admire him and submit to him. I want to +be myself, and he wants to be himself--that has always been the issue +between us." + +"That is the issue in many unhappy marriages," I said. + +"I've done a lot of thinking in the last year," she resumed--"about +things generally, I mean. We American women think we are so free. That +is because our husbands indulge us, give us money, and let us run +about. But when it comes to real freedom--freedom of intellect and of +character, English women are simply another kind of being from us. I met +a cabinet minister's wife--he's a Conservative in everything, and she's +an ardent suffragist; she not merely gives money, she makes speeches and +has a public name. Yet they are friends, and have a happy home-life. Do +you suppose my husband would consider such an arrangement?" + +"I thought he admired English ways," I said. + +"There was the Honorable Betty Annersley--the sister of a chum of his. +She was friendly with the militants, and I wanted to talk to her to +understand what such women thought. Yet my husband tried to stop me from +going to see her. And it's the same way with everything I try to do, +that threatens to take me out of his power. He wanted me to accept +the authority of the doctors as to any possible danger from venereal +disease. When I got the books, and showed him what the doctors admitted +about the question--the narrow margin of safety they allowed, the +terrible chances they took--he was angry again." + +She stopped, seeing a question in my eyes. "I've been reading up on the +subject," she explained. "I know it all now--the things I should have +known before I married." + +"How did you manage that?" + +"I tried to get two of the doctors to give me something to read, but +they wouldn't hear of it. I'd set myself crazy imagining things, it was +no sort of stuff for a woman's mind. So in the end I took the bit in my +teeth. I found a medical book store, and I went in and said: 'I am +an American physician, and I want to see the latest works on venereal +disease.' So the clerk took me to the shelves, and I picked out a couple +of volumes." + +"You poor child!" I exclaimed. + +"When Douglas found that I was reading these books he threatened to +burn them. I told him 'There are more copies in the store, and I am +determined to be educated on this subject.'" + +She paused. "How much like my own experience!" I thought. + +"There were chapters on the subject of wives, how much they were not +told, and why this was. So very quickly I began to see around my own +experience. Douglas must have figured out that this would be so, for the +end of the matter was an admission." + +"You don't mean he confessed to you!" + +She smiled bitterly. "No," she said. "He brought Dr. Perrin to London to +do it for him. Dr. Perrin said he had concluded I had best know that my +husband had had some symptoms of the disease. He, the doctor, wished to +tell me who was to blame for the attempt to deceive me. Douglas had been +willing to admit the truth, but all the doctors had forbidden it. I must +realise the fearful problem they had, and not blame them, and, above all +I must not blame my husband, who had been in their hands in the matter." + +"How stupid men are! As if that would excuse him!" + +"I'm afraid I showed the little man how poor an impression he had +made--both for himself and for his patron. But I had suffered all there +was to suffer, and I was tired of pretending. I told him it would +have been far better for them if they had told me the truth at the +beginning." + +"Ah, yes!" I said. "That is what I tried to make them see; but all I got +for it was a sentence of deportation!" + +11. When Sylvia's train arrived at the station of her home town, the +whole family was waiting upon the platform for her, and a good part of +the town besides. The news that she had arrived in New York, and was +coming home on account of her father's illness, had, of course, been +reproduced in all the local papers, with the result that the worthy +major had been deluged with telegrams and letters concerning his health. +Notwithstanding, he had insisted upon coming to the train to meet his +daughter. He was not going to be shut up in a sickroom to please all the +gossips of two hemispheres. In his best black broad-cloth, his broad, +black hat newly brushed, and his old-fashioned, square-toed shoes newly +shined, he paced up and down the station platform for half an hour, and +it was to his arms that Sylvia flew when she alighted from the train. + +There was "Miss Margaret," who had squeezed her large person and +fluttering draperies out of the family automobile, and was waiting to +shed tears over her favourite daughter; there was Celeste, radiant with +a wonderful piece of news which she alone was to impart to her sister; +there were Peggy and Maria, shot up suddenly into two amazingly-gawky +girls; there was Master Castleman Lysle, the only son of the house, with +his black-eyed and bad-tempered French governess. And finally there was +Aunt Varina, palpitating with various agitations, not daring to whisper +to anyone else the fears which this sudden home-coming inspired in her. +Bishop Chilton and his wife were away, but a delegation of cousins had +come; also Uncle Mandeville Castleman had sent a huge bunch of roses, +which were in the family automobile, and Uncle Barry Chilton had sent a +pair of wild turkeys, which were soon to be in the family. + +Behind Sylvia stalked her cold and haughty husband, and behind him +tripped the wonderful nursemaid, with her wonderful blue streamers, and +her wonderful bundle of ruffles and lace. All the huge family had to +fall upon Sylvia and kiss and embrace her rapturously, and shake the +hand of the cold and haughty husband, and peer into the wonderful +bundle, and go into ecstasies over its contents. Rarely, indeed, did the +great ones of this earth condescend to spread so much of their emotional +life before the public gaze; and was it any wonder that the town crowded +about, and the proprieties were temporarily repealed? + +It had never been published, but it was generally known throughout the +State that Sylvia's child was blind, and it was whispered that this +portended something strange and awful. So there hung about the young +mother and the precious bundle an atmosphere of mystery and melancholy. +How had she taken her misfortune? How had she taken all the great events +that had befallen her--her progress through the courts and camps of +Europe? Would she still condescend to know her fellow-townsmen? Many +were the hearts that beat high as she bestowed her largess of smiles +and friendly words. There were even humble old negroes who went off +enraptured to tell the town that "Mi' Sylvia" had actually shaken hands +with them. There was almost a cheer from the crowd as the string of +automobiles set out for Castleman Hall. + +12. There was a grand banquet that evening, at which the turkeys entered +the family. Not in years had there been so many people crowded into the +big dining-room, nor so many servants treading upon each other's toes in +the kitchen. + +Such a din of chatter and laughter! Sylvia was her old radiant self, and +her husband was quite evidently charmed by the patriarchal scene. He +was affable, really genial, and won the hearts of everybody; he told +the good major, amid a hush which almost turned his words into a speech, +that he was able to understand how they of the South loved their +own section so passionately; there was about the life an intangible +something--a spell, an elevation of spirit, which set it quite apart +by itself. And since this was the thing which they of the South most +delighted to believe concerning themselves, they listened enraptured, +and set the speaker apart as a rare and discerning spirit. + +Afterwards came the voice of Sylvia: "You must beware of Douglas, Papa; +he is an inveterate flatterer." She laughed as she said it; and of those +present it was Aunt Varina alone who caught the ominous note, and saw +the bitter curl of her lips as she spoke. Aunt Varina and her niece +were the only persons there who knew Douglas van Tuiver well enough to +appreciate the irony of the term "inveterate flatterer." + +Sylvia realized at once that her husband was setting out upon a campaign +to win her family to his side. He rode about the major's plantations, +absorbing information about the bollweevil. He rode back to the house, +and exchanged cigars, and listened to stories of the major's boyhood +during the war. He went to call upon Bishop Chilton, and sat in his +study, with its walls of faded black volumes on theology. Van Tuiver +himself had had a Church of England tutor, and was a punctilious high +churchman; but he listened respectfully to arguments for a simpler +form of church organization, and took away a voluminous _expose_ of +the fallacies of "Apostolic Succession." And then came Aunt Nannie, +ambitious and alert as when she had helped the young millionaire to find +a wife; and the young millionaire made the suggestion that Aunt Nannie's +third daughter should not fail to visit Sylvia at Newport. + +There was no limit, apparently, to what he would do. He took Master +Castleman Lysle upon his knee, and let him drop a valuable watch upon +the floor. He got up early in the morning and went horse-back riding +with Peggy and Maria. He took Celeste automobiling, and helped by his +attentions to impress the cocksure young man with whom Celeste was in +love. He won "Miss Margaret" by these attentions to all her children, +and the patience with which he listened to accounts of the ailments +which had afflicted the precious ones at various periods of their lives. +To Sylvia, watching all these proceedings, it was as if he were binding +himself to her with so many knots. + +She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone. +But this could not be, she discovered. There was gossip about the +child's blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into +hiding would have meant an admission of the worst. The ladies of the +family had prepared a grand "reception," at which all Castleman County +was to come and gaze upon the happy mother. And then there was the +monthly dance at the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the +hope of seeing the royal pair. To Sylvia it was as if her mother and +aunts were behind her every minute of the day, pushing her out into the +world. "Go on, go on! Show yourself! Do not let people begin to talk!" + +13. She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, +Harley Chilton. "Harley," she said, "my husband is anxious to go on a +hunting-trip. Will you go with him?" + +"When?" asked the boy. + +"Right away; to-morrow or the next day." + +"I'm game," said Harley. + +After which she went to her husband. "Douglas, it is time for you to +go." + +He sat studying her face. "You still have that idea?" he said, at last. + +"I still have it." + +"I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would +partially return." + +"I know what you have been hoping, Douglas. And I am sorry--but I am +quite unchanged." + +"Have we not been getting along happily here?" he demanded. + +"No, I have not--I have been wretched. And I cannot have any peace until +you no longer haunt me. I am sorry for you, but I must be alone--and so +long as you are here the entertainments will continue." + +"We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments. We +could find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in +peace." + +"Douglas," she said, "I have spoken to Cousin Harley. He is ready to +go hunting with you. Please call him up and make arrangements to start +to-morrow. If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for +one of Uncle Mandeville's plantations." + +There was a long silence. "Sylvia," he said, at last, "how long do you +imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?" + +"It will continue forever. My mind is made up. It is necessary that you +make up yours." + +Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control. "You propose to +keep the baby with you?" he asked, at last. + +"For the present, yes. The baby cannot get along without me." + +"And for the future?" + +"We will make a fair arrangement as to that. Give me a little time to +get myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in +New York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often +as you please. I have no desire to take her from you--I only want to +take myself from you." + +"Sylvia," he said, "have you realized all the unhappiness this course of +yours is going to bring to your people?" + +"Oh, don't begin that now!" she pleaded. + +"I know," he said, "how determined you are to punish me. But I should +think you would try to find some way to spare them." + +"Douglas," she replied, "I know exactly what you have been doing. I have +watched your change of character since you came here. You may be able +to make my people so unhappy that I must be unhappy also. You see how +deeply I love them, how I yield everything for love of them. But let me +make it clear, I will not yield this. It was for their sake I went into +this marriage, but I have come to see that it was wrong, and no power on +earth can induce me to stay in it. My mind is made up--I will not live +with a man I do not love. I will not even pretend to do it. Now do you +understand me, Douglas?" + +There was a silence, while she waited for some word from him. When none +came, she asked, "You will arrange to go to-morrow?" + +He answered calmly, "I see no reason why I, your husband, should permit +you to pursue this insane course. You propose to leave me; and the +reason you give is one that would, if it were valid, break up two-thirds +of the homes in the country. Your own family will stand by me in my +effort to prevent your ruin." + +"What do you expect to do?" she asked in a suppressed voice. + +"I have to assume that my wife is insane; and I shall look after her +till she comes to her senses." + +She sat watching him for a few moments, wondering at him. Then she said, +"You are willing to stay on here, day after day, pursuing me in the only +refuge I have. Well then, I shall not consider your feelings. I have a +work to do here--and I think that when I begin it, you will want to be +far away." + +"What do you mean?" he asked--and he looked at her as if she were really +a maniac. + +"You see my sister Celeste is about to marry. That was the wonderful +news she had to tell me at the depot. It happens that I have known Roger +Peyton all my life, and know he has the reputation of being one of the +'fastest' boys in the town." + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Just this, Douglas--I do not intend to leave my sister unprotected as +I was. I am going to tell her about Elaine. I am going to tell her +all that she needs to know. It is bound to mean arguments with the old +people, and in the end the whole family will be discussing the subject. +I feel sure you will not care to be here under such circumstances." + +"And may I ask when this begins?" he inquired, with intense bitterness +in his tone. + +"Right away," she said. "I have merely been waiting until you should +go." + +He said not a word, but she knew by the expression on his face that she +had carried her point at last. He turned and left the room; and that +was the last word she had with him, save for their formal parting in the +presence of the family. + +14. Roger Peyton was the son and heir of one of the oldest families +in Castleman County. I had heard of this family before--in a wonderful +story that Sylvia told of the burning of "Rose Briar," their stately +mansion, some years previously: how the neighbours had turned out to +extinguish the flames, and failing, had danced a last whirl in the +ball-room, while the fire roared in the stories overhead. The house had +since been rebuilt, more splendid than ever, and the prestige of +the family stood undiminished. One of the sons was an old "flame" of +Sylvia's, and another was married to one of the Chilton girls. As for +Celeste, she had been angling for Roger the past year or two, and she +stood now at the apex of happiness. + +Sylvia went to her father, to talk with him about the difficult subject +of venereal disease. The poor major had never expected to live to hear +such a discourse from a daughter of his; however, with the blind child +under his roof, he could not find words to stop her. "But, Sylvia," +he protested, "what reason have you to suspect such a thing of Roger +Peyton?" + +"I have the reason of his life. You know that he has the reputation of +being 'fast'; you know that he drinks, you know that I once refused to +speak to him because he danced with me when he was drunk." + +"My child, all the men you know have sowed their wild oats." + +"Papa, you must not take advantage of me in such a discussion. I don't +claim to know what sins may be included in the phrase 'wild oats.' Let +us speak frankly--can you say that you think it unlikely that Roger +Peyton has been unchaste?" + +The major hesitated and coughed; finally he said: "The boy drinks, +Sylvia; further than that I have no knowledge." + +"The medical books tell me that the use of alcohol tends to break down +self-control, and to make continence impossible. And if that be true, +you must admit that we have a right to ask assurances. What do you +suppose that Roger and his crowd are doing when they go roistering about +the streets at night? What do they do when they go off to Mardi Gras? +Or at college--you know that Cousin Clive had to get him out of trouble +several times. Go and ask Clive if Roger has ever been exposed to the +possibility of these diseases." + +"My child," said the major, "Clive would not feel he had the right to +tell me such things about his friend." + +"Not even when the friend wants to marry his cousin?" + +"But such questions are not asked, my daughter." + +"Papa, I have thought this matter out carefully, and I hava something +definite to propose to you. I have no idea of stopping with what Clive +Chilton may or may not see fit to tell about his chum. I want _you_ to +go to Roger." + +Major Castleman's face wore a blank stare. + +"If he's going to marry your daughter, you have the right to ask about +his past. What I want you to tell him is that you will get the name of a +reputable specialist in these diseases, and that before he can have your +daughter he must present you with a letter from this man, to the effect +that he is fit to marry." + +The poor major was all but speechless. "My child, who ever heard of such +a proposition?" + +"I don't know that any one ever did, papa. But it seems to me time they +should begin to hear of it; and I don't see who can have a better right +to take the first step than you and I, who have paid such a dreadful +price for our neglect." + +Sylvia had been prepared for opposition--the instinctive opposition +which men manifest to having this embarrassing subject dragged out into +the light of day. Even men who have been chaste themselves--good fathers +of families like the major--cannot be unaware of the complications +incidental to frightening their women-folk, and setting up an impossibly +high standard in sons-in-law. But Sylvia stood by her guns; at last she +brought her father to his knees by the threat that if he could not bring +himself to talk with Roger Peyton, she, Sylvia Castleman, would do it. + +15. The young suitor came by appointment the next day, and had a session +with the Major in his office. After he had gone, Sylvia went to her +father and found him pacing the floor, with an extinct cigar between his +lips, and several other ruined cigars lying on the hearth. + +"You asked him, papa?" + +"I did, Sylvia." + +"And what did he say?" + +"Why, daughter----" The major flung his cigar from him with desperate +energy. "It was most embarrassing!" he exclaimed--"most painful!" His +pale old face was crimson with blushes. + +"Go on, papa," said Sylvia, gentle but firm. + +"The poor boy--naturally, Sylvia, he could not but feel hurt that I +should think it necessary to ask such questions. Such things are not +done, my child. It seemed to him that I must look upon him as--well, as +much worse than other young fellows----" + +The old man stopped, and began to walk restlessly up and down. "Yes, +papa," said Sylvia. "What else?" + +"Well, he said it seemed to him that such a matter might have been left +to the honour of a man whom I was willing to think of as a son-in-law. +And you see, my child, what an embarrassing position I was in; I could +not give him any hint as to my reason for being anxious about these +matters--anything, you understand, that might be to the discredit of +your husband." + +"Go on, papa." + +"Well, I gave him a fatherly talking to about his way of life." + +"Did you ask him the definite question as to his health?" + +"No, Sylvia." + +"Did he tell you anything definite?" + +"No." + +"Then you didn't do what you had set out to do!" + +"Yes, I did. I told him that he must see a doctor." + +"You made quite clear to him what you wanted?" + +"Yes, I did--really, I did." + +"And what did he say?" She went to him and took his arm and led him to a +couch. "Come, papa, let us get to the facts. You must tell me." They sat +down, and the major sighed, lit a fresh cigar, rolled it about in his +fingers until it was ruined, and then flung it away. + +"Boys don't talk freely to older men," he said. "They really never do. +You may doubt this----" + +"What did he _say,_ papa?" + +"Why, he didn't know what to say. He didn't really say anything." And +here the major came to a complete halt. + +His daughter, after studying his face for a minute, remarked, "In plain +words, papa, you think he has something to hide, and he may not be able +to give you the evidence you asked?" + +The other was silent. + +"You fear that is the situation, but you are trying not to believe it." +As he still said nothing, Sylvia whispered, "Poor Celeste!" + +Suddenly she put her hands upon his shoulders, and looked into his eye. +"Papa, can't you see what that means--that Celeste ought to have been +told these things long ago?" + +"What good would that have done?" he asked, in bewilderment. + +"She could have known what kind of man she was choosing; and she might +be spared the dreadful unhappiness that is before her now." + +"Sylvia! Sylvia!" protested the other. "Surely such things cannot be +discussed with innocent young girls!" + +"So long as we refuse to do it, we are simply entering into a conspiracy +with the man of loose life, so that he may escape the worst penalty of +his evil-doing. Take the boys in our own set--why is it they feel safe +in running off to the big cities and 'sowing their wild oats'--even +sowing them in the obscure parts of their own town? Is it not because +they know that their sisters and girl friends are ignorant and +helpless; so that when they are ready to pick a wife, they will be at no +disadvantage? Here is Celeste; she knows that Roger has been 'wild,' but +no one has hinted to her what that means; she thinks of things that +are picturesque--that he's high-spirited, and brave, and free with his +money." + +"But, my daughter," protested the major, "such knowledge would have a +terrible effect upon young girls!" He rose and began to pace the floor +again. "Daughter, you are letting yourself run wild! The sweetness, the +virginal innocence of young and pure women--if you take that from +them, there'd be nothing left to keep men from falling to the level of +brutes!" + +"Papa," said Sylvia, "all that sounds well, but it has no meaning. I +have been robbed of my 'innocence,' and I know that it has not debased +me. It has only fitted me to deal with the realities of life. And it +will do the same for any girl who is taught by earnest and reverent +people. Now, as it is, we have to tell Celeste, but we tell her too +late." + +"But we _won't_ have to tell her!" cried the major. + +"Dear papa, please explain how we can avoid telling her." + +"I will inform her that she must give the young man up. She is a good +and dutiful daughter----" + +"Yes," replied Sylvia, "but suppose on this one occasion she were to +fail to be good and dutiful? Suppose the next day you learn that she had +run away and married Roger--what would you do about it then?" + +16. That evening Roger was to take his _fiancee_ to one of the young +people's dances. And there was Celeste, in a flaming red dress, with +a great bunch of flaming roses; she could wear these colours, with her +brilliant black hair and gorgeous complexion. Roger was fair, with a +frank, boyish face, and they made a pretty couple; but that evening +Roger did not come. Sylvia helped to dress her sister, and then watched +her wandering restlessly about the hall, while the hour came and went. +Later in the evening Major Castleman called up the Peyton home. The boy +was not there, and no one seemed to know where he was. + +Nor the next day did there come any explanation. At the Peytons it was +still declared that no one had heard from Roger, and for another day +the mystery continued, to Celeste's distress and mortification. At +last, from Clive Chilton, Sylvia managed to extract the truth. Roger +was drunk--crazy drunk, and had been taken off by some of the boys to be +straightened out. + +Of course this rumour soon got to the rest of the family and they had +to tell Celeste, because she was frantic with anxiety. There were grave +consultations among the Castleman ladies. It was a wanton affront to his +_fiancee_ that the boy had committed, and something must be done about +it quickly. Then came the news that Roger had escaped from his warders, +and got drunker than ever; he had been out at night, smashing the street +lamps, and it had required extreme self-control on the part of the town +police force to avoid complications. + +"Miss Margaret" went to her young daughter, and in a tear-flooded +scene informed her of the opinion of the family, that her self-respect +required the breaking of the engagement. Celeste went into hysterics. +She would _not_ have her happiness ruined for life! Roger was "wild," +but so were all the other boys--and he would atone for his recklessness. +She had the idea that if only she could get hold of him, she could +recall him to his senses; the more her mother was scandalised by this +proposal, the more frantically Celeste wept. She shut herself up in +her room, refusing to appear at meals, and spending her time pacing the +floor and wringing her hands. + +The family had been through all this with their eldest daughter several +years before, but they had not learned to handle it any better. The +whole household was in a state of distraction, and the conditions grew +worse day by day, as bulletins came in concerning the young man. He +seemed to have gone actually insane. He was not to be restrained even by +his own father, and if the unfortunate policemen could be believed, he +had violently attacked them. Apparently he was trying to break down the +unwritten law that the sons of the "best families" are not arrested. + +Poor Celeste, with pale, tear-drenched face, sent for her elder sister, +to make one last appeal. Could Sylvia not somehow get hold of Roger and +bring him to his senses? Could she not interview some of the other boys, +and find out what he meant by his conduct? + +So Sylvia went to her cousin Clive, and had a talk with him--assuredly +the most remarkable talk that that young man had ever had in his life. +She told him that she wanted to know the truth about Roger Peyton, +and after a cross-examination that would have made the reputation of a +criminal lawyer, she got what she wanted. All the young men in town, it +seemed, knew the true state of affairs, and were in a panic concerning +it; that Major Castleman had sent for Roger and informed him that +he could not marry his daughter, until he produced a certain kind of +medical certificate. No, he couldn't produce it! Was there a fellow in +town who could produce it? What was there for him to do but to get drunk +and stay drunk, until Celeste had cast him off? + +It was Clive's turn then to do some plain speaking. "Look here, Sylvia," +he said, "since you have made me talk about this----" + +"Yes, Clive?" + +"Do you know what people are saying--I mean the reason the Major made +this proposition to Roger?" + +She answered, in a quiet voice: "I suppose, Clive, it has something to +do with Elaine." + +"Yes, exactly!" exclaimed Clive. "They say--" But then he stopped. He +could not repeat it. "Surely you don't want that kind of talk, Sylvia?" + +"Naturally, Clive, I'd prefer to escape that kind of talk, but my fear +of it will not make me neglect the protection of my sister." + +"But Sylvia," cried the boy, "you don't understand about this! A woman +_can't_ understand about these things----" + +"You are mistaken, my dear cousin," said Sylvia--and her voice was firm +and decisive. "I _do_ understand." + +"All right!" cried Clive, with sudden exasperation. "But let me tell +you this--Celeste is going to have a hard time getting any other man to +propose to her!" + +"You mean, Clive, because so many of them are----?" + +"Yes, if you must put it that way," he said. + +There was a pause, then Sylvia went on: "Let us discuss the practical +problem, Clive. Don't you think it would have been better if Roger, +instead of going off and getting drunk, had set about getting himself +cured?" + +The other looked at her, with evident surprise. "You mean in that case +Celeste might marry him?" + +"You say the boys are all alike, Clive; and we can't turn our girls into +nuns. Why didn't some of you fellows point that out to Roger?" + +"The truth is," said Clive, "we tried to." There was a little more +cordiality in his manner, since Sylvia had shown such a unexpected +amount of intelligence. + +"Well?" she asked. "What then?" + +"Why, he wouldn't listen to anything." + +"You mean--because he was drunk?" + +"No, we had him nearly sober. But you see--" And Clive paused for +a moment, painfully embarrassed. "The truth is, Roger had been to a +doctor, and been told it might take him a year or two to get cured." + +"Clive!" she cried. "Clive! And you mean that in the face of that, he +proposed to go on and marry?" + +"Well, Sylvia, you see--" And the young man hesitated still longer. He +was crimson with embarrassment, and suddenly he blurted out: "The truth +is, the doctor told him to marry. That was the only way he'd ever get +cured." + +Sylvia was almost speechless. "Oh! Oh!" she cried, "I can't believe +you!" + +"That's what the doctors tell you, Sylvia. You don't understand--it's +just as I told you, a woman can't understand. It's a question of a man's +nature----" + +"But Clive--what about the wife and her health? Has the wife no rights +whatever?" + +"The truth is, Sylvia, people don't take this disease with such +desperate seriousness. You understand, it isn't the one that everybody +knows is dangerous. It doesn't do any real harm----" + +"Look at Elaine! Don't you call that real harm?" + +"Yes, but that doesn't happen often, and they say there are ways it can +be prevented. Anyway, fellows just can't help it! God knows we'd help it +if we could." + +Sylvia thought for a moment, and then came back to the immediate +question. "It's evident what Roger could do in this case. He is young, +and Celeste is still younger. They might wait a couple of years and +Roger might take care of himself, and in time it might be properly +arranged." + +But Clive did not seem too warm to the proposition, and Sylvia, who knew +Roger Peyton, was not long in making out the reason. "You mean you don't +think he has character enough to keep straight for a year or two?" + +"To tell you the honest truth, we talked it out with him, and he +wouldn't make any promises." + +To which Sylvia answered: "Very well, Clive--that settles it. You can +help me find some man for Celeste who loves her a little more than +that!" + +17. That afternoon came Aunt Nannie, the Bishop's wife, in shining +chestnut-coloured silk to match a pair of shining chestnut-coloured +horses. Other people, it appeared, had been making inquiries into Roger +Peyton's story, and other people besides Clive Chilton had been telling +the truth. Aunt Nannie gathered the ladies of the family in a hurried +conference, and Sylvia was summoned to appear before it--quite as in the +days of her affair with Frank Shirley. + +"Miss Margaret" and Aunt Varina were solemn and frightened, as of old; +and, as of old, Aunt Nannie did the talking. "Sylvia, do you know what +people are saying about you?" + +"Yes, Aunt Nannie" said Sylvia. + +"Oh, you do know?" + +"Yes, of course. And I knew in advance that they would say it." + +Something about the seraphic face of Sylvia, chastened by terrible +suffering, must have suggested to Mrs. Chilton the idea of caution. +"Have you thought of the humiliation this must inflict upon your +relatives?" + +"I have found, Aunt Nannie," said Sylvia, "that there are worse +afflictions than being talked about." + +"I am not sure," declared the other, "that anything could be worse than +to be the object of the kind of gossip that is now seething around +our family. It has been the tradition of our people to bear their +afflictions in silence." + +"In this case, Aunt Nannie, it is obvious that silence would have meant +more afflictions, many more. I have thought of my sister--and of all the +other girls in our family, who may be led to sacrifice by the ambitions +of their relatives." Sylvia paused a moment, so that her words might +have effect. + +Said the bishop's wife: "Sylvia, we cannot undertake to save the world +from the results of its sins. God has his own ways of punishing men." + +"Perhaps so, but surely God does not wish the punishment to fall upon +innocent young girls. For instance, Aunt Nannie, think of your own +daughters----" + +"My daughters!" broke out Mrs. Chilton. And then, mastering her +excitement: "At least, you will permit me to look after my own +children." + +"I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich +came into the room last night. Have you noticed anything?" + +"Yes--what of it?" + +"It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom." + +"Why should she not? I certainly consider him an eligible man." + +"And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton's set. +You know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, +and you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him! You have taken no +steps to find out about him--you have not warned your daughter--" + +Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation. "Warned my daughter! Who ever +heard of such a thing?" + +Said Sylvia, quietly: "I can believe that you never heard of it--but you +will hear soon. The other day I had a talk with Lucy May--" + +"Sylvia Castleman!" And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself +that she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic. "Sylvia," she said, in a +suppressed voice, "you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my +young daughter's mind--" + +"You have brought her up well," said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for +lack of words. "She did not want to listen to me. She said that young +girls ought not to know about such matters. But I pointed out Elaine, +and then she changed her mind--just as you will have to change yours in +the end, Aunt Nannie." + +Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving. Then suddenly +she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman. "Margaret, cannot you +stop this shocking business? I demand that the tongues of gossip shall +no longer clatter around the family of which I am a member! My husband +is the bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name +is of no importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and +authority of the church may have some weight----" + +"Aunt Nannie," interrupted Sylvia, "it will do no good to drag Uncle +Basil into this matter. I fear you will have to face the fact that from +this time on your authority in our family is to be diminished. You had +more to do than any other person with driving me into the marriage that +has wrecked my life, and now you want to go on and do the same thing for +my sister and for your own daughters--to marry them with no thought of +anything save the social position of the man. And in the same way you +are saving up your sons to find rich girls. You know that you kept +Clive from marrying a poor girl in this town a couple of years ago--and +meantime it seems to be nothing to you that he's going with men like +Roger Peyton and Tom Aldrich, learning all the vices the women in the +brothels have to teach him----" + +Poor "Miss Margaret" had several times made futile efforts to check +her daughter's outburst. Now she and Aunt Varina started up at the same +time. "Sylvia! Sylvia! You must not talk like that to your aunt!" + +And Sylvia turned and gazed at them with her sad eyes. "From now on," +she said, "that is the way I am going to talk. You are a lot of ignorant +children. I was one too, but now I know. And I say to you: Look at +Elaine! Look at my little one, and see what the worship of Mammon has +done to one of the daughters of your family!" + +18. After this, Sylvia had her people reduced to a state of terror. She +was an avenging angel, sent by the Lord to punish them for their sins. +How could one rebuke the unconventionality of an avenging angel? On the +other hand, of course, one could not help being in agony, and letting +the angel see it in one's face. Outside, there were the tongues of +gossip clattering, as Aunt Nannie had said; quite literally everyone +in Castleman County was talking about the blindness of Mrs. Douglas van +Tuiver's baby, and how, because of it, the mother was setting out on +a campaign to destroy the modesty of the State. The excitement, the +curiosity, the obscene delight of the world came rolling back into +Castleman Hall in great waves, that picked up the unfortunate inmates +and buffeted them about. + +Family consultations were restricted, because it was impossible for +the ladies of the family to talk to the gentlemen about these horrible +things; but the ladies talked to the ladies, and the gentlemen talked to +the gentlemen, and each came separately to Sylvia with their distress. +Poor, helpless "Miss Margaret" would come wringing her hands, and +looking as if she had buried all her children. "Sylvia! Sylvia! Do you +realise that you are being DISCUSSED?" That was the worst calamity +that could befal a woman in Castleman County--it summed up all +possible calamities that could befal her--to be "discussed." "They were +discussing you once when you wanted to marry Frank Shirley! And now--oh, +now they will never stop discussing you!" + +Then would come the dear major. He loved his eldest daughter as he loved +nothing else in the world, and he was a just man at heart. He could not +meet her arguments--yes, she was right, she was right. But then he would +go away, and the waves of scandal and shame would come rolling. + +"My child," he pleaded, "have you thought what this thing is doing to +your husband? Do you realise that while you talk about protecting +other people, you are putting upon Douglas a brand that will follow him +through life?" + +Uncle Mandeville came up from New Orleans to see his favourite niece; +and the wave smote him as he alighted from the train, and he became so +much excited that he went to the club and got drunk, and then could not +see his niece, but had to be carried off upstairs and given forcible +hypodermics. Cousin Clive told Sylvia about it afterwards--how Uncle +Mandeville refused to believe the truth, and swore that he would shoot +some of these fellows if they didn't stop talking about his niece. Said +Clive, with a grim laugh: "I told him: 'If Sylvia had her way, you'd +shoot a good part of the men in the town.'" He answered: "Well, by God, +I'll do it--it would serve the scoundrels right!" And he tried to get +out of bed and get his pants and his pistols--so that in the end it was +necessary to telephone for the major, and then for Barry Chilton and two +of his gigantic sons from their plantation. + +Sylvia had her way, and talked things out with the agonised Celeste. +And the next day came Aunt Varina, hardly able to contain herself. +"Oh, Sylvia, such a horrible thing! To hear such words coming from your +little sister's lips--like the toads and snakes in the fairy story! To +think of these ideas festering in a young girl's brain!" And then again: +"Sylvia, your sister declares she will never go to a party again! +You are teaching her to hate men! You will make her a STRONG-MINDED +woman!"--that was another phrase they had summing up a whole universe +of horrors. Sylvia could not recall a time when she had not heard that +warning. "Be careful, dear, when you express an opinion, always end +it with a question: 'Don't you think so?' or something like that, +otherwise, men may get the idea that you are 'STRONG-MINDED'!" + +Sylvia, in her girlhood, had heard vague hints and rumours which now she +was able to interpret in the light of her experience. In her courtship +days she had met a man who always wore gloves, even in the hottest +weather, and she had heard that this was because of some affliction +of the skin. Now, talking with the young matrons of her own set, she +learned that this man had married, and had since had to take to a +wheel-chair, while his wife had borne a child with a monstrous deformed +head, and had died of the ordeal and the shock. + +Oh, the stories that one uncovered--right in one's own town, among one's +own set--like foul sewers underneath the pavements! The succession of +deceased generations, of imbeciles, epileptics, paralytics! The innocent +children born to a life-time of torment; the women hiding their secret +agonies from the world! Sometimes women went all through life without +knowing the truth about themselves. There was poor Mrs. Valens, for +example, who reclined all day upon the gallery of one of the most +beautiful homes in the county, and showed her friends the palms of her +hands, all covered with callouses and scales, exclaiming: "What in +the world do you suppose can be the matter with me?" She had been a +beautiful woman, a "belle" of "Miss Margaret's" day; she had married a +man who was rich and handsome and witty--and a rake. Now he was drunk +all the time, and two of his children had died in hospital, and another +had arms that came out of joint, and had to be put in plaster of Paris +for months at a time. His wife, the one-time darling of society, would +lie on her couch and read the Book of Job until she knew it by heart. + +And could you believe it, when Sylvia came home, ablaze with excitement +over the story, she found that the only thing that her relatives +were able to see in it was the Book of Job! Under the burden of her +afflictions the woman had become devout; and how could anyone fail to +see in this the deep purposes of Providence revealed? "Verily," said +"Miss Margaret," "'whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.' We are told in +the Lord's Word that 'the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon +the children, even unto the third and fourth generations,' and do you +suppose the Lord would have told us that, if He had not known there +would be such children?" + +19. I cannot pass over this part of my story without bringing forward +Mrs. Armistead, the town cynic, who constituted herself one of Sylvia's +sources of information in the crisis. Mrs. Sallie Ann Armistead was +the mother of two boys with whom Sylvia, as a child, had insisted upon +playing, in spite of the protests of the family. "Wha' fo' you go wi' +dem Armistead chillun, Mi' Sylvia?" would cry Aunt Mandy, the cook. +"Doan' you know they granddaddy done pick cottin in de fiel' 'long o' +me?" But while her father was picking cotton, Sallie Ann had looked +after her complexion and her figure, and had married a rising young +merchant. Now he was the wealthy proprietor of a chain of "nigger +stores," and his wife was the possessor of the most dreaded tongue in +Castleman County. + +She was a person who, if she had been born a duchess, would have made +a reputation in history; the one woman in the county who had a mind +and was not afraid to have it known. She used all the tricks of a +duchess--lorgnettes, for example, with which she stared people into +a state of fright. She did not dare try anything like that on the +Castlemans, of course, but woe to the little people who crossed her +path! She had an eye that sought out every human weakness, and such a +wit that even her victims were fascinated. One of the legends about her +told how her dearest foe, a dashing young matron, had died, and all the +friends had gathered with their floral tributes. Sallie Ann went in to +review the remains, and when she came out a sentimental voice inquired: +"And how does our poor Ruth look?" + +"Oh," was the answer, "as old and grey as ever!" + +Now Mrs. Armistead stopped Sylvia in the street: "My dear, how goes the +eugenics campaign?" + +And while Sylvia gazed, dumbfounded, the other went on as if she were +chatting about the weather: "You can't realise what a stir you are +making in our little frog pond. Come, see me, and let me tell you the +gossip! Do you know you've enriched our vocabulary?" + +"I have made someone look up the meaning of eugenics, at least," +answered Sylvia--having got herself together in haste. + +"Oh, not only that, my dear. You have made a new medical term--the 'van +Tuiver disease.' Isn't that interesting?" + +For a moment Sylvia shrivelled before this flame from hell. But then, +being the only person who had ever been able to chain this devil, she +said: "Indeed? I hope that with so fashionable a name the disease does +not become an epidemic!" + +Mrs. Armistead gazed at her, and then, in a burst of enthusiasm, she +exclaimed: "Sylvia Castleman, I have always insisted that one of the +most interesting women in the world was spoiled by the taint of goodness +in you." + +She took Sylvia to her bosom, as it were. "Let us sit on the fence and +enjoy this spectacle! My dear, you can have no idea what an uproar you +are making! The young married women gather in their boudoirs and whisper +ghastly secrets to each other; some of them are sure they have it, and +some of them say they can trust their husbands--as if any man could be +trusted as far as you can throw a bull by the horns! Did you hear +about poor Mrs. Pattie Peyton, she has the measles, but she sent for a +specialist, and vowed she had something else--she had read about it, and +knew all the symptoms, and insisted on having elaborate blood-tests! And +little Mrs. Stanley Pendleton has left her husband, and everybody says +that's the reason. The men are simply shivering in their boots--they +steal into the doctor's offices by the back-doors, and a whole car-load +of the boys have been shipped off to Hot Springs to be boiled--" And +so on, while Mrs. Armistead revelled in the sensation of strolling down +Main Street with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + +Then Sylvia would go home, and get the newest reactions of the family +to these horrors. Aunt Nannie, it seemed, made the discovery that Basil, +junr., her fifth son, was carrying on an intrigue with a mulatto girl +in the town; and she forbade him to go to Castleman Hall, for fear lest +Sylvia should worm the secret out of him; also she shipped Lucy May off +to visit a friend, and came and tried to persuade Mrs. Chilton to do +the same with Peggy and Maria, lest Sylvia should somehow corrupt these +children. + +The bishop came, having been ordered to preach religion to his wayward +niece. Poor dear Uncle Basil--he had tried preaching religion to Sylvia +many years ago, and never could do it because he loved her so well that +with all his Seventeenth Century theology he could not deny her chance +of salvation. Now the first sight that met his eyes when he came to +see her was his little blind grand-niece. And also he had in his secret +heart the knowledge that he, a rich and gay young planter before he +became converted to Methodism, had played with the fire of vice, and +been badly burned. So Sylvia did not find him at all the Voice of +Authority, but just a poor, hen-pecked, unhappy husband of a tyrannous +Castleman woman. + +The next thing was that "Miss Margaret" took up the notion that a time +such as this was not one for Sylvia's husband to be away from her. +What if people were to say that they had separated? There were family +consultations, and in the midst of them there came word that van Tuiver +was called North upon business. When the family delegations came to +Sylvia, to insist that she go with him, the answer they got was that +if they could not let her stay quietly at home without asking her any +questions, she would go off to New York and live with a divorced woman +Socialist! + +"Of course, they gave up," she wrote me. "And half an hour ago poor dear +mamma came to my room and said: 'Sylvia, dear, we will let you do what +you want, but won't you please do one small favour for me?' I got ready +for trouble, and asked what she wanted. Her answer was: 'Won't you go +with Celeste to the Young Matrons' Cotillion tomorrow night, so that +people won't think there's anything the matter?'" + +20. Roger Peyton had gone off to Hot Springs, and Douglas van Tuiver was +in New York; so little by little the storms about Castleman Hall began +to abate in violence. Sylvia was absorbed with her baby, and beginning +to fit her life into that of her people. She found many ways in which +she could serve them--entertaining Uncle Mandeville to keep him sober; +checking the extravagrance of Celeste; nursing Castleman Lysle through +green apple convulsions. That was to be her life for the future, she +told herself, and she was making herself really happy in it--when +suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, came an event that swept her poor +little plans into chaos. + +It was an afternoon in March, the sun was shining brightly and the +Southern springtime was in full tide, and Sylvia had had the old family +carriage made ready, with two of the oldest and gentlest family horses, +and took the girls upon a shopping expedition to town. In the front seat +sat Celeste, driving, with two of her friends, and in the rear seat was +Sylvia, with Peggy and Maria. When an assemblage of allurements such as +this stopped on the streets of the town, the young men would come out +of the banks and the offices and gather round to chat. There would be +a halt before an ice-cream parlour, and a big tray of ices would be +brought out, and the girls would sit in the carriage and eat, and the +boys would stand on the curb and eat--undismayed by the fact that +they had welcomed half a dozen such parties during the afternoon. The +statistics proved that this was a thriving town, with rapidly increasing +business, but there was never so much business as to interfere with +gallantries like these. + +Sylvia enjoyed the scene; it took her back to happy days, before black +care had taken his seat behind her. She sat in a kind of dream, only +half hearing the merriment of the young people, and only half tasting +her ice. How she loved this old town, with its streets deep in black +spring mud, its mud-plastered "buck-boards" and saddle horses hitched +at every telegraph pole! Its banks and stores and law offices seemed +shabbier after one had made the "grand tour," but they were none the +less dear to her for that. She would spend the rest of her days in +Castleman County, and the sunshine and peace would gradually enfold her. + +Such were her thoughts when the unforeseen event befel. A man on +horse-back rode down a side-street, crossing Main Street a little way in +front of her; a man dressed in khaki, with a khaki riding hat pulled low +over his face. He rode rapidly--appearing and vanishing, so that Sylvia +scarcely saw him--really did not see him with her conscious mind at all. +Her thoughts were still busy with dreams, and the clatter of boys and +girls; but deep within her had begun a tumult--a trembling, a pounding +of the heart, a clamouring under the floors of her consciousness. + +And slowly this excitement mounted. What was the matter, what had +happened? A man had ridden by, but why should a man--. Surely it could +not have been--no. There were hundreds of men in Castleman County who +wore khaki and rode horse-back, and had sturdy, thick-set figures! But +then, how could she make a mistake? How could her instinct have betrayed +her so? It was that same view of him as he sat on a horse that had first +thrilled her during the hunting party years ago! + +He had gone West, and had said that he would never return. He had not +been heard from in years. What an amazing thing, that a mere glimpse of +a man who looked and dressed and rode like him should be able to set her +whole being into such a panic! How futile became her dreams of peace! + +She heard the sound of a vehicle close beside her carriage, and turned +and found herself looking into the sharp eyes of Mrs. Armistead. It +happened that Sylvia was on the side away from the curb, and there was +no one talking to her; so Mrs. Armistead ran her electric alongside, and +had the stirring occasion to herself. Sylvia looked into her face, so +full of malice, and knew two things in a flash: First, it really had +been Frank Shirley riding by; and second, Mrs. Armistead had seen him! + +"Another candidate for your eugenics class!" said the lady. + +Sylvia glanced at the young people and made sure they were paying no +attention. She might have made some remark that would have brought +them into the conversation, and delivered her from the torments of this +devil. But no, she had never quailed from Mrs. Armistead in her life, +and she would not now give her the satisfaction of driving off to tell +the town that Sylvia van Tuiver had seen Frank Shirley, and had been +overcome by it, and had taken refuge behind the skirts of her little +sisters! + +"You can see I have my carriage full of pupils" she said, smilingly. + +"How happy it must make you, Sylvia--coming home and meeting all your +old friends! It must set you trembling with ecstasy--angels singing in +the sky above you--little golden bells ringing all over you!" + +Sylvia recognised these phrases. They were part of an effort she had +made to describe the raptures of young love to her bosom friend, Harriet +Atkinson. And so Harriet had passed them on to the town! And they had +been cherished all these years. + +She could not afford to recognise these illegitimate children of +romance. "Mrs. Armistead," she said, "I had no idea you had so much +poetry in you!" + +"I am simply improvising, my dear--upon the colour in your cheeks at +present!" + +There was no way save to be bold. "You couldn't expect me not to be +excited, Mrs. Armistead. You see, I had no idea he had come back from +the West." + +"They say he left a wife there." remarked the lady, innocently. + +"Ah!" said Sylvia. "Then he will not be staying long, presumably." + +There was a pause; all at once Mrs. Armistead's voice became gentle +and sympathetic. "Sylvia," she said, "don't imagine that I fail to +appreciate what is going on in your heart. I know a true romance when I +see one. If only you could have known in those days what you know now, +there might have been one beautiful love story that did not end as a +tragedy." + +You would have thought the lady's better self had suddenly been touched. +But Sylvia knew her; too many times she had seen this huntress trying to +lure a victim out of his refuge. + +"Yes, Mrs. Armistead," she said, gently. "But I have the consolation at +least of being a martyr to science." + +"In what way?" + +"Have you forgotten the new medical term that I have given to the +world?" + +And Mrs. Armistead looked at her for a moment aghast. "My God, Sylvia!" +she whispered; and then--an honest tribute: "You certainly can take care +of yourself!" + +"Yes," said Sylvia. "Tell that to my other friends in town." And so, at +last, Mrs. Armistead started her machine, and this battle of hell-cats +came to an end. + +21. Sylvia rode home in a daze, answering without hearing the prattle of +the children. She was appalled at the emotions that possessed her--that +the sight of Frank Shirley riding down the street could have affected +her so! She forgot Mrs. Armistead, she forgot the whole world, in her +dismay over her own state of mind. Having dismissed Frank from her life +and her thoughts forever, it seemed to her preposterous that she should +be at the mercy of such an excitement. + +She found herself wondering about her family. Did they know that Frank +Shirley had returned? Would they have failed to mention it to her? For +a moment she told herself it would not have occurred to them she could +have any interest in the subject. But no--they were not so _naive_--the +Castleman women--as their sense of propriety made them pretend to be! +But how stupid of them not to give her warning! Suppose she had happened +to meet Frank face to face, and in the presence of others! She must +certainly have betrayed her excitement; and just at this time, when the +world had the Castleman family under the microscope! + +She told herself that she would avoid such difficulty in future; she +would stay at home until Frank had gone away. If he had a wife in +the West, presumably he had merely come for a visit to his mother and +sisters. And then Sylvia found herself in an argument with herself. What +possible difference could it make that Frank Shirley had a wife? So long +as she, Sylvia, had a husband, what else mattered? Yet she could not +deny it--it brought her a separate and additional pang that Frank +Shirley should have married. What sort of wife could he have found--he, +a stranger in the far West? And why had he not brought his wife home to +his people? + +When she stepped out of the carriage, it was with her mind made up that +she would stay at home until all danger was past. But the next afternoon +a neighbour called up to ask Sylvia and Celeste to come and play cards +in the evening. It was not a party, Mrs. Witherspoon explained to "Miss +Margaret," who answered the 'phone; just a few friends and a good time, +and she did so hope that Sylvia was not going to refuse. The mere +hint of the fear that Sylvia might refuse was enough to excite Mrs. +Castleman. Why should Sylvia refuse? So she accepted the invitation, and +then came to plead with her daughter--for Celeste's sake, and for the +sake of all her family, so that the world might see that she was not +crushed by misfortune! + +There were reasons why the invitation was a difficult one to decline. +Mrs. Virginia Witherspoon was the daughter of a Confederate general +whose name you read in every history-book; and she had a famous old +home in the country which was falling about her ears--her husband being +seldom sober enough to know what was happening. She had also three +blossoming daughters, whom she must manage to get out of the home before +the plastering of the drawing-room fell upon the heads of their suitors; +so that the ardour of her husband-hunting was one of the jokes of the +State. Naturally, under such circumstances, the Witherspoons had to +be treated with consideration by the Castlemans. One might snub rich +Yankees, and chasten the suddenly-prosperous; but a family with an +ancient house in ruins, and with faded uniforms and battle-scarred +sabres in the cedar-chests in its attic--such a family can with +difficulty overdraw its social bank account. + +Dolly Witherspoon, the oldest daughter, had been Sylvia's rival for +the palm as the most beautiful girl in Castleman County. And Sylvia +had triumphed, and Dolly had failed. So, in her secret heart she +hated Sylvia, and the mother hated her; and yet--such was the social +game--they had to invite Sylvia and her sister to their card-parties, +and Sylvia and her sister had to go. They had to go and be the most +striking figures there: Celeste, slim and pale from sorrow, virginal, in +clinging white chiffon; and Sylvia, regal and splendid, shimmering like +a mermaid in a gown of emerald green. + +The mermaid imagined that she noticed a slight agitation underneath +the cordiality of her hostess. The next person to greet her was Mrs. +Armistead; and Sylvia was sure that she did not imagine the suppressed +excitement in that lady's manner. But even while she was speculating +and suspecting, she was led toward the drawing-room. It was late, her +hostess explained; the other guests were waiting, so if they did not +mind, the play would start at once. Celeste was to sit at that table +over there, with Mr. Witherspoon's crippled brother, and old Mr. +Perkins, who was deaf; and Sylvia was to come this way--the table in the +corner. Sylvia moved toward it, and Dolly Witherspoon and her sister, +Emma, greeted her cordially, and then stepped out of the way to let her +to her seat; and Sylvia gave one glance--and found herself face to face +with Frank Shirley! + +22. Frank's face was scarlet; and Sylvia had a moment of blind terror, +when she wanted to turn and fly. But there about her was the circle +of her enemies; a whole roomful of people, breathless with curiosity, +drinking in with eyes and ears every hint of distress that she might +give. And the next morning the whole town would, in imagination, attend +the scene! + +"Good-evening, Julia," said Sylvia, to Mrs. Witherspoon's youngest +daughter, the other lady at the table. "Good-evening, Malcolm"--to +Malcolm McCallum, an old "beau" of hers. And then, taking the seat which +Malcolm sprang to move out for her, "How do you do, Frank?" + +Frank's eyes had fallen to his lap. "How do you do?" he murmured. The +sound of his voice, low and trembling, full of pain, was like the +sound of some old funeral bell to Sylvia; it sent the blood leaping in +torrents to her forehead. Oh, horrible, horrible! + +For a moment her eyes fell like his, and she shuddered, and was beaten. +But there was the roomful of people, watching; there was Mrs. Armistead, +there were the Witherspoon women gloating. She forced a tortured smile +to her lips, and asked, "What are we playing?" + +"Oh, didn't you know that?" said Julia. "Progressive whist." + +"Thank-you," said Sylvia. "When do we begin?" And she looked +about--anywhere but at Frank Shirley, with his face grown so old in four +years. + +No one said anything, no one made a move. Was everybody in the room +conspiring to break her down? "I thought we were late," she said, +desperately; and then, with another effort--"Shall I cut?" she asked, of +Julia. + +"If you please," said the girl; but she did not make a motion to pass +the cards. Her manner seemed to say, You may cut all night, but it won't +help you to rob me of this satisfaction. + +Sylvia made a still more determined effort. If the game was to be +postponed indefinitely, so that people might watch her and Frank--well, +she would have to find something to talk about. + +"It is a surprise to see you again, Frank Shirley!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes," he said. His voice was a mumble, and he did not lift his eyes. + +"You have been in the West, I understand?" + +"Yes," again; but still he did not lift his eyes. + +Sylvia managed to lift hers as far as his cravat; and she saw in it +an old piece of imitation jewelry which she had picked up once on the +street, and had handed to him in jest. He had worn it all these years! +He had not thrown it away--not even when she had thrown him away! + +Again came a surge of emotion; and out of the mist she looked about her +and saw the faces of tormenting demons, leering. "Well," she demanded, +"are we going to play?" + +"We were waiting for you to cut," said Julia, graciously; and Sylvia's +fury helped to restore her self-posession. She cut the cards; and fate +was kind, sparing both her and Frank the task of dealing. + +But then a new difficulty arose. Julia dealt, and thirteen cards lay +in front of Frank Shirley; but he did not seem to know that he ought +to pick them up. And when the opposing lady called him to time, in +what seemed an unnecessarily penetrating voice, he found that he was +physically unable to get the cards from the table. And when with his +fumbling efforts he got them into a bunch, he could not straighten them +out--to say nothing of the labour of sorting them according to suit, +which all whist-players know to be an indispensable preliminary to the +game. When the opposing lady prodded him again, Frank's face changed +from vivid scarlet to a dark and alarming purple. + +Miss Julia led the tray of clubs; and Frank, whose turn came next, +spilled three cards upon the table, and finally selected from them the +king of hearts to play--hearts being trumps. "But you have a club there, +Mr. Shirley," said his opponent; something that was pardonable, inasmuch +as the nine of clubs lay face up where he had shoved it aside. + +"Oh--I beg pardon," he stammered, and took back his king, and reached +into his hand and pulled out the six of clubs, and a diamond with it. + +It was evident that this could not go on. Sylvia might be equal to the +emergency, but Frank was not. He was too much of a human being and too +little of a social automaton. Something must be done. + +"Don't they play whist out West, Mr. Shirley," asked Julia, still +smiling benevolently. + +And Sylvia lowered her cards. "Surely, my dear, you must understand," +she said, gently. "Mr. Shirley is too much embarrassed to think about +cards." + +"Oh!" said the other, taken aback. (_L'audace, touljours l'audace!_ runs +the formula!) + +"You see," continued Sylvia, "this is the first time that Frank has seen +me in more than three years. And when two people have been as much in +love as he and I were, they are naturally disturbed when they meet, and +cannot put their minds upon a game of cards." + +Julia was speechless. And Sylvia let her glance wander casually about +the room. She saw her hostess and her daughters standing watching; and +near the wall at the other side of the room stood the head-devil, who +had planned this torment. + +"Mrs. Armistead," Sylvia called, "aren't you going to play to-night?" Of +course everybody in the room heard this; and after it, anyone could have +heard a pin drop. + +"I'm to keep score," said Mrs. Armistead. + +"But it doesn't need four to keep score," objected Sylvia--and looked at +the three Witherspoon ladies. + +"Dolly and Emma are staying out," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "Two of our +guests did not come." + +"Well," Sylvia exclaimed, "that just makes it right! Please let them +take the place of Mr. Shirley and myself. You see, we haven't seen each +other for three or four years, and it's hard for us to get interested +into a game of cards." + +The whole room caught its breath at once; and here and there one heard +a little squeak of hysteria, cut short by some one who was not sure +whether it was a joke or a scandal. "Why--Sylvia!" stammered Mrs. +Witherspoon, completely staggered. + +Then Sylvia perceived that she was mistress of the scene. There came the +old rapture of conquest, that made her social genius. "We have so much +that we want to talk about," she said, in her most winning voice. "Let +Dolly and Emma take our places, and we will sit on the sofa in the other +room and chat. You and Mrs. Armistead come and chaperone us. Won't you +do that, please?" + +"Why--why----" gasped the bewildered lady. + +"I'm sure that you will both be interested to hear what we have to say +to each other; and you can tell everybody about it afterwards--and that +will be so much better than having the card-game delayed any more." + +And with this side-swipe Sylvia arose. She stood and waited, to make +sure that her ex-fiance was not too paralysed to follow. She led him out +through the tangle of card-tables; and in the door-way she stopped and +waited for Mrs. Armistead and Mrs. Witherspoon, and literally forced +these two ladies to come with her out of the room. + +23. Do you care to hear the details of the punishment which Sylvia +administered to the two conspirators? She took them to the sofa, and +made Frank draw up chairs for them, and when she had got comfortably +seated, she proceeded to talk to Frank just as gently and sincerely and +touchingly as she would have talked if there had been nobody present. +She asked about all that had befallen him, and when she discovered that +he was still not able to chat, she told him about herself, about her +baby, who was beautiful and dear, even if she was blind, and about all +the interesting things she had seen in Europe. When presently the old +ladies showed signs of growing restless, she put hand cuffs on them and +chained them to their chairs. + +"You see," she said, "it would never do for Mr. Shirley and myself to +talk without a chaperon. You got me into this situation, you know, and +papa and mamma would never forgive you." + +"You are mistaken, Sylvia!" cried Mrs. Witherspoon. "Mr. Shirley so +seldom goes out, and he had said he didn't think he would come!" + +"I am willing to accept that explanation," said Sylvia, politely, "but +you must help me out now that the embarrassing accident has happened." + +Nor did it avail Mrs. Witherspoon to plead her guests and their score. +"You may be sure they don't care about the score," said Sylvia. "They'd +much prefer you stayed here, so that you can tell them how Frank and I +behaved." + +And then, while Mrs. Witherspoon was getting herself together, Sylvia +turned upon the other conspirator. "We will now hold one of my eugenics +classes," she said, and added, to Frank, "Mrs. Armistead told me that +you wanted to join my class." + +"I don't understand," replied Frank, at a loss. + +"I will explain," said Sylvia. "It is not a very refined joke they have +in the town. Mrs. Armistead meant to say that she credits a disgraceful +story that was circulated about you when we were engaged, and which my +people made use of to make me break our engagement. I am glad to have +a chance to tell you that I have investigated and satisfied myself +that the story was not true. I want to apologise to you for ever having +believed it; and I am sure that Mrs. Armistead may be glad of this +opportunity to apologise for having said that she believed it." + +"I never said that I believed it!" cried Sallie Ann. + +"No, you didn't, Mrs. Armistead--you would not be so crude as to say +it directly. You merely dropped a hint, which would lead everybody to +understand that you believed it." + +Sylvia paused, just long enough to let the wicked lady suffer, but not +long enough to let her find a reply. "When you tell your friends about +this scene," she continued, "please make clear that I did not drop hints +about anything, but said exactly what I meant--that the story is false, +so far as it implies any evil done by Mr. Shirley, and that I am deeply +ashamed of myself for having ever believed it. It is all in the past +now, of course--we are both of us married, and we shall probably never +meet again. But it will be a help to us in future to have had this +little talk--will it not, Frank?" + +There was a pause, while Sallie Ann Armistead recovered from her +dismay, and got back a little of her fighting power. Suddenly she rose: +"Virginia," she said, firmly, "you are neglecting your guests." + +"I don't think you ought to go until Frank has got himself together," +said Sylvia. "Frank, can you sort your cards now?" + +"Virginia!" commanded Sallie Ann, imperiously. "Come!" + +Mrs. Witherspoon rose, and so did Sylvia. "We can't stay here alone," +said she. "Frank, will you take Mrs. Witherspoon in?" And she gently +but firmly took Mrs. Armistead's arm, and so they marched back into the +drawing-room. + +Dolly and Emma had progressed to separate tables, it developed, so that +the ordeal of Frank and Sylvia was over. Through the remainder of the +evening Sylvia chatted and played, and later partook of refreshments +with Malcolm McCallum, and mildly teased that inconsolable bachelor, +quite as in the old days. Now and then she stole a glance at Frank +Shirley, and saw that he was holding up his end; but he kept away from +her, and she never even caught his eye. + +At last the company broke up, and Sylvia thanked her hostess for a most +enjoyable evening. She stepped into the motor with Celeste, and sat with +compressed lips, answering in monosyllables her "little sister's" flood +of excited questions--"Oh, Sylvia, didn't you feel perfectly _terrible?_ +Oh, sister, I felt _thrills_ running up and down my back! Sister, what +_did_ you say to him? Sister, do you know old Mr. Perkins kept leaning +over me and asking what was happening; and how could I shout into his +deaf ear that everybody was stopping to hear what you were saying to +Frank Shirley?" + +At the end of the ride, there was Aunt Varina waiting up as usual--to +renew her own youth in the story of the evening, what this person had +worn and what that person had said. But Sylvia left her sister to tell +the story, and fled to her room and locked the door, and flung herself +upon the bed and gave way to a torrent of weeping. + +Half an hour later Celeste went up, and finding that the door between +her room and Sylvia's was unlocked, opened it softly, and stood +listening. Finally she stole to her sister's side and put her arm about +her. "Never mind, sister dear," she whispered, solemnly, "I know how it +is! We women all have to suffer!" + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5807.txt or 5807.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/0/5807/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/5807.zip b/5807.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..008ecb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/5807.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65febe9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5807 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5807) diff --git a/old/5807-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/5807-h.htm.2021-01-27 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..704c548 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5807-h.htm.2021-01-27 @@ -0,0 +1,9998 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia's Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sylvia's Marriage + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5807] +This file was first posted on September 4, 2002 +Last Updated: October 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE + </h1> + <h3> + A NOVEL + </h3> + <h2> + By Upton Sinclair + </h2> + <h4> + Author Of “The Jungle,” Etc., Etc. <br /> <br /> London + </h4> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <b>SOME PRESS NOTICES</b> + </p> + <p> + “The importance of the theme cannot be doubted, and no one hitherto + ignorant of the ravages of the evil and therefore, by implication, in need + of being convinced can refuse general agreement with Mr. Sinclair upon the + question as he argues it. The character that matters most is very much + alive and most entertaining.”—<i>The Times.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Very severe and courageous. It would, indeed, be difficult to deny or + extenuate the appalling truth of Mr. Sinclair’s indictment.”— <i>The + Nation.</i> + </p> + <p> + “There is not a man nor a grown woman who would not be better for reading + Sylvia’s Marriage.”—<i>The Globe</i> + </p> + <p> + “Those who found Sylvia charming on her first appearance will find her as + beautiful and fascinating as ever.”—<i>The Pall Mall</i>. + </p> + <p> + “A novel that frankly is devoted to the illustration of the dangers that + society runs through the marriage of unsound men with unsuspecting women. + The time has gone by when any objection was likely to be taken to a + perfectly clean discussion of a nasty subject.”—<i>T.P.‘s Weekly.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I. SYLVIA AS WIFE + </h2> + <p> + 1. I am telling the story of Sylvia Castleman. I should prefer to tell it + without mention of myself; but it was written in the book of fate that I + should be a decisive factor in her life, and so her story pre-supposes + mine. I imagine the impatience of a reader, who is promised a heroine out + of a romantic and picturesque “society” world, and finds himself beginning + with the autobiography of a farmer’s wife on a solitary homestead in + Manitoba. But then I remember that Sylvia found me interesting. Putting + myself in her place, remembering her eager questions and her exclamations, + I am able to see myself as a heroine of fiction. + </p> + <p> + I was to Sylvia a new and miraculous thing, a self-made woman. I must have + been the first “common” person she had ever known intimately. She had seen + us afar off, and wondered vaguely about us, consoling herself with the + reflection that we probably did not know enough to be unhappy over our sad + lot in life. But here I was, actually a soul like herself; and it happened + that I knew more than she did, and of things she desperately needed to + know. So all the luxury, power and prestige that had been given to Sylvia + Castleman seemed as nothing beside Mary Abbott, with her modern attitude + and her common-sense. + </p> + <p> + My girlhood was spent upon a farm in Iowa. My father had eight children, + and he drank. Sometimes he struck me; and so it came about that at the age + of seventeen I ran away with a boy of twenty who worked upon a neighbour’s + farm. I wanted a home of my own, and Tom had some money saved up. We + journeyed to Manitoba, and took out a homestead, where I spent the next + twenty years of my life in a hand-to-hand struggle with Nature which + seemed simply incredible to Sylvia when I told her of it. + </p> + <p> + The man I married turned out to be a petty tyrant. In the first five years + of our life he succeeded in killing the love I had for him; but meantime I + had borne him three children, and there was nothing to do but make the + best of my bargain. I became to outward view a beaten drudge; yet it was + the truth that never for an hour did I give up. When I lost what would + have been my fourth child, and the doctor told me that I could never have + another, I took this for my charter of freedom, and made up my mind to my + course; I would raise the children I had, and grow up with them, and move + out into life when they did. + </p> + <p> + This was when I was working eighteen hours a day, more than half of it by + lamp-light, in the darkness of our Northern winters. When the accident + came, I had been doing the cooking for half a dozen men, who were getting + in the wheat upon which our future depended. I fell in my tracks, and lost + my child; yet I sat still and white while the men ate supper, and + afterwards I washed up the dishes. Such was my life in those days; and I + can see before me the face of horror with which Sylvia listened to the + story. But these things are common in the experience of women who live + upon pioneer farms, and toil as the slave-woman has toiled since + civilization began. + </p> + <p> + We won out, and my husband made money. I centred my energies upon getting + school-time for my children; and because I had resolved that they should + not grow ahead of me, I sat up at night, and studied their books. When the + oldest boy was ready for high-school, we moved to a town, where my husband + had bought a granary business. By that time I had become a physical wreck, + with a list of ailments too painful to describe. But I still had my + craving for knowledge, and my illness was my salvation, in a way—it + got me a hired girl, and time to patronize the free library. + </p> + <p> + I had never had any sort of superstition or prejudice, and when I got into + the world of books, I began quickly to find my way. I travelled into + by-paths, of course; I got Christian Science badly, and New Thought in a + mild attack. I still have in my mind what the sober reader would doubtless + consider queer kinks; for instance, I still practice “mental healing,” in + a form, and I don’t always tell my secret thoughts about Theosophy and + Spiritualism. But almost at once I worked myself out of the religion I had + been taught, and away from my husband’s politics, and the drugs of my + doctors. One of the first subjects I read about was health; I came upon a + book on fasting, and went away upon a visit and tried it, and came back + home a new woman, with a new life before me. + </p> + <p> + In all of these matters my husband fought me at every step. He wished to + rule, not merely my body, but my mind, and it seemed as if every new thing + that I learned was an additional affront to him. I don’t think I was + rendered disagreeable by my culture; my only obstinacy was in maintaining + the right of the children to do their own thinking. But during this time + my husband was making money, and filling his life with that. He remained + in his every idea the money-man, an active and bitter leader of the forces + of greed in our community; and when my studies took me to the inevitable + end, and I joined the local of the Socialist party in our town, it was to + him like a blow in the face. He never got over it, and I think that if the + children had not been on my side, he would have claimed the Englishman’s + privilege of beating me with a stick not thicker than his thumb. As it + was, he retired into a sullen hypochondria, which was so pitiful that in + the end I came to regard him as not responsible. + </p> + <p> + I went to a college town with my three children, and when they were + graduated, having meantime made sure that I could never do anything but + torment my husband, I set about getting a divorce. I had helped to lay the + foundation of his fortune, cementing it with my blood, I might say, and I + could fairly have laid claim to half what he had brought from the farm; + but my horror of the parasitic woman had come to be such that rather than + even seem to be one, I gave up everything, and went out into the world at + the age of forty-five to earn my own living. My children soon married, and + I would not be a burden to them; so I came East for a while, and settled + down quite unexpectedly into a place as a field-worker for a child-labour + committee. + </p> + <p> + You may think that a woman so situated would not have been apt to meet + Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, <i>née</i> Castleman, and to be chosen for her + bosom friend; but that would only be because you do not know the modern + world. We have managed to get upon the consciences of the rich, and they + invite us to attend their tea-parties and disturb their peace of mind. And + then, too, I had a peculiar hold upon Sylvia; when I met her I possessed + the key to the great mystery of her life. How that had come about is a + story in itself, the thing I have next to tell. + </p> + <p> + 2. It happened that my arrival in New York from the far West coincided + with Sylvia’s from the far South; and that both fell at a time when there + were no wars or earthquakes or football games to compete for the front + page of the newspapers. So everybody was talking about the prospective + wedding. The fact that the Southern belle had caught the biggest prize + among the city’s young millionaires was enough to establish precedence + with the city’s subservient newspapers, which had proceeded to robe the + grave and punctilious figure of the bridegroom in the garments of King + Cophetua. The fact that the bride’s father was the richest man in his own + section did not interfere with this—for how could metropolitan + editors be expected to have heard of the glories of Castleman Hall, or to + imagine that there existed a section of America so self-absorbed that its + local favourite would not feel herself exalted in becoming Mrs. Douglas + van Tuiver? + </p> + <p> + What the editors knew about Castleman Hall was that they wired for + pictures, and a man was sent from the nearest city to “snap” this unknown + beauty; whereupon her father chased the presumptuous photographer and + smashed his camera with a cane. So, of course, when Sylvia stepped out of + the train in New York, there was a whole battery of cameras awaiting her, + and all the city beheld her image the next day. + </p> + <p> + The beginning of my interest in this “belle” from far South was when I + picked up the paper at my breakfast table, and found her gazing at me, + with the wide-open, innocent eyes of a child; a child who had come from + some fairer, more gracious world, and brought the memory of it with her, + trailing her clouds of glory. She had stepped from the train into the + confusion of the roaring city, and she stood, startled and frightened, + yet, I thought, having no more real idea of its wickedness and horror than + a babe in arms. I read her soul in that heavenly countenance, and sat + looking at it, enraptured, dumb. There must have been thousands, even in + that metropolis of Mammon, who loved her from that picture, and whispered + a prayer for her happiness. + </p> + <p> + I can hear her laugh as I write this. For she would have it that I was + only one more of her infatuated lovers, and that her clouds of glory were + purely stage illusion. She knew exactly what she was doing with those + wide-open, innocent eyes! Had not old Lady Dee, most cynical of + worldlings, taught her how to use them when she was a child in pig-tails? + To be sure she had been scared when she stepped off the train, and strange + men had shoved cameras under her nose. It was almost as bad as being + assassinated! But as to her heavenly soul—alas, for the blindness of + men, and of sentimental old women, who could believe in a modern “society” + girl! + </p> + <p> + I had supposed that I was an emancipated woman when I came to New York. + But one who has renounced the world, the flesh and the devil, knowing them + only from pictures in magazines and Sunday supplements; such a one may + find that he has still some need of fasting and praying. The particular + temptation which overcame me was this picture of the bride-to-be. I wanted + to see her, and I went and stood for hours in a crowd of curious women, + and saw the wedding party enter the great Fifth Avenue Church, and + discovered that my Sylvia’s hair was golden, and her eyes a strange and + wonderful red-brown. And this was the moment that fate had chosen to throw + Claire Lepage into my arms, and give me the key to the future of Sylvia’s + life. + </p> + <p> + 3. I am uncertain how much I should tell about Claire Lepage. It is a + story which is popular in a certain sort of novel, but I have no wish for + that easy success. Towards Claire herself I had no trace of the + conventional attitude, whether of contempt or of curiosity. She was to me + the product of a social system, of the great New Nineveh which I was + investigating. And later on, when I knew her, she was a weak sister whom I + tried to help. + </p> + <p> + It happened that I knew much more about such matters than the average + woman—owing to a tragedy in my life. When I was about twenty-five + years old, my brother-in-law had moved his family to our part of the + world, and one of his boys had become very dear to me. This boy later on + had got into trouble, and rather than tell anyone about it, had shot + himself. So my eyes had been opened to things that are usually hidden from + my sex; for the sake of my own sons, I had set out to study the + underground ways of the male creature. I developed the curious custom of + digging out every man I met, and making him lay bare his inmost life to + me; so you may understand that it was no ordinary pair of woman’s arms + into which Claire Lepage was thrown. + </p> + <p> + At first I attributed her vices to her environment, but soon I realized + that this was a mistake; the women of her world do not as a rule go to + pieces. Many of them I met were free and independent women, one or two of + them intellectual and worth knowing. For the most part such women marry + well, in the worldly sense, and live as contented lives as the average + lady who secures her life-contract at the outset. If you had met Claire at + an earlier period of her career, and if she had been concerned to impress + you, you might have thought her a charming hostess. She had come of good + family, and been educated in a convent—much better educated than + many society girls in America. She spoke English as well as she did + French, and she had read some poetry, and could use the language of + idealism whenever necessary. She had even a certain religious streak, and + could voice the most generous sentiments, and really believe that she + believed them. So it might have been some time before you discovered the + springs of her weakness. + </p> + <p> + In the beginning I blamed van Tuiver; but in the end I concluded that for + most of her troubles she had herself to thank—or perhaps the + ancestors who had begotten her. She could talk more nobly and act more + abjectly than any other woman I have ever known. She wanted pleasant + sensations, and she expected life to furnish them continuously. + Instinctively she studied the psychology of the person she was dealing + with, and chose a reason which would impress that person. + </p> + <p> + At this time, you understand, I knew nothing about Sylvia Castleman or her + fiancé, except what the public knew. But now I got an inside view—and + what a view! I had read some reference to Douglas van Tuiver’s Harvard + career: how he had met the peerless Southern beauty, and had given up + college and pursued her to her home. I had pictured the wooing in the rosy + lights of romance, with all the glamour of worldly greatness. But now, + suddenly, what a glimpse into the soul of the princely lover! “He had a + good scare, let me tell you,” said Claire. “He never knew what I was going + to do from one minute to the next.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he see you in the crowd before the church door?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “but he thought of me, I can promise you.” + </p> + <p> + “He knew you were coming?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, “I told him I had got an admission card, just to make sure + he’d keep me in mind!” + </p> + <p> + 4. I did not have to hear much more of Claire’s story before making up my + mind that the wealthiest and most fashionable of New York’s young + bachelors was a rather self-centred person. He had fallen desperately in + love with the peerless Southern beauty, and when she had refused to have + anything to do with him, he had come back to the other woman for + consolation, and had compelled her to pretend to sympathize with his + agonies of soul. And this when he knew that she loved him with the + intensity of a jealous nature. + </p> + <p> + Claire had her own view of Sylvia Castleman, a view for which I naturally + made due reservations. Sylvia was a schemer, who had known from the first + what she wanted, and had played her part with masterly skill. As for + Claire, she had striven to match her moves, plotting in the darkness + against her, and fighting desperately with such weak weapons as she + possessed. It was characteristic that she did not blame herself for her + failure; it was the baseness of van Tuiver, his inability to appreciate + sincere devotion, his unworthiness of her love. And this, just after she + had been naively telling me of her efforts to poison his mind against + Sylvia while pretending to admire her! But I made allowances for Claire at + this moment—realizing that the situation had been one to overstrain + any woman’s altruism. + </p> + <p> + She had failed in her subtleties, and there had followed scenes of bitter + strife between the two. Sylvia, the cunning huntress, having pretended to + relent, van Tuiver had gone South to his wooing again, while Claire had + stayed at home and read a book about the poisoners of the Italian + renaissance. And then had come the announcement of the engagement, after + which the royal conqueror had come back in a panic, and sent embassies of + his male friends to plead with Claire, alternately promising her wealth + and threatening her with destitution, appealing to her fear, her cupidity, + and even to her love. To all of which I listened, thinking of the + wide-open, innocent eyes of the picture, and shedding tears within my + soul. So must the gods feel as they look down upon the affairs of mortals, + seeing how they destroy themselves by ignorance and folly, seeing how they + walk into the future as a blind man into a yawning abyss. + </p> + <p> + I gave, of course, due weight to the sneers of Claire. Perhaps the + innocent one really had set a trap—had picked van Tuiver out and + married him for his money. But even so, I could hope that she had not + known what she was doing. Surely it had never occurred to her that through + all the days of her triumph she would have to eat and sleep with the shade + of another woman at her side! + </p> + <p> + Claire said to me, not once, but a dozen times, “He’ll come back to me. + She’ll never be able to make him happy.” And so I pictured Sylvia upon her + honeymoon, followed by an invisible ghost whose voice she would never + hear, whose name she would never know. All that van Tuiver had learned + from Claire, the sensuality, the <i>ennin</i>, the contempt for woman—it + would rise to torment and terrify his bride, and turn her life to + bitterness. And then beyond this, deeps upon deeps, to which my + imagination did not go—and of which the Frenchwoman, with all her + freedom of tongue, gave me no more than a hint which I could not + comprehend. + </p> + <p> + 5. Claire Lepage at this time was desperately lonely and unhappy. Having + made the discovery that my arms were sturdy, used to doing a man’s work, + she clung to them. She begged me to go home with her, to visit her—finally + to come and live with her. Until recently an elderly companion, had posed + as her aunt, and kept her respectable while she was upon van Tuiver’s + yacht, and at his castle in Scotland. But this companion had died, and now + Claire had no one with whom to discuss her soul-states. + </p> + <p> + She occupied a beautiful house on the West Side, not far from Riverside + Drive; and in addition to the use of this she had an income of eight + thousand a year—which was not enough to make possible a chauffeur, + nor even to dress decently, but only enough to keep in debt upon. Such as + the income was, however, she was willing to share it with me. So there + opened before me a new profession—and a new insight into the + complications of parasitism. + </p> + <p> + I went to see her frequently at first, partly because I was interested in + her and her associates, and partly because I really thought I could help + her. But I soon came to realize that influencing Claire was like moulding + water; it flowed back round your hands, even while you worked. I would + argue with her about the physiological effects of alcohol, and when I had + convinced her, she would promise caution; but soon I would discover that + my arguments had gone over her head. I was at this time feeling my way + towards my work in the East. I tried to interest her in such things as + social reform, but realized that they had no meaning for her. She was + living the life of the pleasure-seeking idlers of the great metropolis, + and every time I met her it seemed to me that her character and her + appearance had deteriorated. + </p> + <p> + Meantime I picked up scraps of information concerning the van Tuivers. + There were occasional items in the papers, their yacht, the “Triton,” had + reached the Azores; it had run into a tender in the harbour of Gibraltar; + Mr. and Mrs. van Tuiver had received the honour of presentation at the + Vatican; they were spending the season in London, and had been presented + at court; they had been royal guests at the German army-manoeuvres. The + million wage-slaves of the metropolis, packed morning and night into the + roaring subways and whirled to and from their tasks, read items such as + these and were thrilled by the triumphs of their fellow-countrymen. + </p> + <p> + At Claire’s house I learned to be interested in “society” news. From a + weekly paper of gossip about the rich and great she would read paragraphs, + explaining subtle allusions and laying bare veiled scandals. Some of the + men she knew well, referring to them for my benefit as Bertie and Reggie + and Vivie and Algie. She also knew not a little about the women of that + super-world—information sometimes of an intimate nature, which these + ladies would have been startled to hear was going the rounds. + </p> + <p> + This insight I got into Claire’s world I found useful, needless to say, in + my occasional forays as a soap-box orator of Socialism. I would go from + the super-heated luxury of her home to visit tenement-dens where little + children made paper-flowers twelve and fourteen hours a day for a trifle + over one cent an hour. I would spend the afternoon floating about in the + park in the automobile of one of her expensive friends, and then take the + subway and visit one of the settlements, to hear a discussion of + conditions which doomed a certain number of working-girls to be burned + alive every year in factory fires. + </p> + <p> + As time went on, I became savage concerning such contrasts, and the + speeches I was making for the party began to attract attention. During the + summer, I recollect, I had begun to feel hostile even towards the lovely + image of Sylvia, which I had framed in my room. While she was being + presented at St. James’s, I was studying the glass-factories in South + Jersey, where I found little boys of ten working in front of glowing + furnaces until they dropped of exhaustion and sometimes had their eyes + burned out. While she and her husband were guests of the German Emperor, I + was playing the part of a Polish working-woman, penetrating the carefully + guarded secrets of the sugar-trust’s domain in Brooklyn, where human lives + are snuffed out almost every day in noxious fumes. + </p> + <p> + And then in the early fall Sylvia came home, her honeymoon over. She came + in one of the costly suites in the newest of the <i>de luxe</i> steamers; + and the next morning I saw a new picture of her, and read a few words her + husband had condescended to say to a fellow traveller about the courtesy + of Europe to visiting Americans. Then for a couple of months I heard no + more of them. I was busy with my child-labour work, and I doubt if a + thought of Sylvia crossed my mind, until that never-to-be-forgotten + afternoon at Mrs. Allison’s when she came up to me and took my hand in + hers. + </p> + <p> + 6. Mrs. Roland Allison was one of the comfortable in body who had begun to + feel uncomfortable in mind. I had happened to meet her at the settlement, + and tell her what I had seen in the glass factories; whereupon she made up + her mind that everybody she knew must hear me talk, and to that end gave a + reception at her Madison Avenue home. + </p> + <p> + I don’t remember much of what I said, but if I may take the evidence of + Sylvia, who remembered everything, I spoke effectively. I told them, for + one thing, the story of little Angelo Patri. Little Angelo was of that + indeterminate Italian age where he helped to support a drunken father + without regard to the child-labour laws of the State of New Jersey. His + people were tenants upon a fruit-farm a couple of miles from the + glass-factory, and little Angelo walked to and from his work along the + railroad-track. It is a peculiarity of the glass-factory that it has to + eat its children both by day and by night; and after working six hours + before midnight and six more after midnight, little Angelo was tired. He + had no eye for the birds and flowers on a beautiful spring morning, but as + he was walking home, he dropped in his tracks and fell asleep. The driver + of the first morning train on that branch-line saw what he took to be an + old coat lying on the track ahead, and did not stop to investigate. + </p> + <p> + All this had been narrated to me by the child’s mother, who had worked as + a packer of “beers,” and who had loved little Angelo. As I repeated her + broken words about the little mangled body, I saw some of my auditors wipe + away a surreptitious tear. + </p> + <p> + After I had stopped, several women came up to talk with me at the last, + when most of the company was departing, there came one more, who had + waited her turn. The first thing I saw was her loveliness, the thing about + her that dazzled and stunned people, and then came the strange sense of + familiarity. Where had I met this girl before? + </p> + <p> + She said what everybody always says; she had been so much interested, she + had never dreamed that such conditions existed in the world. I, applying + the acid test, responded, “So many people have said that to me that I have + begun to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is so in my case,” she replied, quickly. “You see, I have lived all my + life in the South, and we have no such conditions there.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Our negroes at least can steal enough to eat,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I smiled. Then—since one has but a moment or two to get in one’s + work in these social affairs, and so has to learn to thrust quickly: “You + have timber-workers in Louisiana, steel-workers in Alabama. You have + tobacco-factories, canning-factories, cotton-mills—have you been to + any of them to see how the people live?” + </p> + <p> + All this I said automatically, it being the routine of the agitator. But + meantime in my mind was an excitement, spreading like a flame. The + loveliness of this young girl; the eagerness, the intensity of feeling + written upon her countenance; and above all, the strange sense of + familiarity! Surely, if I had met her before, I should never have + forgotten her; surely it could not be—not possibly— + </p> + <p> + My hostess came, and ended my bewilderment. “You ought to get Mrs. van + Tuiver on your child-labour committee,” she said. + </p> + <p> + A kind of panic seized me. I wanted to say, “Oh, it is Sylvia Castleman!” + But then, how could I explain? I couldn’t say, “I have your picture in my + room, cut out of a newspaper.” Still less could I say, “I know a friend of + your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately Sylvia did not heed my excitement. (She had learned by this + time to pretend not to notice.) “Please don’t misunderstand me,” she was + saying. “I really <i>don’t</i> know about these things. And I would do + something to help if I could.” As she said this she looked with the + red-brown eyes straight into mine—a gaze so clear and frank and + honest, it was as if an angel had come suddenly to earth, and learned of + the horrible tangle into which we mortals have got our affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful what you’re saying,” put in our hostess, with a laugh. “You’re + in dangerous hands.” + </p> + <p> + But Sylvia would not be warned. “I want to know more about it,” she said. + “You must tell me what I can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her at her word,” said Mrs. Allison, to me. “Strike while the iron + is hot!” I detected a note of triumph in her voice; if she could say that + she had got Mrs. van Tuiver to take up child-labour—that indeed + would be a feather to wear! + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all I can,” I said. “That’s my work in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Take Mrs. Abbott away with you,” said the energetic hostess, to Sylvia; + and before I quite understood what was happening, I had received and + accepted an invitation to drive in the park with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver. + In her role of <i>dea ex machina</i> the hostess extricated me from the + other guests, and soon I was established in a big new motor, gliding up + Madison Avenue as swiftly and silently as a cloud-shadow over the fields. + As I write the words there lies upon my table a Socialist paper with one + of Will Dyson’s vivid cartoons, representing two ladies of the great world + at a reception. Says the first, “These social movements are becoming <i>quite</i> + worth while!” “Yes, indeed,” says the other. “One meets such good + society!” + </p> + <p> + 7. Sylvia’s part in this adventure was a nobler one than mine, Seated as I + was in a regal motor-car, and in company with one favoured of all the gods + in the world, I must have had an intense conviction of my own saintliness + not to distrust my excitement. But Sylvia, for her part, had nothing to + get from me but pain. I talked of the factory-fires and the horrors of the + sugar-refineries, and I saw shadow after shadow of suffering cross her + face. You may say it was cruel of me to tear the veil from those lovely + eyes, but in such a matter I felt myself the angel of the Lord and His + vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t know about these things!” she cried again. And I found it was + true. It would have been hard for me to imagine anyone so ignorant of the + realities of modern life. The men and women she had met she understood + quite miraculously, but they were only two kinds, the “best people” and + their negro servants. There had been a whole regiment of relatives on + guard to keep her from knowing anybody else, or anything else, and if by + chance a dangerous fact broke into the family stockade, they had formulas + ready with which to kill it. + </p> + <p> + “But now,” Sylvia went on, “I’ve got some money, and I can help, so I dare + not be ignorant any longer. You must show me the way, and my husband too. + I’m sure he doesn’t know what can be done.” + </p> + <p> + I said that I would do anything in my power. Her help would be invaluable, + not merely because of the money she might give, but because of the + influence of her name; the attention she could draw to any cause she + chose. I explained to her the aims and the methods of our child-labour + committee. We lobbied to get new legislation; we watched officials to + compel them to enforce the laws already existing; above all, we worked for + publicity, to make people realise what it meant that the new generation + was growing up without education, and stunted by premature toil. And that + was where she could help us most—if she would go and see the + conditions with her own eyes, and then appear before the legislative + committee this winter, in favour of our new bill! + </p> + <p> + She turned her startled eyes upon me at this. Her ideas of doing good in + the world were the old-fashioned ones of visiting and almsgiving; she had + no more conception of modern remedies than she had of modern diseases. + “Oh, I couldn’t possibly make a speech!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of such a thing. I don’t know enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can learn.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but that kind of work ought to be done by men.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve given men a chance, and they have made the evils. Whose business is + it to protect the children if not the women’s?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment, and then said: “I suppose you’ll laugh at me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” I promised; then as I looked at her I guessed. “Are you going to + tell me that woman’s place is the home?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what we think in Castleman County,” she said, smiling in spite of + herself. + </p> + <p> + “The children have got out of the home,” I replied. “If they are ever to + get back, we women must go and fetch them.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she laughed—that merry laugh that was the April sunshine of + my life for many years. “Somebody made a Suffrage speech in our State a + couple of years ago, and I wish you could have seen the horror of my + people! My Aunt Nannie—she’s Bishop Chilton’s wife—thought it + was the most dreadful thing that had happened since Jefferson Davis was + put in irons. She talked about it for days, and at last she went upstairs + and shut herself in the attic. The younger children came home from school, + and wanted to know where mamma was. Nobody knew. Bye and bye, the cook + came. ‘Marse Basil, what we gwine have fo’ dinner? I done been up to Mis’ + Nannie, an’ she say g’way an’ not pester her—she busy.’ Company + came, and there was dreadful confusion—nobody knew what to do about + anything—and still Aunt Nannie was locked in! At last came + dinner-time, and everybody else came. At last up went the butler, and came + down with the message that they were to eat whatever they had, and take + care of the company somehow, and go to prayer-meeting, and let her alone—she + was writing a letter to the Castleman County <i>Register</i> on the + subject of ‘The Duty of Woman as a Homemaker’!” + </p> + <p> + 8. This was the beginning of my introduction to Castleman County. It was a + long time before I went there, but I learned to know its inhabitants from + Sylvia’s stories of them. Funny stories, tragic stories, wild and + incredible stories out of a half-barbaric age! She would tell them and we + would laugh together; but then a wistful look would come into her eyes, + and a silence would fall. So very soon I made the discovery that my Sylvia + was homesick. In all the years that I knew her she never ceased to speak + of Castleman Hall as “home”. All her standards came from there, her new + ideas were referred there. + </p> + <p> + We talked of Suffrage for a while, and I spoke about the lives of women on + lonely farms—how they give their youth and health to their husband’s + struggle, yet have no money partnership which they can enforce in case of + necessity. “But surely,” cried Sylvia, “you don’t want to make divorce + more easy!” + </p> + <p> + “I want to make the conditions of it fair to women,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But then more women will get it! And there are so many divorced women + now! Papa says that divorce is a greater menace than Socialism!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke of Suffrage in England, where women were just beginning to make + public disturbances. Surely I did not approve of their leaving their homes + for such purposes as that! As tactfully as I could, I suggested that + conditions in England were peculiar. There was, for example, the quaint + old law which permitted a husband to beat his wife subject to certain + restrictions. Would an American woman submit to such a law? There was the + law which made it impossible for a woman to divorce her husband for + infidelity, unless accompanied by desertion or cruelty. Surely not even + her father would consider that a decent arrangement! I mentioned a recent + decision of the highest court in the land, that a man who brought his + mistress to live in his home, and compelled his wife to wait upon her, was + not committing cruelty within the meaning of the English law. I heard + Sylvia’s exclamation of horror, and met her stare of incredulity; and then + suddenly I thought of Claire, and a little chill ran over me. It was a + difficult hour, in more ways than one, that of my first talk with Mrs. + Douglas van Tuiver! + </p> + <p> + I soon made the discovery that, childish as her ignorance was, there was + no prejudice in it. If you brought her a fact, she did not say that it was + too terrible to be true, or that the Bible said otherwise, or that it was + indecent to know about it. Nor, when you met her next, did you discover + that she had forgotten it. On the contrary, you discovered that she had + followed it to its remote consequences, and was ready with a score of + questions as to these. I remember saying to myself, that first automobile + ride: “If this girl goes on thinking, she will get into trouble! She will + have to stop, for the sake of others!” + </p> + <p> + “You must meet my husband some time,” she said; and added, “I’ll have to + see my engagement-book. I have so much to do, I never know when I have a + moment free.” + </p> + <p> + “You must find it interesting,” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I did, for a while; but I’ve begun to get tired of so much going about. + For the most part I meet the same people, and I’ve found out what they + have to say.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “You have caught the society complaint already—<i>ennui</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “I had it years ago, at home. It’s true I never would have gone out at all + if it hadn’t been for the sake of my family. That’s why I envy a woman + like you—” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing. It was too funny, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver + envying me! + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just the irony of life. Do you know, I cut you out of the newspaper, and + put you in a little frame on my bureau. I thought, here is the loveliest + face I’ve ever seen, and here is the most-to-be-envied of women.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, but quickly became serious. “I learned very early in life that + I was beautiful; and I suppose if I were suddenly to cease being + beautiful, I’d miss it; yet I often think it’s a nuisance. It makes one + dependent on externals. Most of the beautiful women I’ve known make a sort + of profession of it—they live to shine and be looked at. + </p> + <p> + “And you don’t enjoy that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “It restricts one’s life. Men expect it of you, they resent your having + any other interest.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” I responded, gravely, “with all your beauty and wealth, you aren’t + perfectly happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” she cried—not having meant to confess so much. “I told + myself I would be happy, because I would be able to do so much good in the + world. There must be some way to do good with money! But now I’m not sure; + there seem to be so many things in the way. Just when you have your mind + made up that you have a way to help, someone comes and points out to you + that you may be really doing harm.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated again, and I said, “That means you have been looking into + the matter of charity.” + </p> + <p> + She gave me a bright glance. “How you understand things!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” I replied, “to know modern society so well that when you + meet certain causes you know what results to look for.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d explain to me why charity doesn’t do any good!” + </p> + <p> + “It would mean a lecture on the competitive wage-system,” I laughed— + “too serious a matter for a drive!” + </p> + <p> + This may have seemed shirking on my part. But here I was, wrapped in + luxurious furs, rolling gloriously through the park at twilight on a + brilliant autumn evening; and the confiscation of property seems so much + more startling a proposition when you are in immediate contact with it! + This principle, which explains the “opportunism” of Socialist + cabinet-ministers and Labour M.P.s may be used to account for the sudden + resolve which I had taken, that for this afternoon at least Mrs. Douglas + van Tuiver should not discover that I was either a divorced woman, or a + soap-box orator of the revolution. + </p> + <p> + 9. Sylvia, in that first conversation, told me much about herself that she + did not know she was telling. I became fairly certain, for instance, that + she had not married Mr. Douglas van Tuiver for love. The young girl who + has so married does not suffer from ennui in the first year, nor does she + find her happiness depending upon her ability to solve the problem of + charity in connection with her husband’s wealth. + </p> + <p> + She would have ridden and talked longer, she said, but for a dinner + engagement. She asked me to call on her, and I promised to come some + morning, as soon as she set a day. When the car drew up before the door of + her home, I thought of my first ride about the city in the “rubber-neck + wagon,” and how I had stared when the lecturer pointed out this mansion. + We, the passengers, had thrilled as one soul, imagining the wonderful life + which must go on behind those massive portals, the treasures outshining + the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, which required those thick, bronze bars + for their protection. And here was the mistress of all the splendour, + inviting me to come and see it from within! + </p> + <p> + She wanted to send me home in the car, but I would not have that, on + account of the push-cart men and the babies in my street; I got out and + walked—my heart beating fast, my blood leaping with exultation. I + reached home, and there on the bureau was the picture—but behold, + how changed! It was become a miracle of the art of colour-photography; its + hair was golden, its eyes a wonderful red-brown, its cheeks aglow with the + radiance of youth! And yet more amazing, the picture spoke! It spoke with + the most delicious of Southern drawls—referring to the “repo’t” of + my child-labour committee, shivering at the cold and bidding me pull the + “fu-uzz” up round me. And when I told funny stories about the Italians and + the Hebrews of my tenement-neighbourhood, it broke into silvery laughter, + and cried: “Oh, de-ah me! How que-ah!” Little had I dreamed, when I left + that picture in the morning, what a miracle was to be wrought upon it. + </p> + <p> + I knew, of course, what was the matter with me; the symptoms were + unmistakable. After having made up my mind that I was an old woman, and + that there was nothing more in life for me save labour—here the + little archer had come, and with the sharpest of his golden arrows, had + shot me through. I had all the thrills, the raptures and delicious agonies + of first love; I lived no longer in myself, but in the thought of another + person. Twenty times a day I looked at my picture, and cried aloud: “Oh, + beautiful, beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + I do not know how much of her I have been able to give. I have told of our + first talk—but words are so cold and dead! I stop and ask: What + there is, in all nature, that has given me the same feeling? I remember + how I watched the dragon-fly emerging from its chrysalis. It is soft and + green and tender; it clings to a branch and dries its wings in the sun, + and when the miracle is completed, there for a brief space it poises, + shimmering with a thousand hues, quivering with its new-born ecstasy. And + just so was Sylvia; a creature from some other world than ours, as yet + unsoiled by the dust and heat of reality. It came to me with a positive + shock, as a terrifying thing, that there should be in this world of strife + and wickedness any young thing that took life with such intensity, that + was so palpitating with eagerness, with hope, with sympathy. Such was the + impression that one got of her, even when her words most denied it. She + might be saying world-weary and cynical things, out of the maxims of Lady + Dee; but there was still the eagerness, the sympathy, surging beneath and + lifting her words. + </p> + <p> + The crown of her loveliness was her unconsciousness of self. Even though + she might be talking of herself, frankly admitting her beauty, she was + really thinking of other people, how she could get to them to help them. + This I must emphasize, because, apart from jesting, I would not have it + thought that I had fallen under the spell of a beautiful countenance, + combined with a motor-car and a patrician name. There were things about + Sylvia that were aristocratic, that could be nothing else; but she could + be her same lovely self in a cottage—as I shall prove to you before + I finish with the story of her life. + </p> + <p> + I was in love. At that time I was teaching myself German, and I sat one + day puzzling out two lines of Goethe: + </p> + <p> + “Oden and Thor, these two thou knowest; Freya, the heavenly, knowest thou + not.” + </p> + <p> + And I remember how I cried aloud in sudden delight: <i>“I know her!”</i> + For a long time that was one of my pet names—“Freya dis Himmlische!” + I only heard of one other that I preferred—when in course of time + she told me about Frank Shirley, and how she had loved him, and how their + hopes had been wrecked. He had called her “Lady Sunshine”; he had been + wont to call it over and over in his happiness, and as Sylvia repeated it + to me—“Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!” I could imagine that I caught + an echo of the very tones of Frank Shirley’s voice. + </p> + <p> + 10. For several days I waited upon the postman, and when the summons came + I dodged a committee-meeting, and ascended the marble stairs with + trepidation, and underwent the doubting scrutiny of an English lackey, + sufficiently grave in deportment and habiliments to have waited upon a + bishop in his own land. I have a vague memory of an entrance-hall with + panelled paintings and a double-staircase with a snow-white carpet, about + which I had read in the newspapers that it was woven in one piece, and had + cost an incredible sum. One did not have to profane it with his feet, as + there was an elevator provided. + </p> + <p> + I was shown to Sylvia’s morning-room, which had been “done” in pink and + white and gold by some decorator who had known her colours. It was large + enough to have held half-a-dozen of my own quarters, and the sun was + allowed to flood it. Through a door at one side came Sylvia, holding out + her hands to me. + </p> + <p> + She was really glad to see me! She began to apologize at once for the time + she had taken to write. It was because she had so much to do. She had + married into a world that took itself seriously: the “idle rich,” who + worked like slaves. “You know,” she said, while we sat on a pink satin + couch, and a footman brought us coffee: “you read that Mrs. So-and-so is a + ‘social queen,’ and you think it’s a newspaper phrase, but it isn’t; she + really feels that she’s a queen, and other people feel it, and she goes + through her ceremonies as solemnly as the Lord’s anointed.” + </p> + <p> + She went on to tell me some of her adventures. She had a keen sense of + fun, and was evidently suffering for an outlet for it. She saw through the + follies and pretences of people in a flash, but they were all such august + and important people that, out of regard for her husband, she dared not + let them suspect her clairvoyant power. + </p> + <p> + She referred to her experiences abroad. She had not liked Europe—being + quite frankly a provincial person. To Castleman County a foreigner was a + strange, dark person who mixed up his consonants, and was under suspicion + of being a fiddler or an opera-singer. The people she had met under her + husband’s charge had been socially indubitable, but still, they were + foreigners, and Sylvia could never really be sure what they meant. + </p> + <p> + There was, for instance, the young son of a German steel-king, a person of + amazing savoir faire, who had made bold to write books and exhibit + pictures, and had travelled so widely that he had even heard of Castleman + County. He had taken Sylvia to show her the sights of Berlin, and had + rolled her down the “Sieges Allée,” making outrageous fun of his Kaiser’s + taste in art, and coming at last to a great marble column, with a female + figure representing Victory upon the top. “You will observe,” said the + cultured young plutocrat, “that the Grecian lady stands a hundred meters + in the air, and has no stairway. There is a popular saying about her which + is delightful—that she is the only chaste woman in Berlin!” + </p> + <p> + I had been through the culture-seeking stage, and knew my Henry James; so + I could read between the lines of Sylvia’s experiences. I figured her as a + person walking on volcanic ground, not knowing her peril, but vaguely + disquieted by a smell of sulphur in the air. And once in a while a crack + would open in the ground! There was the Duke of Something in Rome, for + example, a melancholy young man, with whom she had coquetted, as she did, + in her merry fashion, with every man she met. Being married, she had taken + it for granted that she might be as winsome as she chose; but the young + Italian had misunderstood the game, and had whispered words of serious + import, which had so horrified Sylvia that she flew to her husband and + told him the story—begging him incidentally not to horse-whip the + fellow. In reply it had to be explained to her she had laid herself liable + to the misadventure. The ladies of the Italian aristocracy were severe and + formal, and Sylvia had no right to expect an ardent young duke to + understand her native wildness. + </p> + <p> + 11. Something of that sort was always happening—something in each + country to bewilder her afresh, and to make it necessary for her husband + to remind her of the proprieties. In France, a cousin of van Tuiver’s had + married a marquis, and they had visited the chateau. The family was + Catholic, of the very oldest and strictest, and the brother-in-law, a + prelate of high degree, had invited the guests to be shown through his + cathedral. “Imagine my bewilderment!” said Sylvia. “I thought I was going + to meet a church dignitary, grave and reverent; but here was a wit, a man + of the world. Such speeches you never heard! I was ravished by the + grandeur of the building, and I said: ‘If I had seen this, I would have + come to you to be married.’ ‘Madame is an American,’ he replied. ‘Come the + next time!’ When I objected that I was not a Catholic, he said: ‘Your + beauty is its own religion!’ When I protested that he would be doing me + too great an honour, ‘Madame,’ said he, ‘the <i>honneur</i> would be all + to the church!’ And because I was shocked at all this, I was considered to + be a provincial person!” + </p> + <p> + Then they had come to London, a dismal, damp city where you “never saw the + sun, and when you did see it it looked like a poached egg”; where you had + to learn to eat fish with the help of a knife, and where you might speak + of bitches, but must never on any account speak of your stomach. They went + for a week-end to “Hazelhurst,” the home of the Dowager Duchess of + Danbury, whose son van Tuiver, had entertained in America, and who, in the + son’s absence, claimed the right to repay the debt. The old lady sat at + table with two fat poodle dogs in infants’ chairs, one on each side of + her, feeding out of golden trays. There was a visiting curate, a + frightened little man at the other side of one poodle; in an effort to be + at ease he offered the wheezing creature a bit of bread. “Don’t feed my + dogs!” snapped the old lady. “I don’t allow anybody to feed my dogs!” + </p> + <p> + And then there was the Honourable Reginald Annersley, the youngest son of + the family, home from Eton on vacation. The Honourable Reginald was twelve + years of age, undersized and ill-nourished. (“They feed them badly,” his + mother had explained, “an’ the teachin’s no good either, but it’s a school + for gentlemen.”) “Honestly,” said Sylvia, “he was the queerest little + mannikin—like the tiny waiter’s assistants you see in hotels on the + Continent. He wore his Eton suit, you understand—grown-up evening + clothes minus the coat-tails, and a top hat. He sat at tea and chatted + with the mincing graces of a cotillion-leader; you expected to find some + of his hair gone when he took off his hat! He spoke of his brother, the + duke, who had gone off shooting seals somewhere. ‘The jolly rotter has + nothing to do but spend his money; but we younger sons have to work like + dogs when we grow up!’ I asked what he’d do, and he said ‘I suppose + there’s nothin’ but the church. It’s a beastly bore, but you do get a + livin’ out of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “That was too much for me,” said Sylvia. “I proceeded to tell the poor, + blasé infant about my childhood; how my sister Celeste and I had caught + half-tamed horses and galloped about the pasture on them, when we were so + small that our little fat legs stuck out horizontally; how we had given + ourselves convulsions in the green apple orchard, and had to be spanked + every day before we had our hair combed. I told how we heard a war-story + about a ‘train of gunpowder,’ and proceeded to lay such a train about the + attic of Castleman Hall, and set fire to it. I might have spent the + afternoon teaching the future churchman how to be a boy, if I hadn’t + suddenly caught a glimpse of my husband’s face!” + </p> + <p> + 12. I did not hear these stories all at once. I have put them together + here because they make a little picture of her honeymoon, and also because + they show how, without meaning it, she was giving me an account of her + husband. + </p> + <p> + There had been even fewer adventures in the life of young Douglas van + Tuiver than in the life of the Honourable Reginald Annersley. When one + heard the details of the up-bringing of this “millionaire baby,” one was + able to forgive him for being self-centred. He had grown into a man who + lived to fulfil his social duties, and he had taken to wife a girl who was + reckless, high-spirited, with a streak of almost savage pride in her. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia’s was the true aristocratic attitude towards the rest of the world. + It could never have occurred to her to imagine that anywhere upon the + whole earth there were people superior to the Castlemans of Castleman + County. If you had been ignorant enough to suggest such an idea, you would + have seen her eyes flash and her nostrils quiver; you would have been + enveloped in a net of bewilderment and transfixed with a trident of + mockery and scorn. That was what she had done in her husband-hunt. The + trouble was that van Tuiver was not clever enough to realise this, and to + trust her prowess against other beasts in the social jungle. + </p> + <p> + Strange to me were such inside glimpses into the life of these two + favourites of the gods! I never grew weary of speculating about them, and + the mystery of their alliance. How had Sylvia come to make this marriage? + She was not happy with him; keen psychologist that she was, she must have + foreseen that she would not be happy with him. Had she deliberately + sacrificed herself, because of the good she imagined she could do to her + family? + </p> + <p> + I was beginning to believe this. Irritated as she was by the solemn + snobberies of van Tuiver’s world, it was none the less true that she + believed in money; she believed in it with a faith which appalled me as I + came to realise it. Everybody had to have money; the social graces, the + aristocratic virtues were impossible without it. The rich needed it—even + the poor needed it! Could it be that the proud Castlemans of Castleman + County had needed it also? + </p> + <p> + If that guess at her inmost soul was correct, then what a drama was her + meeting with me! A person who despised money, who had proven it by grim + deeds—and this a person of her own money-worshipping sex! What was + the meaning of this phenomenon—this new religion that was + challenging the priesthood of Mammon? So some Roman consul’s daughter + might have sat in her father’s palace, and questioned in wonder a + Christian slave woman, destined ere long to face the lions in the arena. + </p> + <p> + The exactness of this simile was not altered by the fact that in this case + the slave woman was an agnostic, while the patrician girl had been brought + up in the creed of Christ. Sylvia had long since begun to question the + formulas of a church whose very pews were rented, and whose existence, she + declared, had to be justified by charity to the poor. As we sat and + talked, she knew this one thing quite definitely—that I had a + religion, and she had none. That was the reason for the excitement which + possessed her. + </p> + <p> + Nor was that fact ever out of my own mind for a moment. As she sat there + in her sun-flooded morning-room, clad in an exquisite embroidered robe of + pink Japanese silk, she was such a lovely thing that I was ready to cry + out for joy of her; and yet there was something within me, grim and + relentless, that sat on guard, warning me that she was of a different + faith from mine, and that between those two faiths there could be no + compromise. Some day she must find out what I thought of her husband’s + wealth, and the work it was doing in the world! Some day she must hear my + real opinion of the religion of motor-cars and hand-woven carpets! + </p> + <p> + 13. Nor was the day so very far off. She sat opposite me, leaning forward + in her eagerness, declaring: “You must help to educate me. I shall never + rest until I’m of some real use in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you thought of doing?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know yet. My husband has an aunt who’s interested in a + day-nursery for the children of working-women. I thought I might help + this, but my husband says it does no good whatever—it only makes + paupers of the poor. Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I think more than that,” I replied. “It sets women free to compete with + men, and beat down men’s wages.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a puzzle!” she exclaimed, and then: “Is there any way of helping + the poor that wouldn’t be open to the same objection?” + </p> + <p> + That brought us once more to the subject I had put aside at our last + meeting. She had not forgotten it, and asked again for an explanation. + What did I mean by the competitive wage system? + </p> + <p> + My purpose in this writing is to tell the story of Sylvia Castleman’s + life, to show, not merely what she was, but what she became. I have to + make real to you a process of growth in her soul, and at this moment the + important event is her discovery of the class-struggle and her reaction to + it. You may say, perhaps, that you are not interested in the + class-struggle, but you cannot alter the fact that you live in an age when + millions of people are having the course of their lives changed by the + discovery of it. Here, for instance, is a girl who has been taught to keep + her promises, and has promised to love, honour and obey a man; she is to + find the task more difficult, because she comes to understand the + competitive wage-system while he does not understand it and does not wish + to. If that seems to you strange material out of which to make a domestic + drama, I can only tell you that you have missed some of the vital facts of + your own time. + </p> + <p> + I gave her a little lesson in elementary economics. I showed her how, when + a capitalist needed labour, he bought it in the open market, like any + other commodity. He did not think about the human side of it, he paid the + market-price, which came to be what the labourer had to have in order to + live. No labourer could get more, because others would take less. + </p> + <p> + “If that be true,” I continued, “one of the things that follows is the + futility of charity. Whatever you do for the wage-worker on a general + scale comes sooner or later out of his wages. If you take care of his + children all day or part of the day, he can work for less; if he doesn’t + discover that someone else does, and underbids him and takes his place. If + you feed his children at school, if you bury him free, if you insure his + life, or even give him a dinner on Christmas Day, you simply enable his + landlord to charge him more, or his employer to pay him less.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia sat for a while in thought, and then asked: “What can be done about + such a fact?” + </p> + <p> + “The first thing to be done is to make sure that you understand it. + Nine-tenths of the people who concern themselves with social questions + don’t, and so they waste their time in futilities. For instance, I read + the other day an article by a benevolent old gentleman who believed that + the social problem could be solved by teaching the poor to chew their food + better, so that they would eat less. You may laugh at that, but it’s not a + bit more absurd than the idea of our men of affairs, that the thing to do + is to increase the efficiency of the workers, and so produce more goods.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the working-man doesn’t get more, even when he produces more?” + </p> + <p> + “Take the case of the glass factories. Men used to get eight dollars a day + there, but someone invented a machine that did the work of a dozen men, + and that machine is run by a boy for fifty cents a day.” + </p> + <p> + A little pucker of thought came between her eyes. “Might there not be a + law forbidding the employer to reduce wages?” + </p> + <p> + “A minimum wage law. But that would raise the cost of the product, and + drive the trade to another state.” + </p> + <p> + She suggested a national law, and when I pointed out that the trade would + go to other countries, she fell back on the tariff. I felt like an + embryologist—watching the individual repeating the history of the + race! + </p> + <p> + “Protection and prosperity!” I said, with a smile. “Don’t you see the + increase in the cost of living? The working-man gets more money in his pay + envelope, but he can’t buy more with it because prices go up. And even + supposing you could pass a minimum wage law, and stop competition in + wages, you’d only change it to competition in efficiency—you’d throw + the old and the feeble and the untrained into pauperism.” + </p> + <p> + “You make the world seem a hard place to live in,” protested Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “I’m simply telling you the elementary facts of business. You can forbid + the employer to pay less than a standard wage, but you can’t compel him to + employ people who aren’t able to earn that wage. The business-man doesn’t + employ for fun, he does it for the profit there is in it.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is true,” said Sylvia, quickly, “then the way of employing people + is cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “But what other way could you have?” + </p> + <p> + She considered. “They could be employed so that no one would make a + profit. Then surely they could be paid enough to live decently!” + </p> + <p> + “But whose interest would it be to employ them without profit?” + </p> + <p> + “The State should do it, if no one else will.” + </p> + <p> + I had been playing a game with Sylvia, as no doubt you have perceived. + “Surely,” I said, “you wouldn’t approve anything like that!” + </p> + <p> + “But why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, it would be Socialism.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me startled. “Is that Socialism?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is. It’s the essence of Socialism.” + </p> + <p> + “But then—what’s the harm in it?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “I thought you said that Socialism was a menace, like divorce!” + </p> + <p> + I had my moment of triumph, but then I discovered how fond was the person + who imagined that he could play with Sylvia. “I suspect you are something + of a Socialist yourself,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + She told me a long time afterwards what had been her emotions during these + early talks. It was the first time in her life that she had ever listened + to ideas that were hostile to her order, and she did so with tremblings + and hesitations, combating at every step an impulse to flee to the shelter + of conventionality. She was more shocked by my last revelation than she + let me suspect. It counted for little that I had succeeded in trapping her + in proposing for herself the economic programme of Socialism, for what + terrifies her class is not our economic programme, it is our threat of + slave-rebellion. I had been brought up in a part of the world where + democracy is a tradition, a word to conjure with, and I supposed that this + would be the case with any American—that I would only have to prove + that Socialism was democracy applied to industry. How could I have + imagined the kind of “democracy” which had been taught to Sylvia by her + Uncle Mandeville, the politician of the family, who believed that America + was soon to have a king, to keep the “foreign riff-raff” in its place! + </p> + <p> + 14. At this time I was living in a three-roomed apartment in one of the + new “model tenements” on the East Side. I had a saying about the place, + that it was “built for the proletariat and occupied by cranks.” What an + example for Sylvia of the futility of charity—the effort on the part + of benevolent capitalists to civilise the poor by putting bath-tubs in + their homes, and the discovery that the graceless creatures were using + them for the storage of coals! + </p> + <p> + Having heard these strange stories, Sylvia was anxious to visit me, and I + was, of course, glad to invite her. I purchased a fancy brand of tea, and + some implements for the serving of it, and she came, and went into + raptures over my three rooms and bath, no one of which would have made + more than a closet in her own apartments. I suspected that this was her + Southern <i>noblesse oblige</i>, but I knew also that in my living room + there were some rows of books, which would have meant more to Sylvia van + Tuiver just then than the contents of several clothes-closets. + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to discover that my efforts had not been wasted. She had + been thinking, and she had even found time, in the midst of her + distractions, to read part of a book. In the course of our talks I had + mentioned Veblen, and she had been reading snatches of his work on the + Leisure Class, and I was surprised, and not a little amused, to observe + her reaction to it. + </p> + <p> + When I talked about wages and hours of labour, I was dealing with things + that were remote from her, and difficult to make real; but Veblen’s theme, + the idle rich, and the arts and graces whereby they demonstrate their + power, was the stuff of which her life was made. The subtleties of social + ostentation, the minute distinctions between the newly-rich and the + anciently-rich, the solemn certainties of the latter and the quivering + anxieties of the former—all those were things which Sylvia knew as a + bird knows the way of the wind. To see the details of them analysed in + learned, scientific fashion, explained with great mouthfuls of words which + one had to look up in the dictionary—that was surely a new discovery + in the book-world! “Conspicuous leisure!” “Vicarious consumption of + goods!” “Oh, de-ah me, how que-ah!” exclaimed Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + And what a flood of anecdotes it let loose! A flood that bore us straight + back to Castleman Hall, and to all the scenes of her young ladyhood! If + only Lady Dee could have revised this book of Veblen’s, how many points + she could have given to him! No details had been too minute for the + technique of Sylvia’s great-aunt—the difference between the swish of + the right kind of silk petticoats and the wrong kind; and yet her + technique had been broad enough to take in a landscape. “Every girl should + have a background,” had been one of her maxims, and Sylvia had to have a + special phaeton to drive, a special horse to ride, special roses which no + one else was allowed to wear. + </p> + <p> + “Conspicuous expenditure of time,” wrote Veblen. It was curious, said + Sylvia, but nobody was free from this kind of vanity. There was dear old + Uncle Basil, a more godly bishop never lived, and yet he had a foible for + carving! In his opinion the one certain test of a gentleman was the ease + with which he found the joints of all kinds of meat, and he was in arms + against the modern tendency to turn such accomplishments over to butlers. + He would hold forth on the subject, illustrating his theories with an + elegant knife, and Sylvia remembered how her father and the Chilton boys + had wired up the joints of a duck for the bishop to work on. In the + struggle the bishop had preserved his dignity, but lost the duck, and the + bishop’s wife, being also high-born, and with a long line of traditions + behind her, had calmly continued the conversation, while the butler + removed the smoking duck from her lap! + </p> + <p> + Such was the way of things at Castleman Hall! The wild, care-free people—like + half-grown children, romping their way through life! There was really + nothing too crazy for them to do, if the whim struck them. Once a visiting + cousin had ventured the remark that she saw no reason why people should + not eat rats; a barn-rat was clean in its person, and far choicer in its + food than a pig. Thereupon “Miss Margaret” had secretly ordered the + yard-man to secure a barn-rat; she had had it broiled, and served in a + dish of squirrels, and had sat by and watched the young lady enjoy it! And + this, mind you, was Mrs. Castleman of Castleman Hall, mother of five + children, and as stately a dame as ever led the grand march at the + Governor’s inaugural ball! “Major Castleman,” she would say to her + husband, “you may take me into my bedroom, and when you have locked the + door securely, you may spit upon me, if you wish; but don’t you dare even + to <i>imagine</i> anything undignified about me in public!” + </p> + <p> + 15. In course of time Sylvia and I became very good friends. Proud as she + was, she was lonely, and in need of some one to open her eager mind to. + Who was there safer to trust than this plain Western woman, who lived so + far, both in reality and in ideas, from the great world of fashion? + </p> + <p> + Before we parted she considered it necessary to mention my relationship to + this world. She had a most acute social conscience. She knew exactly what + formalities she owed to everyone, just when she ought to call, and how + long she ought to stay, and what she ought to ask the other person to do + in return; she assumed that the other knew it all exactly as well, and + would suffer if she failed in the slightest degree. + </p> + <p> + So now she had to throw herself upon my mercy. “You see,” she explained, + “my husband wouldn’t understand. I may be able to change him gradually, + but if I shock him all at once—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. van Tuiver—” I smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t really imagine!” she persisted. “You see, he takes his social + position so seriously! And when you are conspicuous—when everybody’s + talking about what you do—when everything that’s the least bit + unusual is magnified—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl!” I broke in again. “Stop a moment and let me talk!” + </p> + <p> + “But I hate to have to think—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry about my thoughts! They are most happy ones! You must + understand that a Socialist cannot feel about such things as you do; we + work out our economic interpretation of them, and after that they are + simply so much data to us. I might meet one of your great friends, and she + might snub me, but I would never think she had snubbed <i>me</i>—it + would be my Western accent, and my forty-cent hat, and things like that + which had put me in a class in her mind. My real self nobody can snub—certainly + not until they’ve got at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Sylvia, with shining eyes. “You have your own kind of + aristocracy, I see!” + </p> + <p> + “What I want,” I said, “is you. I’m an old hen whose chickens have grown + up and left her, and I want something to mother. Your wonderful social + world is just a bother to me, because it keeps me from gathering you into + my arms as I’d like to. So what you do is to think of some role for me to + play, so that I can come to see you; let me be advising you about your + proposed day-nursery, or let me be a tutor of something, or a nice, + respectable sewing-woman who darns the toes of your silk stockings!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “If you suppose that I’m allowed to wear my stockings until + they have holes in them, you don’t understand the perquisites of maids.” + She thought a moment, and then added: “You might come to trim hats for + me.” + </p> + <p> + By that I knew that we were really friends. If it does not seem to you a + bold thing for Sylvia to have made a joke about my hat, it is only because + you do not yet know her. I have referred to her money-consciousness and + her social-consciousness; I would be idealizing her if I did not refer to + another aspect of her which appalled me when I came to realise it—her + clothes-consciousness. She knew every variety of fabric and every shade of + colour and every style of design that ever had been delivered of the + frenzied sartorial imagination. She had been trained in all the infinite + minutiae which distinguished the right from the almost right; she would + sweep a human being at one glance, and stick him in a pigeon hole of her + mind for ever—because of his clothes. When later on she had come to + be conscious of this clothes-consciousness, she told me that ninety-nine + times out of a hundred she had found this method of appraisal adequate for + the purposes of society life. What a curious comment upon our civilization—that + all that people had to ask of one another, all they had to give to one + another, should be expressible in terms of clothes! + </p> + <p> + 16. I had set out to educate Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver in the things I + thought she needed to know. A part of my programme was to find some people + of modern sympathies whom she might meet without offence to her old + prejudices. The first person I thought of was Mrs. Jessie Frothingham, who + was the head of a fashionable girls’ school, just around the corner from + Miss Abercrombie’s where Sylvia herself had received the finishing touch. + Mrs. Frothingham’s was as exclusive and expensive a school as the most + proper person could demand, and great was Sylvia’s consternation when I + told her that its principal was a member of the Socialist party, and made + no bones about speaking in public for us. + </p> + <p> + How in the world did she manage it? For one thing, I answered, she ran a + good school—nobody had ever been heard to deny that. For another, + she was an irresistibly serene and healthy person, who would look one of + her millionaire “papas” in the eye and tell him what was what with so much + decision; it would suddenly occur to the great man that if his daughter + could be made into so capable a woman, he would not care what ticket she + might vote. + </p> + <p> + Then too, it was testimony to the headway we are making that we are + ceasing to be dangerous, and getting to be picturesque. In these days of + strenuous social competition, when mammas are almost at their wits’ end + for some new device, when it costs incredible sums to make no impression + at all—here was offered a new and inexpensive way of being unique. + There could be no question that men were getting to like serious women; + the most amazing subjects were coming up at dinner-parties, and you might + hear the best people speak disrespectfully of their own money, which means + that the new Revolution will have not merely its “Egalité Orleans,” but + also some of the ladies of his family! + </p> + <p> + I telephoned from Sylvia’s house to Mrs. Frothingham, who answered: + “Wouldn’t you like Mrs. van Tuiver to hear a speech? I am to speak next + week at the noon-day Wall Street meeting.” I passed the question on, and + Sylvia answered with an exclamation of delight: “Would a small boy like to + attend a circus?” + </p> + <p> + It was arranged that Sylvia was to take us in her car. You may picture me + with my grand friends—an old speckled hen in the company of two + golden pheasants. I kept very quiet and let them get acquainted, knowing + that my cause was safe in the hands of one so perfectly tailored as Mrs. + Frothingham. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia expressed her delight at the idea of hearing a Socialist speech, + and her amazement that the head of Mrs. Frothingham’s should be so + courageous, and meantime we threaded our way through the tangle of trucks + and surface-cars on Broadway, and came to the corner of Wall Street. Here + Mrs. Frothingham said she would get out and walk; it was quite likely that + someone might recognise Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, and she ought not to be + seen arriving with the speaker. Sylvia, who would not willingly have + committed a breach of etiquette towards a bomb-throwing anarchist, + protested at this, but Mrs. Frothingham laughed good-naturedly, saying + that it would be time enough for Mrs. van Tuiver to commit herself when + she knew what she believed. + </p> + <p> + The speaking was to be from the steps of the Sub-treasury. We made a <i>détour,</i> + and came up Broad Street, stopping a little way from the corner. These + meetings had been held all through the summer and fall, so that people had + learned to expect them; although it lacked some minutes of noon, there was + already a crowd gathered. A group of men stood upon the broad steps, one + with a red banner and several others with armfuls of pamphlets and books. + With them was our friend, who looked at us and smiled, but gave no other + sign of recognition. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia pushed back the collar of her sable coat, and sat erect in her + shining blue velvet, her eyes and her golden hair shining beneath the + small brim of a soft velvet hat. As she gazed eagerly at the busy throngs + of men hurrying about this busy corner, she whispered to me: “I haven’t + been so excited since my <i>début</i> party!” + </p> + <p> + The crowd increased until it was difficult to get through Wall Street. The + bell of Old Trinity was tolling the hour of noon, and the meeting was + about to begin, when suddenly I heard an exclamation from Sylvia, and + turning, saw a well-dressed man pushing his way from the office of Morgan + and Company towards us. Sylvia clutched my hand where it lay on the seat + of the car, and half gasped: “My husband!” + </p> + <p> + 17. Of course I had been anxious to see Douglas van Tuiver. I had heard + Claire Lepage’s account of him, and Sylvia’s, also I had seen pictures of + him in the newspapers, and had studied them with some care, trying to + imagine what sort of personage he might be. I knew that he was + twenty-four, but the man who came towards us I would have taken to be + forty. His face was sombre, with large features and strongly marked lines + about the mouth; he was tall and thin, and moved with decision, betraying + no emotion even in this moment of surprise. “What are you doing here?” + were his first words. + </p> + <p> + For my part, I was badly “rattled”; I knew by the clutch of Sylvia’s hand + that she was too. But here I got a lesson in the nature of “social + training.” Some of the bright colour had faded from her face, but she + spoke with the utmost coolness, the words coming naturally and simply: “We + can’t get through the crowd.” And at the same time she looked about her, + as much as to say: “You can see for yourself.” (One of the maxims of Lady + Dee had set forth that a lady never told a lie if she could avoid it.) + </p> + <p> + Sylvia’s husband looked about, saying: “Why don’t you call an officer?” He + started to follow his own suggestion, and I thought then that my friend + would miss her meeting. But she had more nerve than I imagined. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “Please don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Still there was no emotion in the cold, grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Because—I think there’s something going on.” + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not in a hurry, and I’d like to see.” + </p> + <p> + He stood for a moment looking at the crowd. Mrs. Frothingham had come + forward, evidently intending to speak. “What is this, Ferris?” he demanded + of the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure, sir,” said the man. “I think it’s a Socialist meeting.” (He + was, of course, not missing the little comedy. I wondered what he + thought!) + </p> + <p> + “A Socialist meeting?” said van Tuiver; then, to his wife: “You don’t want + to stay for that!” + </p> + <p> + Again Sylvia astonished me. “I’d like to very much,” she answered simply. + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. I saw him stare at her, and then I saw his glance take + me in. I sat in a corner as inconspicuous as I could make myself. I + wondered whether I was a sempstress or a tutor, and whether either of + these functionaries were introduced, and whether they shook hands or not. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Frothingham had taken her stand at the base of Washington’s statue. + Had she by any chance identified the tall and immaculate gentleman who + stood beside the automobile? Before she had said three sentences I made + sure that she had done so, and I was appalled at her audacity. + </p> + <p> + “Fellow citizens,” she began—“fellow-buccaneers of Wall Street.” And + when the mild laughter had subsided: “What I have to say is going to be + addressed to one individual among you—the American millionaire. I + assume there is one present—if no actual millionaire, then surely + several who are destined to be, and not less than a thousand who aspire to + be. So hear me, Mr. Millionaire,” this with a smile, which gave you a + sense of a reserve fund of energy and good humour. She had the crowd with + her from the start—all but one. I stole a glance at the millionaire, + and saw that he was not smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you get in?” asked his wife, and he answered coldly: “No, I’ll wait + till you’ve had enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Last summer I had a curious experience,” said the speaker. “I was a guest + at a tennis match, played upon the grounds of a State insane-asylum, the + players being the doctors of the institution. Here, on a beautiful + sunshiny afternoon, were ladies and gentlemen clad in festive white, + enjoying a holiday, while in the background stood a frowning building with + iron-barred gates and windows, from which one heard now and then the + howlings of the maniacs. Some of the less fortunate of these victims of + fate had been let loose, and while we played tennis, they chased the + balls. All afternoon, while I sipped tea and chatted and watched the + games, I said to myself: ‘Here is the most perfect simile of our + civilization that has ever come to me. Some people wear white and play + tennis all day, while other people chase the balls, or howl in dungeons in + the background!’ And that is the problem I wish to put before my American + millionaire—the problem of what I will call our lunatic-asylum stage + of civilization. Mind you, this condition is all very well so long as we + can say that the lunatics are incurable—that there is nothing we can + do but shut our ears to their howling, and go ahead with our tennis. But + suppose the idea were to dawn upon us that it is only because we played + tennis all day that the lunatic-asylum is crowded, then might not the + howls grow unendurable to us, and the game lose its charm?” + </p> + <p> + Stealing glances about me, I saw that several people were watching the + forty-or-fifty-times-over millionaire; they had evidently recognised him, + and were enjoying the joke. “Haven’t you had enough of this?” he suddenly + demanded of his wife, and she answered, guilelessly: “No, let’s wait. I’m + interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me, Mr. American Millionaire,” the speaker was continuing. + “You are the one who plays tennis, and we, who chase the balls for you—we + are the lunatics. And my purpose to-day is to prove to you that it is only + because you play tennis all day that we have to chase balls all the day, + and to tell you that some time soon we are going to cease to be lunatics, + and that then you will have to chase your own balls! And don’t, in your + amusement over this illustration, lose sight of the serious nature of what + I am talking about—the horrible economic lunacy which is known as + poverty, and which is responsible for most of the evils we have in this + world to-day—for crime and prostitution, suicide, insanity and war. + My purpose is to show you, not by any guess of mine, or any appeals to + your faith, but by cold business facts which can be understood in Wall + Street, that this economic lunacy is one which can be cured; that we have + the remedy in our hands, and lack nothing but the intelligence to apply + it.” + </p> + <p> + 18. I do not want to bore you with a Socialist speech. I only want to give + you an idea of the trap into which Mr. Douglas van Tuiver had been drawn. + He stood there, rigidly aloof while the speaker went on to explain the + basic facts of wealth-production in modern society. She quoted from + Kropotkin: “‘Fields, Factories and Work-shops,’ on sale at this meeting + for a quarter!”—showing how by modern intensive farming—no + matter of theory, but methods which were in commercial use in hundreds of + places—it would be possible to feed the entire population of the + globe from the soil of the British Isles alone. She showed by the + bulletins of the United States Government how the machine process had + increased the productive power of the individual labourer ten, twenty, a + hundred fold. So vast was man’s power of producing wealth today, and yet + the labourer lived in dire want just as in the days of crude + hand-industry! + </p> + <p> + So she came back to her millionaire, upon whom this evil rested. He was + the master of the machine for whose profit the labourer had to produce. He + could only employ the labourer to produce what could be sold at a profit; + and so the stream of prosperity was choked at its source. “It is you, Mr. + Millionaire, who are to blame for poverty; it is because so many millions + of dollars must be paid to you in profits that so many millions of men + must live in want. In other words, precisely as I declared at the outset, + it is your playing tennis which is responsible for the lunatics chasing + the balls!” + </p> + <p> + I wish that I might give some sense of the speaker’s mastery of this + situation, the extent to which she had communicated her good-humour to the + crowd. You heard ripple after ripple of laughter, you saw everywhere about + you eager faces, following every turn of the argument. No one could resist + the contagion of interest—save only the American millionaire! He + stood impassive, never once smiling, never once betraying a trace of + feeling. Venturing to watch him more closely, however, I could see the + stern lines deepening about his mouth, and his long, lean face growing + more set. + </p> + <p> + The speaker had outlined the remedy—a change from the system of + production for profit to one of production for use. She went on to explain + how the change was coming; the lunatic classes were beginning to doubt the + divine nature of the rules of the asylum, and they were preparing to + mutiny, and take possession of the place. And here I saw that Sylvia’s + husband had reached his limit. He turned to her: “Haven’t you had enough + of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” she began. “If you don’t mind—” + </p> + <p> + “I do mind very much,” he said, abruptly. “I think you are committing a + breach of taste to stay here, and I would be greatly obliged if you would + leave.” + </p> + <p> + And without really waiting for Sylvia’s reply, he directed, “Back out of + here, Ferris.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur cranked up, and sounded his horn—which naturally had + the effect of disturbing the meeting. People supposed we were going to try + to get through the crowd ahead—and there was no place where anyone + could move. But van Tuiver went to the rear of the car, saying, in a voice + of quiet authority: “A little room here, please.” And so, foot by foot, we + backed away from the meeting, and when we had got clear of the throng, the + master of the car stepped in, and we turned and made our way down Broad + Street. + </p> + <p> + And now I was to get a lesson in the aristocratic ideal. Of course van + Tuiver was angry; I believe he even suspected his wife of having known of + the meeting. I supposed he would ask some questions; I supposed that at + least he would express his opinion of the speech, his disgust that a woman + of education should make such a spectacle of herself. Such husbands as I + had been familiar with had never hesitated to vent their feelings under + such circumstances. But from Douglas van Tuiver there came—not a + word! He sat, perfectly straight, staring before him, like a sphinx; and + Sylvia, after one or two swift glances at him, began to gossip cheerfully + about her plans for the day-nursery for working-women! + </p> + <p> + So for a few blocks, until suddenly she leaned forward. “Stop here, + Ferris.” And then, turning to me, “Here is the American Trust Company.” + </p> + <p> + “The American Trust Company?” I echoed, in my dumb stupidity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that is where the check is payable,” said Sylvia, and gave me a + pinch. + </p> + <p> + And so I comprehended, and gathered up my belongings and got out. She + shook my hand warmly, and her husband raised his hat in a very formal + salute, after which the car sped on up the street. I stood staring after + it, in somewhat the state of mind of any humble rustic who may have been + present when Elijah was borne into the heavens by the chariot of fire! + </p> + <p> + 19. Sylvia had been something less than polite to me; and so I had not + been home more than an hour before there came a messenger-boy with a note. + By way of reassuring her, I promised to come to see her the next morning; + and when I did, and saw her lovely face so full of concern, I forgot + entirely her worldly greatness, and did what I had longed to do from the + beginning—put my arms about her and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” I protested, “I don’t want to be a burden in your life—I + want to help you!’” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she exclaimed, “what must you have thought—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I had made a lucky escape!” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + She was proud—proud as an Indian; it was hard for her to make + admissions about her husband. But then—we were like two errant + school-girls, who had been caught m an escapade! “I don’t know what I’m + going to do about him,” she said, with a wry smile. “He really won’t + listen—I can’t make any impression on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he guess that you’d come there on purpose?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I told him,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>told</i> him!” + </p> + <p> + “I’d meant to keep it secret—I wouldn’t have minded telling him a + fib about a little thing. But he made it so very serious!” + </p> + <p> + I could understand that it must have been serious after the telling. I + waited for her to add what news she chose. + </p> + <p> + “It seems,” she said, “that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs. + Frothingham’s. You can imagine!” + </p> + <p> + “I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil.” + </p> + <p> + “No; my husband says his Uncle Archibald always was a fool. But how can + anyone be so narrow! He seemed to take Mrs. Frothingham as a personal + affront.” + </p> + <p> + This was the most definite bit of vexation against her husband that she + had ever let me see. I decided to turn it into a jest. “Mrs. Frothingham + will be glad to know she was understood,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But seriously, why can’t men have open minds about politics and money?” + She went on in a worried voice: “I knew he was like this when I met him at + Harvard. He was living in his own house, aloof from the poorer men—the + men who were most worth while, it seemed to me. And when I told him of the + bad effect he was having on these men and on his own character as well, he + said he would do whatever I asked—he even gave up his house and went + to live in a dormitory. So I thought I had some influence on him. But now, + here is the same thing again, only I find that one can’t take a stand + against one’s husband. At least, he doesn’t admit the right.” She + hesitated. “It doesn’t seem loyal to talk about it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” I said with an impulse of candour, “there isn’t much you + can tell me about that problem. My own marriage went to pieces on that + rock.” + </p> + <p> + I saw a look of surprise upon her face. “I haven’t told you my story yet,” + I said. “Some day I will—when you feel you know me well enough for + us to exchange confidences.” + </p> + <p> + There was more than a hint of invitation in this. After a silence, she + said: “One’s instinct is to hide one’s troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I answered, “let me tell you about us. You must realise that + you’ve been a wonderful person to me; you belong to a world I never had + anything to do with, and never expected to get a glimpse of. It’s the + wickedness of our class-civilization that human beings can’t be just human + beings to each other—a king can hardly have a friend. Even after + I’ve overcome the impulse I have to be awed by your luxury and your + grandness; I’m conscious of the fact that everybody else is awed by them. + If I so much as mention that I’ve met you, I see people start and stare at + me—instantly I become a personage. It makes me angry, because I want + to know <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + She was gazing at me, not saying a word. I went on: “I’d never have + thought it possible for anyone to be in your position and be real and + straight and human, but I realise that you have managed to work that + miracle. So I want to love you and help you, in every way I know how. But + you must understand, I can’t ask for your confidence, as I could for any + other woman’s. There is too much vulgar curiosity about the rich and + great, and I can’t pretend to be unaware of that hatefulness; I can’t help + shrinking from it. So all I can say is—if you need me, if you ever + need a real friend, why, here I am; you may be sure I understand, and + won’t tell your secrets to anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + With a little mist of tears in her eyes, Sylvia put out her hand and + touched mine. And so we went into a chamber alone together, and shut the + cold and suspicious world outside. + </p> + <p> + 20. We knew each other well enough now to discuss the topic which has been + the favourite of women since we sat in the doorways of caves and pounded + wild grain in stone mortars—the question of our lords, who had gone + hunting, and who might be pleased to beat us on their return. I learned + all that Sylvia had been taught on the subject of the male animal; I + opened that amazing unwritten volume of woman traditions, the maxims of + Lady Dee Lysle. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia’s maternal great-aunt had been a great lady out of a great age, and + incidentally a grim and grizzled veteran of the sex-war. Her philosophy + started from a recognition of the physical and economic inferiority of + woman, as complete as any window-smashing suffragette could have + formulated, but her remedy for it was a purely individualist one, the + leisure-class woman’s skill in trading upon her sex. Lady Dee did not use + that word, of course—she would as soon have talked of her esophagus. + Her formula was “charm,” and she had taught Sylvia that the preservation + of “charm” was the end of woman’s existence, the thing by which she + remained a lady, and without which she was more contemptible than the + beasts. + </p> + <p> + She had taught this, not merely by example and casual anecdote, but by + precepts as solemnly expounded as bible-texts. “Remember, my dear, a woman + with a husband is like a lion-tamer with a whip!” And the old lady would + explain what a hard and dangerous life was lived by lion-tamers, how their + safety depended upon life-long distrustfulness of the creatures over whom + they ruled. She would tell stories of the rending and maiming of luckless + ones, who had forgotten for a brief moment the nature of the male animal! + “Yes, my dear,” she would say, “believe in love; but let the man believe + first!” Her maxims never sinned by verbosity. + </p> + <p> + The end of all this was not merely food and shelter, a home and children, + it was the supremacy of a sex, its ability to shape life to its whim. By + means of this magic “charm”—a sort of perpetual individual + sex-strike—a woman turned her handicaps into advantages and her + chains into ornaments; she made herself a rare and wonderful creature, up + to whom men gazed in awe. It was “romantic love,” but preserved throughout + life, instead of ceasing with courtship. + </p> + <p> + All the Castleman women understood these arts, and employed them. There + was Aunt Nannie, when she cracked her whip the dear old bishop-lion would + jump as if he had been shot! Did not the whole State know the story of how + once he had been called upon at a banquet and had risen and remarked: + “Ladies and gentlemen, I had intended to make a speech to you this + evening, but I see that my wife is present, so I must beg you to excuse + me.” The audience roared, and Aunt Nannie was furious, but poor dear + Bishop Chilton had spoken but the literal truth, that he could not spread + the wings of his eloquence in the presence of his “better half.” + </p> + <p> + And with Major Castleman, though it seemed different, it was really the + same. Sylvia’s mother had let herself get stout—which seemed a + dangerous mark of confidence in the male animal. But the major was fifteen + years older than his wife, and she had a weak heart with which to + intimidate him. Now and then the wilfulness of Castleman Lysle would + become unendurable in the house, and his father would seize him and turn + him over his knee. His screams would bring “Miss Margaret” flying to the + rescue: “Major Castleman, how dare you spank one of <i>my</i> children?” + And she would seize the boy and march off in terrible haughtiness, and + lock herself and her child in her room, and for hours afterwards the poor + major would wander about the house, suffering the lonelines of the guilty + soul. You would hear him tapping gently at his lady’s door. “Honey! Honey! + Are you mad with me?” “Major Castleman,” the stately answer would come, + “will you oblige me by leaving one room in this house to which I may + retire?” + </p> + <p> + 21. I would give you a wrong idea of Sylvia if I did not make clear that + along with this sophistication as to the play-aspects of sex, there went + the most incredible ignorance as to its practical realities. In my + arguments I had thought to appeal to her by referring to that feature of + wage-slavery which more than even child-labour stirs the moral sense of + women, but to my utter consternation I discovered that here was a woman + nearly a year married who did not know what prostitution was. A suspicion + had begun to dawn upon her, and she asked me, timidly: Could it be + possible that that intimacy which was given in marriage could become a + thing of barter in the market-place? When I told her the truth, I found + her horror so great that it was impossible to go on talking economics. How + could I say that women were driven to such things by poverty? Surely a + woman who was not bad at heart would starve, before she would sell her + body to a man! + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I should have been more patient with her, but I am bitter on these + subjects. “My dear Mrs. van Tuiver,” I said, “there is a lot of nonsense + talked about this matter. There is very little sex-life for women without + a money-price made clear in advance.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about your case,” I replied, “but when I married, it was + because I was unhappy and wanted a home of my own. And if the truth were + told, that is why most women marry.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has THAT to do with it?” she cried. She really did not see! + </p> + <p> + “What is the difference—except that such women stand out for a + maintenance, while the prostitute takes cash?” I saw that I had shocked + her, and I said: “You must be humble about these things, because you have + never been poor, and you cannot judge those who have been. But surely you + must have known worldly women who married rich men for their money. And + surely you admit that that is prostitution?” + </p> + <p> + She fell suddenly silent, and I saw what I had done, and, no doubt, you + will say I should have been ashamed of myself. But when one has seen as + much of misery and injustice as I have, one cannot be so patient with the + fine artificial delicacies and sentimentalities of the idle rich. I went + ahead to tell her some stories, showing her what poverty actually meant to + women. + </p> + <p> + Then, as she remained silent, I asked her how she had managed to remain so + ignorant. Surely she must have met with the word “prostitution” in books; + she must have heard allusions to the “demi-monde.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, “I used to see conspicuous-looking women at the + race-track in New Orleans; I’ve sat near them in restaurants, I’ve known + by my mother’s looks and her agitation that they must be bad women. But + you see, I didn’t know what it meant—I had nothing but a vague + feeling of something dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + I smiled. “Then Lady Dee did not tell you everything about the + possibilities of her system of ‘charm.’” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sylvia. “Evidently she didn’t!” She sat staring at me, trying + to get up the courage to go on with this plain speaking. + </p> + <p> + And at last the courage came. “I think it is wrong,” she exclaimed. “Girls + ought not to be kept so ignorant! They ought to know what such things + mean. Why, I didn’t even know what marriage meant!” + </p> + <p> + “Can that be true?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “All my life I had thought of marriage, in a way; I had been trained to + think of it with every eligible man I met—but to me it meant a home, + a place of my own to entertain people in. I pictured myself going driving + with my husband, giving dinner-parties to his friends. I knew I’d have to + let him kiss me, but beyond that—I had a vague idea of something, + but I didn’t think. I had been deliberately trained not to let myself + think—to run away from every image that came to me. And I went on + dreaming of what I’d wear, and how I’d greet my husband when he came home + in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you think about children?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but I thought of the CHILDREN. I thought what they’d look like, + and how they’d talk, and how I’d love them. I don’t know if many young + girls shut their minds up like that.” + </p> + <p> + She was speaking with agitation, and I was gazing into her eyes, reading + more than she knew I was reading. I was nearer to solving the problem that + had been baffling me. And I wanted to take her hands in mine, and say: + “You would never have married him if you’d understood!” + </p> + <p> + 22. Sylvia thought she ought to have been taught, but when she came to + think of it she was unable to suggest who could have done the teaching. + “Your mother?” I asked, and she had to laugh, in spite of the seriousness + of her mood. “Poor dear mamma! When they sent me up here to boarding + school, she took me off and tried to tell me not to listen to vulgar talk + from the girls. She managed to make it clear that I mustn’t listen to + something, and I managed not to listen. I’m sure that even now she would + rather have her tongue cut out than talk to me about such things.” + </p> + <p> + “I talked to my children,” I assured her. + </p> + <p> + “And you didn’t feel embarrassed?” + </p> + <p> + “I did in the beginning—I had the same shrinkings to overcome. But I + had a tragedy behind me to push me on.” + </p> + <p> + I told her the story of my nephew, a shy and sensitive lad, who used to + come to me for consolation, and became as dear to me as my own children. + When he was seventeen he grew moody and despondent; he ran away from home + for six months and more, and then returned and was forgiven—but that + seemed to make no difference. One night he came to see me, and I tried + hard to get him to tell me what was wrong. He wouldn’t, but went away, and + several hours later I found a letter he had shoved under the table-cloth. + I read it, and rushed out and hitched up a horse and drove like mad to my + brother-in-law’s, but I got there too late, the poor boy had taken a + shot-gun to his room, and put the muzzle into his mouth, and set off the + trigger with his foot. In the letter he told me what was the matter—he + had got into trouble with a woman of the town, and had caught syphilis. He + had gone away and tried to get cured, but had fallen into the hands of a + quack, who had taken all his money and left his health worse than ever, so + in despair and shame the poor boy had shot his head off. + </p> + <p> + I paused, uncertain if Sylvia would understand the story. “Do you know + what syphilis is?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose—I have heard of what we call a ‘bad disease’” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a very bad disease. But if the words convey to you that it’s a + disease that bad people get, I should tell you that most men take the + chance of getting it; yet they are cruel enough to despise those upon whom + the ill-luck falls. My poor nephew had been utterly ignorant—I found + out that from his father, too late. An instinct had awakened in him of + which he knew absolutely nothing; his companions had taught him what it + meant, and he had followed their lead. And then had come the horror and + the shame—and some vile, ignorant wretch to trade upon it, and cast + the boy off when he was penniless. So he had come home again, with his + gnawing secret; I pictured him wandering about, trying to make up his mind + to confide in me, wavering between that and the horrible deed he did.” + </p> + <p> + I stopped, because even to this day I cannot tell the story without tears. + I cannot keep a picture of the boy in my room, because of the + self-reproaches that haunt me. “You can understand,” I said to Sylvia, “I + never could forget such a lesson. I swore a vow over the poor lad’s body, + that I would never let a boy or girl that I could reach go out in + ignorance into the world. I read up on the subject, and for a while I was + a sort of fanatic—I made people talk, young people and old people. I + broke down the taboos wherever I went, and while I shocked a good many, I + knew that I helped a good many more.” + </p> + <p> + All that was, of course, inconceivable to Sylvia. How curious was the + contrast of her one experience in the matter of venereal disease. She told + me how she had been instrumental in making a match between her friend, + Harriet Atkinson and a young scion of an ancient and haughty family of + Charleston, and how after the marriage her friend’s health had begun to + give way, until now she was an utter wreck, living alone in a dilapidated + antebellum mansion, seeing no one but negro servants, and praying for + death to relieve her of her misery. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I don’t really know,” said Sylvia. “Perhaps it was this—this + disease that you speak of. None of my people would tell me—I doubt + if they really know themselves. It was just before my own wedding, so you + can understand it had a painful effect upon me. It happened that I read + something in a magazine, and I thought that—that possibly my fiancée—that + someone ought to ask him, you understand—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and the blood was crimson in her cheeks, with the memory of + her old excitement, and some fresh excitement added to it. There are + diseases of the mind as well as of the body, and one of them is called + prudery. + </p> + <p> + “I can understand,” I said. “It was certainly your right to be reassured + on such a point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I tried to talk to my Aunt Varina about it; then I wrote to Uncle + Basil, and asked him to write to Douglas. At first he refused—he + only consented to do it when I threatened to go to my father.” + </p> + <p> + “What came of it in the end?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my uncle wrote, and Douglas answered very kindly that he understood, + and that it was all right—I had nothing to fear. I never expected to + mention the incident to anyone again.” + </p> + <p> + “Lots of people have mentioned such things to me,” I responded, to + reassure her. Then after a pause: “Tell me, how was it, if you didn’t know + the meaning of marriage, how could you connect the disease with it?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, gazing with the wide-open, innocent eyes: “I had no idea how + people gave it to each other. I thought maybe they got it by kissing.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself again: The horror of this superstition of prudery! Can + one think of anything more destructive to life than the placing of a taboo + upon such matters? Here is the whole of the future at stake—the + health, the sanity, the very existence of the race. And what fiend has + been able to contrive it that we feel like criminals when we mention the + subject? + </p> + <p> + 23. Our intimacy progressed, and the time came when Sylvia told me about + her marriage. She had accepted Douglas van Tuiver because she had lost + Frank Shirley, and her heart was broken. She could never imagine herself + loving any other man; and not knowing exactly what marriage meant, it had + been easier for her to think of her family, and to follow their guidance. + They had told her that love would come; Douglas had implored her to give + him a chance to teach her to love him. She had considered what she could + do with his money—both for her home-people and for those she spoke + of vaguely as “the poor.” But now she was making the discovery that she + could not do very much for these “poor.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t that my husband is mean,” she said. “On the contrary, the + slightest hint will bring me any worldly thing I want. I have homes in + half a dozen parts of America—I have <i>carte blanche</i> to open + accounts in two hemispheres. If any of my people need money I can get it; + but if I want it for myself, he asks me what I’m doing with it—and + so I run into the stone-wall of his ideas.” + </p> + <p> + At first the colliding with this wall had merely pained and bewildered + her. But now the combination of Veblen and myself had helped her to + realize what it meant. Douglas van Tuiver spent his money upon a definite + system: whatever went to the maintaining of his social position, whatever + added to the glory, prestige and power of the van Tuiver name—that + money was well-spent; while money spent to any other end was money wasted—and + this included all ideas and “causes.” And when the master of the house + knew that his money was being wasted, it troubled him. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t until after I married him that I realized how idle his life + is,” she remarked. “At home all the men have something to do, running + their plantations, or getting elected to some office. But Douglas never + does anything that I can possibly think is useful.” + </p> + <p> + His fortune was invested in New York City real-estate, she went on to + explain. There was an office, with a small army of clerks and agents to + attend to it—a machine which had been built up and handed on to him + by his ancestors. It sufficed if he dropped in for an hour or two once a + week when he was in the city, and signed a batch of documents now and then + when he was away. His life was spent in the company of people whom the + social system had similarly deprived of duties; and they had, by + generations of experiment, built up for themselves a new set of duties, a + life which was wholly without relationship to reality. Into this unreal + existence Sylvia had married, and it was like a current sweeping her in + its course. So long as she went with it, all was well; but let her try to + catch hold of something and stop, and it would tear her loose and almost + strangle her. + </p> + <p> + As time went on, she gave me strange glimpses into this world. Her husband + did not seem really to enjoy its life. As Sylvia put it, “He takes it for + granted that he has to do all the proper things that the proper people do. + He hates to be conspicuous, he says. I point out to him that the proper + things are nearly always conspicuous, but he replies that to fail to do + them would be even more conspicuous.” + </p> + <p> + It took me a long time to get really acquainted with Sylvia, because of + the extent to which this world was clamouring for her. I used to drop in + when she ‘phoned me she had half an hour. I would find her dressing for + something, and she would send her maid away, and we would talk until she + would be late for some function; and that might be a serious matter, + because somebody would feel slighted. She was always “on pins and needles” + over such questions of precedent; it seemed as if everybody in her world + must be watching everybody else. There was a whole elaborate science of + how to treat the people you met, so that they would not feel slighted—or + so that they would feel slighted, according to circumstances. + </p> + <p> + To the enjoyment of such a life it was essential that the person should + believe in it. Douglas van Tuiver did believe in it; it was his religion, + the only one he had. (Churchman as he was, his church was a part of the + social routine.) He was proud of Sylvia, and apparently satisfied when he + could take her at his side; and Sylvia went, because she was his wife, and + that was what wives were for. She had tried her best to be happy; she had + told herself that she <i>was</i> happy yet all the time realizing that a + woman who is really happy does not have to tell herself. + </p> + <p> + Earlier in life she had quaffed and enjoyed the wine of applause. I + recollect vividly her telling me of the lure her beauty had been to her—the + most terrible temptation that could come to a woman. “I walk into a + brilliant room, and I feel the thrill of admiration that goes through the + crowd. I have a sudden sense of my own physical perfection—a glow + all over me! I draw a deep breath—I feel a surge of exaltation. I + say, ‘I am victorious—I can command! I have this supreme crown of + womanly grace—I am all-powerful with it—the world is mine!’” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke the rapture was in her voice, and I looked at her—and + yes, she was beautiful! The supreme crown was hers! + </p> + <p> + “I see other beautiful women,” she went on—and swift anger came into + her voice. “I see what they are doing with this power! Gratifying their + vanity—turning men into slaves of their whim! Squandering money upon + empty pleasures—and with the dreadful plague of poverty spreading in + the world! I used to go to my father, ‘Oh, papa, why must there be so many + poor people? Why should we have servants—why should they have to + wait on me, and I do nothing for them?’ He would try to explain to me that + it was the way of Nature. Mamma would tell me it was the will of the Lord—‘The + poor ye have always with you’—‘Servants, obey your masters’—and + so on. But in spite of the Bible texts, I felt guilty. And now I come to + Douglas with the same plea—and it only makes him angry! He has been + to college and has a lot of scientific phrases—he tells me it’s ‘the + struggle for existence,’ ‘the elimination of the unfit’—and so on. I + say to him, ‘First we make people unfit, and then we have to eliminate + them.’ He cannot see why I do not accept what learned people tell me—why + I persist in questioning and suffering.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and then added, “It’s as if he were afraid I might find out + something he doesn’t want me to! He’s made me give him a promise that I + won’t see Mrs. Frothingham again!” And she laughed. “I haven’t told him + about you!” + </p> + <p> + I answered, needless to say, that I hoped she would keep the secret! + </p> + <p> + 24. All this time I was busy with my child-labour work. We had an + important bill before the legislature that session, and I was doing what I + could to work up sentiment for it. I talked at every gathering where I + could get a hearing; I wrote letters to newspapers; I sent literature to + lists of names. I racked my mind for new schemes, and naturally, at such + times, I could not help thinking of Sylvia. How much she could do, if only + she would! + </p> + <p> + I spared no one, least of all myself, and so it was not easy to spare her. + The fact that I had met her was the gossip of the office, and everybody + was waiting for something to happen. “How about Mrs. van Tuiver?” my + “chief” would ask, at intervals. “If she would <i>only</i> go on our press + committee” my stenographer would sigh. + </p> + <p> + The time came when our bill was in committee, a place of peril for bills. + I went to Albany to see what could be done. I met half a hundred + legislators, of whom perhaps half-a-dozen had some human interest in my + subject; the rest, well, it was discouraging. Where was the force that + would stir them, make them forget their own particular little grafts, and + serve the public welfare in defiance to hostile interests? + </p> + <p> + Where was it? I came back to New York to look for it, and after a blue + luncheon with the members of our committee, I came away with my mind made + up—I would sacrifice my Sylvia to this desperate emergency. + </p> + <p> + I knew just what I had to do. So far she had heard speeches about social + wrongs, or read books about them; she had never been face to face with the + reality of them. Now I persuaded her to take a morning off, and see some + of the sights of the underworld of toil. We foreswore the royal car, and + likewise the royal furs and velvets; she garbed herself in plain appearing + dark blue and went down town in the Subway like common mortals, visiting + paper-box factories and flower factories, tenement homes where whole + families sat pasting toys and gimcracks for fourteen or sixteen hours a + day, and still could not buy enough food to make full-sized men and women + of them. + </p> + <p> + She was Dante, and I was Virgil, our inferno was an endless procession of + tortured faces—faces of women, haggard and mournful, faces of little + children, starved and stunted, dulled and dumb. Several times we stopped + to talk with these people—one little Jewess girl I knew whose three + tiny sisters had been roasted alive in a sweatshop fire. This child had + jumped from a fourth-story window, and been miraculously caught by a + fireman. She said that some man had started the fire, and been caught, but + the police had let him get away. So I had to explain to Sylvia that + curious bye-product (sic) of the profit system known as the “Arson Trust.” + Authorities estimated that incendiarism was responsible for the + destruction of a quarter of a billion dollars worth of property in America + every year. So, of course, the business of starting fires was a paying + one, and the “fire-bug,” like the “cadet” and the dive-keeper, was a part + of the “system.” So it was quite a possible thing that the man who had + burned up this little girl’s three sisters might have been allowed to + escape. + </p> + <p> + I happened to say this in the little girl’s hearing, and I saw her pitiful + strained eyes fixed upon Sylvia. Perhaps this lovely, soft-voiced lady was + a fairy god-mother, come to free her sisters from an evil spell and to + punish the wicked criminal! I saw Sylvia turn her head away, and search + for her handkerchief; as we groped our way down the dark stairs, she + caught my hand, whispering: “Oh, my God! my God!” + </p> + <p> + It had even more effect than I had intended; not only did she say that she + would do something—anything that would be of use—but she told + me as we rode back home that her mind was made up to stop the squandering + of her husband’s money. He had been planning a costume ball for a couple + of months later, an event which would keep the van Tuiver name in + condition, and would mean that he and other people would spend many + hundreds of thousands of dollars. As we rode home in the roaring Subway, + Sylvia sat beside me, erect and tense, saying that if the ball were given, + it would be without the presence of the hostess. + </p> + <p> + I struck while the iron was hot, and got her permission to put her name + upon our committee list. She said, moreover, that she would get some free + time, and be more than a mere name to us. What were the duties of a member + of our committee? + </p> + <p> + “First,” I said, “to know the facts about child-labour, as you have seen + them to-day, and second, to help other people to know.” + </p> + <p> + “And how is that to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for instance, there is that hearing before the legislative + committee. You remember I suggested that you appear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said in a low voice. I could almost hear the words that were in + her mind: “What would <i>he</i> say?” + </p> + <p> + 25. Sylvia’s name went upon our letter-heads and other literature, and + almost at once things began to happen. In a day or two there came a + reporter, saying he had noticed her name. Was it true that she had become + interested in our work? Would I please give him some particulars, as the + public would naturally want to know. + </p> + <p> + I admitted that Mrs. van Tuiver had joined the committee; she approved of + our work and desired to further it. That was all. He asked: Would she give + an interview? And I answered that I was sure she would not. Then would I + tell something about how she had come to be interested in the work? It was + a chance to assist our propaganda, added the reporter, diplomatically. + </p> + <p> + I retired to another room, and got Sylvia upon the ‘phone, “The time has + come for you to take the plunge,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I don’t want to be in the papers!” she cried “Surely, you + wouldn’t advise it!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how you can avoid having something appear. Your name is given + out, and if the man can’t get anything else, he’ll take our literature, + and write up your doings out of his imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “And they’ll print my picture with it!” she exclaimed. I could not help + laughing. “It’s quite possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what will my husband do? He’ll say ‘I told you so!’” + </p> + <p> + It is a hard thing to have one’s husband say that, as I knew by bitter + experience. But I did not think that reason enough for giving up. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have time to think it over,” said Sylvia. “Get him to wait till + to-morrow, and meantime I can see you.” + </p> + <p> + So it was arranged. I think I told Sylvia the truth when I said that I had + never before heard of a committee member who was unwilling to have his + purposes discussed in the newspapers. To influence newspapers was one of + the main purposes of committees, and I did not see how she could expect + either editors or readers to take any other view. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell the man about your trip down town,” I suggested, “then I can + go on to discuss the bill and how it bears on the evils you saw. Such a + statement can’t possibly do you harm.” + </p> + <p> + She consented, but with the understanding that she was not to be quoted + directly. “And don’t let them make me picturesque!” she exclaimed. “That’s + what my husband seems most to dread.” + </p> + <p> + I wondered if he didn’t think she was picturesque, when she sat in a + splendid, shining coach, and took part in a public parade through Central + Park. But I did not say this. I went off, and swore my reporter to abstain + from the “human touch,” and he promised and kept his word. There appeared + next morning a dignified “write-up” of Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver’s interest + in child-labour reform. Quoting me, it described some of the places she + had visited, and some of the sights which had shocked her; it went on to + tell about our committee and its work, the status of our bill in the + legislature, the need of activity on the part of our friends if the + measure was to be forced through at this session. It was a splendid + “boost” for our work, and everyone in the office was in raptures over it. + The social revolution was at hand! thought my young stenographer. + </p> + <p> + But the trouble with this business of publicity is that, however carefully + you control your interviewer, you cannot control the others who use his + material. The “afternoon men” came round for more details, and they made + it clear that it was personal details they wanted. And when I side-stepped + their questions, they went off and made up answers to suit themselves, and + printed Sylvia’s pictures, together with photographs of child-workers + taken from our pamphlets. + </p> + <p> + I called Sylvia up while she was dressing for dinner, to explain that I + was not responsible for any of this picturesqueness. “Oh, perhaps I am to + blame myself!” she exclaimed. “I think I interviewed a reporter.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman sent up her card—she told the footman she was a friend of + mine. And I thought—I couldn’t be sure if I’d met her—so I + went and saw her. She said she’d met me at Mrs. Harold Cliveden’s, and she + began to talk to me about child-labour, and this and that plan she had, + and what did I think of them, and suddenly it flashed over me: ‘Maybe this + is a reporter playing a trick on me!’” + </p> + <p> + I hurried out before breakfast next morning and got all the papers, to see + what this enterprising lady had done. There was nothing, so I reflected + that probably she had been a “Sunday” lady. + </p> + <p> + But then, when I reached my office, the ‘phone rang, and I heard the voice + of Sylvia: “Mary, something perfectly dreadful has happened!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell you over the ‘phone, but a certain person is furiously + angry. Can I see you if I come down right away?” + </p> + <p> + 26. Such terrors as these were unguessed by me in the days of my + obscurity. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, uneasy also, lies the + wife of that head, and the best friend of the wife. I dismissed my + stenographer, and spent ten or fifteen restless minutes until Sylvia + appeared. + </p> + <p> + Her story was quickly told. A couple of hours ago the acting-manager of + Mr. van Tuiver’s office had telephoned to ask if he might call upon a + matter of importance. He had come. Naturally, he had the most extreme + reluctance to say anything which might seem to criticise the activities of + Mr. van Tuiver’s wife, but there was something in the account in the + newspapers which should be brought to her husband’s attention. The + articles gave the names and locations of a number of firms in whose + factories it was alleged that Mrs. van Tuiver had found unsatisfactory + conditions, and it happened that two of these firms were located in + premises which belonged to the van Tuiver estates! + </p> + <p> + A story coming very close to melodrama, I perceived. I sat dismayed at + what I had done. “Of course, dear girl,” I said, at last, “you understand + that I had no idea who owned these buildings.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t say that!” exclaimed Sylvia. “I am the one who should have + known!” + </p> + <p> + Then for a long time I sat still and let her suffer. “Tenement + sweat-shops! Little children in factories!” I heard her whisper. + </p> + <p> + At last I put my hand on hers. “I tried to put it off for a while,” I + said. “But I knew it would have to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of me!” she exclaimed, “going about scolding other people for the + way they make their money! When I thought of my own, I had visions of + palatial hotels and office-buildings—everything splendid and clean!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, you’ve learned now, and you will be able to do something—” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon me suddenly, and for the first time I saw in her face the + passions of tragedy. “Do you believe I will be able to do anything? No! + Don’t have any such idea!” + </p> + <p> + I was struck dumb. She got up and began to pace the room. “Oh, don’t make + any mistake, I’ve paid for my great marriage in the last hour or two. To + think that he cares about nothing save the possibility of being found out + and made ridiculous! All his friends have been ‘muckraked,’ as he calls + it, and he has sat aloft and smiled over their plight; he was the landed + gentleman, the true aristrocrat, whom the worries of traders and + money-changers didn’t concern. Now perhaps he’s caught, and his name is to + be dragged in the mire, and it’s my flightiness, my lack of commonsense + that has done it!” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t let that trouble me,” I said. “You could not know—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s not that! It’s that I hadn’t a single courageous word to say to + him—not a hint that he ought to refuse to wring blood-money from + sweat-shops! I came away without having done it, because I couldn’t face + his anger, because it would have meant a quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I said gently, “it is possible to survive a quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t understand! We should never make it up again, I know—I + saw it in his words, in his face. He will never change to please me, no, + not even a simple thing like the business-methods of the van Tuiver + estates.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling. “My dear Sylvia! A simple thing!” + </p> + <p> + She came and sat beside me. “That’s what I want to talk about. It is time + I was growing up. It it time that I knew about these things. Tell me about + them.” + </p> + <p> + “What, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “About the methods of the van Tuiver estates, that can’t be changed to + please me. I made out one thing, we had recently paid a fine for some + infraction of the law in one of those buildings, and my husband said it + was because we had refused to pay more money to a tenement-house + inspector. I asked him: ‘Why should we pay any money at all to a + tenement-house inspector? Isn’t it bribery?’ He answered: ‘It’s a custom—the + same as you give a tip to a hotel waiter.’ Is that true?” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling. “Your husband ought to know, my dear,” I said. + </p> + <p> + I saw her compress her lips. “What is the tip for?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is to keep out of trouble with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But why can’t we keep out of trouble by obeying the law?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, sometimes the law is inconvenient, and sometimes it is + complicated and obscure. It might be that you are violating it without + knowing the fact. It might be uncertain whether you are violating it or + not, so that to settle the question would mean a lot of expense and + publicity. It might even be that the law is impossible to obey—that + it was not intended to be obeyed.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, maybe it was passed to put you at the mercy of the politicians.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she protested, “that would be blackmail.” + </p> + <p> + “The phrase,” I replied, “is ‘strike-legislation.’” + </p> + <p> + “But at least, that wouldn’t be our fault!” + </p> + <p> + “No, not unless you had begun it. It generally happens that the landlord + discovers it’s a good thing to have politicians who will work with him. + Maybe he wants his assessments lowered; maybe he wants to know where new + car lines are to go, so that he can buy intelligently; maybe he wants the + city to improve his neighbourhood; maybe he wants influence at court when + he has some heavy damage suit.” + </p> + <p> + “So we bribe everyone!” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily. You may simply wait until campaign-time, and then make + your contribution to the machine. That is the basis of the ‘System.’.” + </p> + <p> + “The ‘System ‘?” + </p> + <p> + “A semi-criminal police-force, and everything that pays tribute to it; the + saloon and the dive, the gambling hell the white-slave market, and the + Arson trust.” + </p> + <p> + I saw a wild look in her eyes. “Tell me, do you <i>know</i> that all these + things are true? Or are you only guessing about them?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia,” I answered, “you said it was time you grew up. For the + present I will tell you this: Several months before I met you, I made a + speech in which I named some of the organised forces of evil in the city. + One was Tammany Hall, and another was the Traction Trust, and another was + the Trinity Church Corporation, and yet another was the van Tuiver + estates.” + </p> + <p> + 27. The following Sunday there appeared a “magazine story” of an interview + with the infinitely beautiful young wife of the infinitely rich Mr. + Douglas van Tuiver, in which the views of the wife on the subject of + child-labour were liberally interlarded with descriptions of her + reception-room and her morning-gown. But mere picturesqueness by that time + had been pretty well discounted in our minds. So long as the article did + not say anything about the ownership of child-labour tenements! + </p> + <p> + I did not see Sylvia for several weeks after that. I took it for granted + that she would want some time to get herself together and make up her mind + about the future. I did not feel anxious; the seed had sprouted, and I + felt sure it would continue to grow. + </p> + <p> + Then one day she called me up, asking if I could come to see her. I + suggested that afternoon, and she said she was having tea with some people + at the Palace Hotel, and could I come there just after tea-time? I + remember the place and the hour, because of the curious adventure into + which I got myself. One hears the saying, when unexpected encounters take + place, “How small the world is!” But I thought the world was growing + really too small when I went into a hotel tea-room to wait for Sylvia, and + found myself face to face with Claire Lepage! + </p> + <p> + The place appointed had been the “orange-room”; I stood in the door-way, + sweeping the place with my eyes, and I saw Mrs. van Tuiver at the same + moment that she saw me. She was sitting at a table with several other + people and she nodded, and I took a seat to wait. From my position I could + watch her, in animated conversation; and she could send me a smile now and + then. So I was decidedly startled when I heard a voice, “Why, how do you + do?” and looked up and saw Claire holding out her hand to me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for heaven’s sake!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t come to see me any more,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no—no, I’ve been busy of late.” So much I managed to + ejaculate, in spite of my confusion. + </p> + <p> + “You seem surprised to see me,” she remarked—observant as usual, and + sensitive to other people’s attitude to her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, naturally,” I said. And then, recollecting that it was not in the + least natural—since she spent a good deal of her time in such places—I + added, “I was looking for someone else.” + </p> + <p> + “May I do in the meantime?” she inquired, taking a seat beside me. “What + are you so busy about?” + </p> + <p> + “My child-labour work,” I answered. Then, in an instant, I was sorry for + the words, thinking she must have read about Sylvia’s activities. I did + not want her to know that I had met Sylvia, for it would mean a flood of + questions, which I did not want to answer—nor yet to refuse to + answer. + </p> + <p> + But my fear was needless. “I’ve been out of town,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Whereabouts?” I asked, making conversation. + </p> + <p> + “A little trip to Bermuda.” + </p> + <p> + My mind was busy with the problem of getting rid of her. It would be + intolerable to have Sylvia come up to us; it was intolerable to know that + they were in sight of each other. + </p> + <p> + Even as the thought came to me, however, I saw Claire start. “Look!” she + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That woman there—in the green velvet! The fourth table.” + </p> + <p> + “I see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who she is?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” (I remembered Lady Dee’s maxim about lying!) + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Castleman!” whispered Claire. (She always referred to her thus—seeming + to say, “I’m as much van Tuiver as she is!”) + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” I asked—in order to say something. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen her a score of times. I seem to be always running into her. + That’s Freddie Atkins she’s talking to.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I know most of the men I see her with. But I have to walk by as if I’d + never seen them. A queer world we live in, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + I could assent cordially to that proposition. “Listen,” I broke in, + quickly. “Have you got anything to do? If not, come down to the Royalty + and have tea with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not have it here?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been waiting for someone from there, and I have to leave a message. + Then I’ll be free.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, to my vast relief, and we walked out. I could feel Sylvia’s eyes + following me; but I dared not try to send her a message—I would have + to make up some explanation afterwards. “Who was your well-dressed + friend?” I could imagine her asking; but my mind was more concerned with + the vision of what would happen if, in full sight of her companion, Mr. + Freddie Atkins, she were to rise and walk over to Claire and myself! + </p> + <p> + 28. Seated in the palm-room of the other hotel, I sipped a cup of tea + which I felt I had earned, while Claire had a little glass of the + fancy-coloured liquids which the ladies in these places affect. The room + was an aviary, with tropical plants and splashing fountains—and + birds of many gorgeous hues; I gazed from one to another of the splendid + creatures, wondering how many of them were paying for their plumage in the + same way as my present companion. It would have taken a more practiced eye + than mine to say which, for if I had been asked, I would have taken Claire + for a diplomat’s wife. She had not less than a thousand dollars’ worth of + raiment upon her, and its style made clear to all the world the fact that + it had not been saved over from a previous season of prosperity. She was a + fine creature, who could carry any amount of sail; with her bold, black + eyes she looked thoroughly competent, and it was hard to believe in the + fundamental softness of her character. + </p> + <p> + I sat, looking about me, annoyed at having missed Sylvia, and only half + listening to Claire. But suddenly she brought me to attention. “Well,” she + said, “I’ve met him.” + </p> + <p> + “Met whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at her. “Douglas van Tuiver?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded; and I suppressed a cry. + </p> + <p> + “I told you he’d come back,” she added, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You mean he came to see you?” + </p> + <p> + I could not hide my concern. But there was no need to, for it flattered + Claire’s vanity. “No—not yet, but he will. I met him at Jack + Taylor’s—at a supper-party.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he know you were to be there?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But he didn’t leave when he saw me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. I could not trust myself to say anything. But Claire + had no intention of leaving me curious. “I don’t think he’s happy with + her,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, several things. I know him, you know. He wouldn’t say he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he didn’t want to discuss it with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—not that. He isn’t reserved with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think it was dangerous to discuss one’s wife under such + circumstances,” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + Claire laughed also. “You should have heard what Jack had to say about his + wife! She’s down at Palm Beach.” + </p> + <p> + “She’d better come home,” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “He was telling what a dance she leads him; she raises Cain if a woman + looks at him—and she damns every woman he meets before the woman has + a chance to look. Jack said marriage was hell—just hell. Reggie + Channing thought it was like a pair of old slippers that you got used to.” + Jack laughed and answered, “You’re at the stage where you think you can + solve the marriage problem by deceiving your wife!” + </p> + <p> + I made no comment. Claire sat for a while, busy with her thoughts; then + she repeated, “He wouldn’t say he was happy! And he misses me, too. When + he was going, I held his hand, and said: ‘Well, Douglas, how goes it?’” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” I asked; but she would not say any more. + </p> + <p> + I waited a while, and then began, “Claire, let him alone. Give them a + chance to be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” she demanded, in a voice of hostility. + </p> + <p> + “She never harmed you,” I said. I knew I was being foolish, but I would do + what I could. + </p> + <p> + “She took him away from me, didn’t she?” And Claire’s eyes were suddenly + alight with the hatred of her outcast class. “Why did she get him? Why is + she Mrs. van Tuiver, and I nobody? Because her father was rich, because + she had power and position, while I had to scratch for myself in the + world. Is that true, or isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + I could not deny that it might be part of the truth. “But they’re married + now,” I said, “and he loves her.” + </p> + <p> + “He loves me, too. And I love him still, in spite of the way he’s treated + me. He’s the only man I ever really loved. Do you think I’m going off and + hide in a hole, while she spends his money and plays the princess up and + down the Avenue? Not much!” + </p> + <p> + I fell silent. Should I set out upon another effort at “moulding water”? + Should I give Claire one more scolding—tell her, perhaps, how her + very features were becoming hard and ugly, as a result of the feelings she + was harbouring? Should I recall the pretences of generosity and dignity + she had made when we first met? I might have attempted this—but + something held me back. After all, the one person who could decide this + issue was Douglas van Tuiver. + </p> + <p> + I rose. “Well, I have to be going. But I’ll drop round now and then, and + see what success you have.” + </p> + <p> + She became suddenly important. “Maybe I won’t tell!” + </p> + <p> + To which I answered, indifferently, “All right, it’s your secret.” But I + went off without much worry over that part of it. Claire must have some + one to whom to recount her troubles—or her triumphs, as the case + might be. + </p> + <p> + 29. I had my talk with Sylvia a day or two later, and made my excuse—a + friend from the West who had been going out of town in a few hours later. + </p> + <p> + The seed had been growing, I found. Ever since we had last met, her life + had consisted of arguments over the costume-ball on which her husband had + set his heart, and at which she had refused to play the hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, he’s right about one thing,” she remarked. “We can’t stay in + New York unless we give some big affair. Everyone expects it, and there is + no explanation except one he could not offer.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve made a big breach in your life, Sylvia,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t all you. This unhappiness has been in me—it’s been like a + boil, and you’ve been the poultice.” (She had four younger brothers and + sisters, so these domestic similes came naturally.) + </p> + <p> + “Boils,” I remarked, “are disfiguring, when they come to a head.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. “How is your child-labour bill?” she asked, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I see a letter in the paper saying it had been referred to a + sub-committee, some trick to suppress it for this session?” + </p> + <p> + I could not answer. I had been hoping she had not seen that letter. + </p> + <p> + “If I were to come forward now,” she said, “I could possibly block that + move, couldn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + Still I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “If I were to take a bold stand—I mean if I were to speak at a + public meeting, and denounce the move.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you could,” I had to admit. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she sat with her head bowed. “The children will have to + wait,” she said, at last, half to herself. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I answered (What else was there to answer?) “the children have + waited a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate to turn back—to have you say I’m a coward—” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t say that, Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be too kind, no doubt, but that will be the truth.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to reassure her. But the acids I had used—intended for + tougher skins than hers—had burned into the very bone, and now it + was not possible to stop their action. “I must make you understand,” she + said, “how serious a thing it seems to me for a wife to stand out against + her husband. I’ve been brought up to feel that it was the most terrible + thing a woman could do.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and when she went on again her face was set like one enduring + pain. “So this is the decision to which I have come. If I do anything of a + public nature now, I drive my husband from me; on the other hand, if I + take a little time, I may be able to save the situation. I need to educate + myself, and I’m hoping I may be able to educate him at the same time. If I + can get him to read something—if it’s only a few paragraphs everyday—I + may gradually change his point of view, so that he will tolerate what I + believe. At any rate, I ought to try; I am sure that is the wise and kind + and fair thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do about the ball?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to take him away, out of this rush and distraction, this + dressing and undressing, hurrying about meeting people and chattering + about nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “He is willing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; in fact, he suggested it himself. He thinks my mind is turned, with + all the things I’ve been reading, and with Mrs. Frothingham, and Mrs. + Allison, and the rest. He hopes that if I go away, I may quiet down and + come to my senses. We have a good excuse. I have to think of my health + just now—-” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and looked away from my eyes. I saw the colour spreading in a + slow wave over her cheeks; it was like those tints of early dawn that are + so ravishing to the souls of poets. “In four or five months from now—-” + And she stopped again. + </p> + <p> + I put my big hand gently over her small one. “I have three children of my + own,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “So,” she went on, “it won’t seem so unreasonable. Some people know, and + the rest will guess, and there won’t be any talk—I mean, such as + there would be if it was rumoured that Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver had got + interested in Socialism, and refused to spend her husband’s money.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” I replied. “It’s quite the most sensible thing, and I’m + glad you’ve found a way out. I shall miss you, of course, but we can write + each other long letters. Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not absolutely sure. Douglas suggests a cruise in the West Indies, + but I think I should rather be settled in one place. He has a lovely house + in the mountains of North Carolina, and wants me to go there; but it’s a + show-place, with rich homes all round, and I know I’d soon be in a social + whirl. I thought of the camp in the Adirondacks. It would be glorious to + see the real woods in winter; but I lose my nerve when I think of the cold—I + was brought up in a warm place.” + </p> + <p> + “A ‘camp’ sounds rather primitive for one in your condition,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “That’s because you haven’t been there. In reality it’s a big house, with + twenty-five rooms, and steam-heat and electric lights, and half a dozen + men to take care of it when it’s empty—as it has been for several + years.” + </p> + <p> + I smiled—for I could read her thought. “Are you going to be unhappy + because you can’t occupy all your husband’s homes?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s one other I prefer,” she continued, unwilling to be made to + smile. “They call it a ‘fishing lodge,’ and it’s down in the Florida Keys. + They’re putting a railroad through there, but meantime you can only get to + it by a launch. From the pictures, it’s the most heavenly spot imaginable. + Fancy running about those wonderful green waters in a motor-boat!” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds quite alluring,” I replied. “But isn’t it remote for you?” + </p> + <p> + “We’re not so very far from Key West; and my husband means to have a + physician with us in any case. The advantage of being in a small place is + that we couldn’t entertain if we wanted to. I can have my Aunt Varina come + to stay with me, a dear, sweet soul who loves me devotedly; and then if I + find I have to have some new ideas, perhaps you can come—-” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think your husband would favour that,” I said. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand out to me in a quick gesture. “I don’t mean to give up + our friendship! I want you to understand, I intend to go on studying and + growing. I am doing what he asked me—it’s right that I should think + of his wishes, and of the health of my child. But the child will be + growing up, and sooner or later my husband must grant me the right to + think, to have a life of my own. You must stand by me and help me, + whatever happens.” + </p> + <p> + I gave her my hand on that, and so we parted—for some time, as it + proved. I went up to Albany once more, in a last futile effort to save our + precious bill; and while I was there I got a note from her, saying that + she was leaving for the Florida Keys. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. SYLVIA AS MOTHER + </h2> + <p> + For three months after this I had nothing but letters from Sylvia. She + proved to be an excellent letter-writer, full of verve and colour. I would + not say that she poured out her soul to me, but she gave me glimpses of + her states of mind, and the progress of her domestic drama. + </p> + <p> + First, she described the place to which she had come; a ravishing spot, + where any woman ought to be happy. It was a little island, fringed with a + border of cocoanut-palms, which rustled and whispered day and night in the + breeze. It was covered with tropical foliage, and there was a long, + rambling bungalow, with screened “galleries,” and a beach of hard white + sand in front. The water was blue, dazzling with sunshine, and dotted with + distant green islands; all of it, air, water, and islands, were warm. “I + don’t realize till I get here,” she said, “I am never really happy in the + North. I wrap myself against the assaults of a cruel enemy. But here I am + at home; I cast off my furs, I stretch out my arms, I bloom. I believe I + shall quite cease to think for a while—I shall forget all storms and + troubles, and bask on the sand like a lizard. + </p> + <p> + “And the water! Mary, you cannot imagine such water; why should it be blue + on top, and green when you look down into it? I have a little skiff of my + own in which I drift, and I have been happy for hours, studying the + bottom; you see every colour of the rainbow, and all as clear as in an + aquarium. I have been fishing, too, and have caught a tarpon. That is + supposed to be a great adventure, and it really is quite thrilling to feel + the monstrous creature struggling with you—though, of course, my + arms soon gave out, and I had to turn him over to my husband. This is one + of the famous fishing-grounds of the world, and I am glad of that, because + it will keep the men happy while I enjoy the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “I have discovered a fascinating diversion,” she wrote, in a second + letter. “I make them take me in the launch to one of the loneliest of the + keys; they go off to fish, and I have the whole day to myself, and am as + happy as a child on a picnic! I roam the beach, I take off my shoes and + stockings—there are no newspaper reporters snapping pictures. I dare + not go far in, for there are huge black creatures with dangerous stinging + tails; they rush away in a cloud of sand when I approach, but the thought + of stepping upon one by accident is terrifying. However, I let the little + wavelets wash round my toes, and I try to grab little fish, and I pick up + lovely shells; and then I go on, and I see a huge turtle waddling to the + water, and I dash up, and would stop him if I dared, and then I find his + eggs—such an adventure! + </p> + <p> + “I am the prey of strange appetites and cravings. I have a delicious + luncheon with me, but suddenly the one thing in the world I want to eat is + turtle-eggs. I have no matches with me, and I do not know how to build a + fire like the Indians, so I have to hide the eggs back in the sand until + to-morrow. I hope the turtle does not move them—and that I have not + lost my craving in the meantime! + </p> + <p> + “Then I go exploring inland. These islands were once the haunts of + pirates, so I may imagine all sorts of romantic things. What I find are + lemon-trees. I do not know if they are wild, or if the key was once + cultivated; the lemons are huge in size, and nearly all skin, but the + flavour is delicious. Turtle-eggs with wild lemon-juice! And then I go on + and come to a mangrove-swamp—dark and forbidding, a grisly place; + you imagine the trees are in torment, with limbs and roots tangled like + writhing serpents. I tiptoe in a little way, and then get frightened, and + run back to the beach. + </p> + <p> + “I see on the sand a mysterious little yellow creature, running like the + wind; I make a dash, and get between him and his hole; and so he stands, + crouching on guard, staring at me, and I at him. He is some sort of crab, + but he stands on two legs like a caricature of a man; he has two big + weapons upraised for battle, and staring black eyes stuck out on long + tubes. He is an uncanny thing to look at; but then suddenly the idea + comes, How do I seem to him? I realize that he is alive; a tiny mite of + hunger for life, of fear and resolution. I think, How lonely he must be! + And I want to tell him that I love him, and would not hurt him for the + world; but I have no way to make him understand me, and all I can do is to + go away and leave him. I go, thinking what a strange place the world is, + with so many living things, each shut away apart by himself, unable to + understand the others or make the others understand him. This is what is + called philosophy, is it not? Tell me some books where these things are + explained.... + </p> + <p> + “I am reading all you sent me. When I grew tired of exploring the key, I + lay down in the shade of a palm-tree, and read—guess what? ‘Number + Five John Street’! So all this loveliness vanished, and I was back in the + world’s nightmare. An extraordinary book! I decided that it would be good + for my husband, so I read him a few paragraphs; but I found that it only + irritated him. He wants me to rest, he says—he can’t see why I’ve + come away to the Florida Keys to read about the slums of London. + </p> + <p> + “My hope of gradually influencing his mind has led to a rather appalling + discovery—that he has the same intention as regards me! He too has + brought a selection of books, and reads to me a few pages every day, and + explains what they mean. He calls <i>this</i> resting! I am no match for + him, of course—I never realized more keenly the worthlessness of my + education. But I see in a general way where his arguments tend—that + life is something that has grown, and is not in the power of men to + change; but even if he could convince me of this, I should not find it a + source of joy. I have a feeling always that if you were here, you would + know something to answer. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is that I am so pained by the conflict between us that I cannot + argue at all. I find myself wondering what our marriage would have been + like if we had discovered that we had the same ideas and interests. There + are days and nights at a time when I tell myself that I ought to believe + what my husband believes, that I ought never have allowed myself to think + of anything else. But that really won’t do as a life-programme; I tried it + years ago with my dear mother and father. Did I ever tell you that my + mother is firmly convinced in her heart that I am to suffer eternally in a + real hell of fire because I do not believe certain things about the Bible? + She still has visions of it—though not so bad since she turned me + over to a husband! + </p> + <p> + “Now it is my husband who is worried about my ideas. He is reading a book + by Burke, a well-known old writer. The book deals with English history, + which I don’t know much about, but I see that it resents modern changes, + and the whole spirit of change. And Mary, why can’t I feel that way? I + really ought to love those old and stately things, I ought to be reverent + to the past; I was brought up that way. Sometimes I tremble when I realize + how very flippant and cynical I am. I seem to see the wrong side of + everything, so that I couldn’t believe in it if I wanted to!” + </p> + <p> + 2. Her letters were full of the wonders of Nature about her. There was a + snow-white egret who made his home upon her island; she watched his + fishing operations, and meant to find his nest, so as to watch his young. + The men made a trip into the Everglades, and brought back wonder-tales of + flocks of flamingoes making scarlet clouds in the sky, huge colonies of + birds’ nests crowded like a city. They had brought home a young one, which + screamed all day to be stuffed with fish. + </p> + <p> + A cousin of Sylvia’s, Harley Chilton, had come to visit her. He had taken + van Tuiver on hunting-trips during the latter’s courtship days, and now + was a good fishing-companion. He was not allowed to discover the state of + affairs between Sylvia and her husband, but he saw his cousin reading + serious books, and his contribution to the problem was to tell her that + she would get wrinkles in her face, and that even her feet would grow big, + like those of the ladies in New England. + </p> + <p> + Also, there was the young physician who kept watch over Sylvia’s health; a + dapper little man with pink and white complexion, and a brown moustache + from which he could not keep his fingers. He had a bungalow to himself, + but sometimes he went along on the launch-trips, and Sylvia thought she + observed wrinkles of amusement round his eyes whenever she differed from + her husband on the subject of Burke. She suspected this young man of not + telling all his ideas to his multi-millionaire patients, and she was + entertained by the prospect of probing him. + </p> + <p> + Then came Mrs. Varina Tuis; who since the tragic cutting of her own + domestic knot, had given her life to the service of the happier members of + the Castleman line. She was now to be companion and counsellor to Sylvia; + and on the very day of her arrival she discovered the chasm that was + yawning in her niece’s life. + </p> + <p> + “It’s wonderful,” wrote Sylvia, “the intuition of the Castleman women. We + were in the launch, passing one of the viaducts of the new railroad, and + Aunt Varina exclaimed, ‘What a wonderful piece of work!’ ‘Yes,’ put in my + husband, ‘but don’t let Sylvia hear you say it.’ ‘Why not?’ she asked; and + he replied, ‘She’ll tell you how many hours a day the poor Dagoes have to + work.’ That was all; but I saw Aunt Varina give a quick glance at me, and + I saw that she was not fooled by my efforts to make conversation. It was + rather horrid of Douglas, for he knows that I love these old people, and + do not want them to know about my trouble. But it is characteristic of him—when + he is annoyed he seldom tries to spare others. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as we were alone, Aunt Varina began, ‘Sylvia, my dear, what does + it mean? What have you done to worry your husband?’ + </p> + <p> + “You would be entertained if I could remember the conversation. I tried to + dodge the trouble by answering off-hand, ‘Douglas had eaten too many + turtle-eggs for luncheon ‘—this being a man-like thing, that any + dear old lady would understand. But she was too shrewd. I had to explain + to her that I was learning to think, and this sent her into a perfect + panic. + </p> + <p> + “‘You actually mean, my child, that you are thinking about subjects to + which your husband objects, and you refuse to stop when he asks you to? + Surely you must know that he has some good reason for objecting.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I suppose so,’ I said, ‘but he has not made that reason clear to me; and + certainly I have a right—’ + </p> + <p> + “She would not hear any more than that. ‘Right, Sylvia? Right? Are you + claiming the right to drive your husband from you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But surely I can’t regulate all my thinking by the fear of driving my + husband from me!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sylvia, you take my breath away. Where did you get such ideas?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But answer me, Aunt Varina—can I?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What thinking is as important to a woman as thinking how to please a + good, kind husband? What would become of her family if she no longer tried + to do this?’ + </p> + <p> + “So you see, we opened up a large subject. I know you consider me a + backward person, and you may be interested to learn that there are some to + whom I seem a terrifying rebel. Picture poor Aunt Varina, her old face + full of concern, repeating over and over, ‘My child, my child, I hope I + have come in time! Don’t scorn the advice of a woman who has paid bitterly + for her mistakes. You have a good husband, a man who loves you devotedly; + you are one of the most fortunate of women—now do not throw your + happiness away!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Aunt Varina,’ I said (I forget if I ever told you that her husband + gambled and drank, and finally committed suicide) ‘Aunt Varina, do you + really believe that every man is so anxious to get away from his wife that + it must take her whole stock of energy, her skill in diplomacy, to keep + him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sylvia,’ she answered, ‘you put things so strangely, you use such + horribly crude language, I don’t know how to talk to you!’ (That must be + your fault, Mary. I never heard such a charge before.) ‘I can only tell + you this—that the wife who permits herself to think about other + things than her duty to her husband and her children is taking a frightful + risk. She is playing with fire, Sylvia—she will realize too late + what it means to set aside the wisdom of her sex, the experience of other + women for ages and ages!’ + </p> + <p> + “So there you are, Mary! I am studying another unwritten book, the Maxims + of Aunt Varina! + </p> + <p> + “She has found the remedy for my troubles, the cure for my disease of + thought—I am to sew! I tell her that I have more clothes than I can + wear in a dozen seasons, and she answers, in an awesome voice, ‘There is + the little stranger!’ When I point out that the little stranger will be + expected to have a ‘layette’ costing many thousands of dollars, she + replies, ‘They will surely permit him to wear some of the things his + mother’s hands have made.’ So, behold me, seated on the gallery, learning + fancy stitches—and with Kautsky on the Social Revolution hidden away + in the bottom of my sewing-bag!” + </p> + <p> + 3. The weeks passed. The legislature at Albany adjourned, without regard + to our wishes; and so, like the patient spider whose web is destroyed, we + set to work upon a new one. So much money must be raised, so many articles + must be written, so many speeches delivered, so many people seized upon + and harried and wrought to a state of mind where they were dangerous to + the future career of legislators. Such is the process of social reform + under the private property régime; a process which the pure and simple + reformers imagine we shall tolerate for ever—God save us! + </p> + <p> + Sylvia asked me for the news, and I told it to her—how we had + failed, and what we had to do next. So pretty soon there came by + registered mail a little box, in which I found a diamond ring. “I cannot + ask him for money just now,” she explained, “but here is something that + has been mine from girlhood. It cost about four hundred dollars—this + for your guidance in selling it. Not a day passes that I do not see many + times that much wasted; so take it for the cause.” Queen Isabella and her + jewels! + </p> + <p> + In this letter she told me of a talk she had had with her husband on the + “woman-problem.” She had thought at first that it was going to prove a + helpful talk—he had been in a fairer mood than she was usually able + to induce. “He evaded some of my questions,” she explained, “but I don’t + think it was deliberate; it is simply the evasive attitude of mind which + the whole world takes. He says he does not think that women are inferior + to men, only that they are different; the mistake is for them to try to + become <i>like</i> men. It is the old proposition of ‘charm,’ you see. I + put that to him, and he admitted that he did like to be ‘charmed.’ + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘You wouldn’t, if you knew as much about the process as I do.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why not?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Because, it’s not an honest process. It’s not a straight way for one sex + to deal with the other.’ + </p> + <p> + “He asked what I meant by that; but then, remembering the cautions of my + great-aunt, I laughed. ‘If you are going to compel me to use the process, + you can hardly expect me to tell you the secret of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then there’s no use trying to talk,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, but there is!’ I exclaimed. ‘You admit that I have ‘charm’—dozens + of other men admitted it. And so it ought to count for something if I + declare that I know it’s not an honest thing—that it depends upon + trickery, and appeals to the worst qualities in a man. For instance, his + vanity. “Flatter him,” Lady Dee used to say. “He’ll swallow it.” And he + will—I never knew a man to refuse a compliment in my life. His love + of domination. “If you want anything, make him think that <i>he</i> wants + it!” His egotism. She had a bitter saying—I can hear the very tones + of her voice: “When in doubt, talk about HIM.” That is what is called + “charm”!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t seem to feel it,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “’ No, because now you are behind the scenes. But when you were in front, + you felt it, you can’t deny. And you would feel it again, any time I chose + to use it. But I want to know if there is not some honest way a woman can + interest a man. The question really comes to this—Can a man love a + woman for what she really is?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I should say,’ he said, ‘that it depends upon the woman.’ + </p> + <p> + “I admitted this was a plausible answer. ‘But you loved me, when I made + myself a mystery to you. But now that I am honest with you, you have made + it clear that you don’t like it, that you won’t have it. And that is the + problem that women have to face. It is a fact that the women of our family + have always ruled the men; but they’ve done it by indirection—nobody + ever thought seriously of “women’s rights” in Castleman County. But you + see, women <i>have</i> rights; and somehow or other they will fool the + men, or else the men must give up the idea that they are the superior sex, + and have the right, or the ability, to rule women.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then I saw how little he had followed me. ‘There has to be a head to the + family,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “I answered, ‘There have been cases in history of a king and queen ruling + together, and getting along very well. Why not the same thing in a + family?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s all right, so far as the things of the family are concerned. But + such affairs as business and politics are in the sphere of men; and women + cannot meddle in them without losing their best qualities as women.’ + </p> + <p> + “And so there we were. I won’t repeat his arguments, for doubtless you + have read enough anti-suffrage literature. The thing I noticed was that if + I was very tactful and patient, I could apparently carry him along with + me; but when the matter came up again, I would discover that he was back + where he had been before. A woman must accept the guidance of a man; she + must take the man’s word for the things that he understands. ‘But suppose + the man is <i>wrong?</i>’ I said; and there we stopped—there we + shall stop always, I begin to fear. I agree with him that woman should + obey man—so long as man is right!” + </p> + <p> + 4. Her letters did not all deal with this problem. In spite of the sewing, + she found time to read a number of books, and we argued about these. Then, + too, she had been probing her young doctor, and had made interesting + discoveries about him. For one thing, he was full of awe and admiration + for her; and her awakening mind found material for speculation in this. + </p> + <p> + “Here is this young man; he thinks he is a scientist, he rather prides + himself upon being cold-blooded; yet a cunning woman could twist him round + her finger. He had an unhappy love-affair when he was young, so he + confided to me; and now, in his need and loneliness, a beautiful woman is + transformed into something supernatural in his imagination—she is + like a shimmering soap-bubble, that he blows with his own breath. I know + that I could never get him to see the real truth about me; I might tell + him that I have let myself be tied up in a golden net—but he would + only marvel at my spirituality. Oh, the women I have seen trading upon the + credulity of men! And when I think how I did this myself! If men were + wise, they would give us the vote, and a share in the world’s work—anything + that would bring us out into the light of day, and break the spell of + mystery that hangs round us! + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” she wrote in another letter, “there will be trouble if you + come down here. I was telling Dr. Perrin about you, and your ideas about + fasting, and mental healing, and the rest of your fads. He got very much + excited. It seems that he takes his diploma seriously, and he’s not + willing to be taught by amateur experiments. He wanted me to take some + pills, and I refused, and I think now he blames you for it. He has found a + bond of sympathy with my husband, who proves his respect for authority by + taking whatever he is told to take. Dr. Perrin got his medical training + here in the South, and I imagine he’s ten or twenty years behind the rest + of the medical world. Douglas picked him out because he’d met him + socially. It makes no difference to me—because I don’t mean to have + any doctoring done to me!” + </p> + <p> + Then, on top of these things, would come a cry from her soul. “Mary, what + will you do if some day you get a letter from me confessing that I am not + happy? I dare not say a word to my own people. I am supposed to be at the + apex of human triumph, and I have to play that role to keep from hurting + them. I know that if my dear old father got an inkling of the truth, it + would kill him. My one real solid consolation is that I have helped him, + that I have lifted a money-burden from his life; I have done that, I tell + myself, over and over; but then I wonder, have I done anything but put the + reckoning off? I have given all his other children a new excuse for + extravagance, an impulse towards worldliness which they did not need. + </p> + <p> + “There is my sister Celeste, for example. I don’t think I have told you + about her. She made her <i>début</i> last fall, and was coming up to New + York to stay with me this winter. She had it all arranged in her mind to + make a rich marriage; I was to give her the <i>entrée</i>—and now I + have been selfish, and thought of my own desires, and gone away. Can I say + to her, Be warned by me, I have made a great match, and it has not brought + me happiness? She would not understand, she would say I was foolish. She + would say, ‘If I had your luck, <i>I</i> would be happy.’ And the worst of + it is, it would be true. + </p> + <p> + “You see the position I am in with the rest of the children. I cannot say, + ‘You are spending too much of papa’s money, it is wrong for you to sign + cheques and trust to his carelessness.’ I have had my share of the money, + I have lined my own nest. All I can do is to buy dresses and hats for + Celeste; and know that she will use these to fill her girl-friends with + envy, and make scores of other families live beyond their means.” + </p> + <p> + 5. Sylvia’s pregnancy was moving to its appointed end. She wrote me + beautifully about it, much more frankly and simply than she could have + brought herself to talk. She recalled to me my own raptures, and also, my + own heartbreak. “Mary! Mary! I felt the child to-day! Such a sensation, I + could not have credited it if anyone had told me. I almost fainted. There + is something in me that wants to turn back, that is afraid to go on with + such experiences. I do not wish to be seized in spite of myself, and made + to feel things beyond my control. I wander off down the beach, and hide + myself, and cry and cry. I think I could almost pray again.” + </p> + <p> + And then again, “I am in ecstasy, because I am to bear a child, a child of + my own! Oh, wonderful, wonderful! But suddenly my ecstasy is shot through + with terror, because the father of this child is a man I do not love. + There is no use trying to deceive myself—nor you! I must have one + human soul with whom I can talk about it as it really is. I do not love + him, I never did love him, I never shall love him! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how could they have all been so mistaken? Here is Aunt Varina—one + of those who helped to persuade me into this marriage. She told me that + love would come; it seemed to be her idea—my mother had it too—that + you had only to submit yourself to a man, to follow and obey him, and love + would take possession of your heart. I tried credulously, and it did not + happen as they promised. And now, I am to bear him a child; and that will + bind us together for ever! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the despair of it—I do not love the father of my child! I say, + The child will be partly his, perhaps more his than mine. It will be like + him—it will have this quality and that, the very qualities, perhaps, + that are a source of distress to me in the father. So I shall have these + things before me day and night, all the rest of my life; I shall have to + see them growing and hardening; it will be a perpetual crucifixion of my + mother-love. I seek to comfort myself by saying, The child can be trained + differently, so that he will not have these qualities. But then I think, + No, you cannot train him as you wish. Your husband will have rights to the + child, rights superior to your own. Then I foresee the most dreadful + strife between us. + </p> + <p> + “A shrewd girl-friend once told me that I ought to be better or worse; I + ought not to see people’s faults as I do, or else I ought to love people + less. And I can see that I ought to have been too good to make this + marriage, or else not too good to make the best of it. I know that I might + be happy as Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, if I could think of the worldly + advantages, and the fact that my child will inherit them. But instead, I + see them as a trap, in which not only ourselves but the child is caught, + and from which I cannot save us. Oh, what a mistake a woman makes when she + marries a man with the idea that she is going to change him! He will not + change, he will not have the need of change suggested to him. He wants <i>peace</i> + in his home—which means that he wants to be what he is. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I can study the situation quite coolly, and as if it didn’t + concern me at all. He has required me to subject my mind to his. But he + will not be content with a general capitulation; he must have a surrender + from each individual soldier, from every rebel hidden in the hills. He + tracks them out (my poor, straggling, feeble ideas) and either they take + the oath of allegiance, or they are buried where they lie. The process is + like the spoiling of a child, I find; the more you give him, the more he + wants. And if any little thing is refused, then you see him set out upon a + regular campaign to break you down and get it.” + </p> + <p> + A month or more later she wrote: “Poor Douglas is getting restless. He has + caught every kind of fish there is to catch, and hunted every kind of + animal and bird, in and out of season. Harley has gone home, and so have + our other guests; it would be embarrassing to me to have company now. So + Douglas has no one but the doctor and myself and my poor aunt. He has + spoken several times of our going away; but I do not want to go, and I + think I ought to consider my own health at this critical time. It is hot + here, but I simply thrive in it—I never felt in better health. So I + asked him to go up to New York, or visit somewhere for a while, and let me + stay here until my baby is born. Does that seem so very unreasonable? It + does not to me, but poor Aunt Varina is in agony about it—I am + letting my husband drift away from me! + </p> + <p> + “I speculate about my lot as a woman; I see the bitterness and the sorrow + of my sex through the ages. I have become physically misshapen, so that I + am no longer attractive to him. I am no longer active and free, I can no + longer go about with him; on the contrary, I am a burden, and he is a man + who never tolerated a burden before. What this means is that I have lost + the magic hold of sex. + </p> + <p> + “As a woman it was my business to exert all my energies to maintain it. + And I know how I could restore it now; there is young Dr. Perrin! <i>He</i> + does not find me a burden, <i>he</i> would tolerate any deficiencies! And + I can see my husband on the alert in an instant, if I become too much + absorbed in discussing your health-theories with my handsome young + guardian! + </p> + <p> + “This is one of the recognized methods of keeping your husband; I learned + from Lady Dee all there is to know about it. But I would find the method + impossible now, even if my happiness were dependent upon retaining my + husband’s love. I should think of the rights of my friend, the little + doctor. That is one point to note for the ‘new’ woman, is it not? You may + mention it in your next suffrage-speech! + </p> + <p> + “There are other methods, of course. I have a mind, and I might turn its + powers to entertaining him, instead of trying to solve the problems of the + universe. But to do this, I should have to believe that it was the one + thing in the world for me to do; and I have permitted a doubt of that to + gain entrance to my brain! My poor aunt’s exhortations inspire me to + efforts to regain the faith of my mothers, but I simply cannot—I + cannot! She sits by me with the terror of all the women of all the ages in + her eyes. I am losing a man! + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know if you have ever set out to hold a man—deliberately, I + mean. Probably you haven’t. That bitter maxim of Lady Dee’s is the literal + truth of it—‘When in doubt, talk about HIM!’ If you will tactfully + and shrewdly keep a man talking about himself, his tastes, his ideas, his + work and the importance of it, there is never the least possibility of + your boring him. You must not just tamely agree with him, of course; if + you hint a difference now and then, and make him convince you, he will + find that stimulating; or if you can manage not to be quite convinced, but + sweetly open to conviction, he will surely call again. ‘Keep him busy + every minute,’ Lady Dee used to say. ‘Run away with him now and then—like + a spirited horse!’ And she would add, ‘But don’t let him drop the reins!’ + </p> + <p> + “You can have no idea how many women there are in the world deliberately + playing such parts. Some of them admit it; others just do the thing that + is easiest, and would die of horror if they were told what it is. It is + the whole of the life of a successful society woman, young or old. + Pleasing a man! Waiting upon his moods, piquing him, flattering him, + feeding his vanity—‘charming’ him! That is what Aunt Varina wants me + to do now; if I am not too crude in my description of the process, she has + no hesitation in admitting the truth. It is what she tried to do, it is + what almost every woman has done who has held a family together and made a + home. I was reading <i>Jane Eyre</i> the other day. <i>There</i> is your + woman’s ideal of an imperious and impetuous lover! Listen to him, when his + mood is on him!— + </p> + <p> + “I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night; and that is + why I sent for you; the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient + company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. + To-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and + recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out—to learn + more of you—therefore speak!” + </p> + <p> + 6. It was now May, and Sylvia’s time was little more than a month off. She + had been urging me to come and visit her, but I had refused, knowing that + my presence must necessarily be disturbing to both her husband and her + aunt. But now she wrote that her husband was going back to New York. “He + was staying out of a sense of duty to me,” she said. “But his discontent + was so apparent that I had to point out to him that he was doing harm to + me as well as to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if you will want to come here now. The last of the winter + visitors have left. It is really hot, so hot that you cannot get cool by + going into the water. Yet I am revelling in it; I wear almost nothing, and + that white; and even the suspicious Dr. Perrin cannot but admit that I am + thriving; his references to pills are purely formal. + </p> + <p> + “Lately I have not permitted myself to think much about the situation + between my husband and myself. I cannot blame him, and I cannot blame + myself, and I am trying to keep my peace of mind till my baby is born. I + have found myself following half-instinctively the procedure you told me + about; I talk to my own subconscious mind, and to the baby—I command + them to be well. I whisper to them things that are not so very far from + praying; but I don’t think my poor dear mamma would recognize it in its + new scientific dress! + </p> + <p> + “But sometimes I can’t help thinking of the child and its future, and then + all of a sudden my heart is ready to break with pity for the child’s + father! I have the consciousness that I do not love him, and that he has + always known it—and that makes me remorseful. But I told him the + truth before we married—he promised to be patient with me till I had + learned to love him! Now I want to burst into tears and cry aloud, ‘Oh, + why did you do it? Why did I let myself be persuaded into this marriage?’ + </p> + <p> + “I tried to have a talk with him last night, after he had decided to go + away. I was full of pity, and a desire to help. I said I wanted him to + know that no matter how much we might disagree about some things, I meant + to learn to live happily with him. We must find some sort of compromise, + for the sake of the child, if not for ourselves; we must not let the child + suffer. He answered coldly that there would be no need for the child to + suffer, the child would have the best the world could afford. I suggested + that there might arise some question as to just what the best was; but to + that he said nothing. He went on to rebuke my discontent; had he not given + me everything a woman could want? he asked. He was too polite to mention + money; but he said that I had leisure and entire freedom from care. I was + persisting in assuming cares, while he was doing all in his power to + prevent it. + </p> + <p> + “And that was as far as we got. I gave up the discussion, for we should + only have gone the old round over again. + </p> + <p> + “Douglas has taken up a saying that my cousin brought with him: ‘What you + don’t know won’t hurt you!’ I think that before he left, Harley had begun + to suspect that all was not well between my husband and myself, and he + felt it necessary to give me a little friendly counsel. He was tactful, + and politely vague, but I understood him—my worldly-wise young + cousin. I think that saying of his sums up the philosophy that he would + teach to all women—‘What you don’t know won’t hurt you!’” + </p> + <p> + 7. A week or so later Sylvia wrote me that her husband was in New York. + And I waited another week, for good measure, and then one morning dropped + in for a call upon Claire Lepage. + </p> + <p> + Why did I do it? you ask. I had no definite purpose—only a general + opposition to the philosophy of Cousin Harley. + </p> + <p> + I was ushered into Claire’s boudoir, which was still littered with last + evening’s apparel. She sat in a dressing-gown with resplendent red roses + on it, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, and apologized for not being + ready for callers. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve just had a talking to from Larry,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + “Larry?” said I, inquiringly; for Claire had always informed me + elaborately that van Tuiver had been her one departure from propriety, and + always would be. + </p> + <p> + Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences were + too much trouble. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know how to + manage men,” she said. “I never can get along with one for any time.” + </p> + <p> + I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I had only + tried it once. “Tell me,” I said, “who’s Larry?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s his picture.” She reached into a drawer of her dresser. + </p> + <p> + I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know better. + “He doesn’t seem especially forbidding,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just the trouble—you can never tell about men!” + </p> + <p> + I noted a date on the picture. “He seems to be an old friend. You never + told me about him.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t like being told about. He has a troublesome wife.” + </p> + <p> + I winced inwardly, but all I said was, “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a stock-broker; and he got ‘squeezed,’ so he says, and it’s made him + cross—and careful with his money, too. That’s trying, in a + stock-broker, you must admit.” She laughed. “And still he’s just as + particular—wants to have his own way in everything, wants to say + whom I shall know and where I shall go. I said, ‘I have all the + inconveniences of matrimony, and none of the advantages.’” + </p> + <p> + I made some remark upon the subject of the emancipation of woman; and + Claire, who was now leaning back in her chair, combing out her long black + tresses, smiled at me out of half-closed eyelids. “Guess whom he’s + objecting to!” she said. And when I pronounced it impossible, she looked + portentous. “There are bigger fish in the sea than Larry Edgewater!” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ve hooked one?” I asked, innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t mean to give up all my friends.” + </p> + <p> + I went on casually to talk about my plans for the summer; and a few + minutes later, after a lull—“By the way,” remarked Claire, “Douglas + van Tuiver is in town.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Where?” + </p> + <p> + “I got Jack Taylor to invite me again. You see, when Douglas fell in love + with his peerless southern beauty, Jack predicted he’d get over it even + more quickly. Now he’s interested in proving he was right.” + </p> + <p> + I waited a moment, and then asked, carelessly, “Is he having any success?” + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘Douglas, why don’t you come to see me?’ He was in a playful + mood. ‘What do you want? A new automobile?’ I answered, ‘I haven’t any + automobile, new or old, and you know it. What I want is you. I always + loved you—surely I proved that to you.’ ‘What you proved to me was + that you were a sort of wild-cat. I’m afraid of you. And anyway, I’m tired + of women. I’ll never trust another one.’” + </p> + <p> + “About the same conclusion as you’ve come to regarding men,” I remarked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘come and see me, and we’ll talk over old times. You + may trust me, I swear I’ll not tell a living soul.’ ‘You’ve been consoling + yourself with someone else,’ he said. But I knew he was only guessing. He + was seeking for something that would worry me, and he said, ‘You’re + drinking too much. People that drink can’t be trusted.’ ‘You know,’ I + replied, ‘I didn’t drink too much when I was with you. I’m not drinking as + much as you are, right now.’ He answered, ‘I’ve been off on a desert + island for God knows how many months, and I’m celebrating my escape.’ + ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘let me help celebrate!’” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say to that?” + </p> + <p> + Claire resumed the combing of her silken hair, and smiled a slow smile at + me. “‘You may trust me, Douglas,’ I said. ‘I swear I’ll not tell a living + soul!’” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I remarked, appreciatively, “that means he said he’d come!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> haven’t told you!” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + 8. I knew that I had only to wait for Claire to tell me the rest of the + story. But her mind went off on another tack. “Sylvia’s going to have a + baby,” she remarked, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “That ought to please her husband,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “You can see him beginning to swell with paternal pride!—so Jack + said. He sent for a bottle of some famous kind of champagne that he has, + to celebrate the new ‘millionaire baby.’ (They used to call Douglas that, + once upon a time.) Before they got through, they had made it triplets. + Jack says Douglas is the one man in New York who can afford them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend Jack seems to be what they call a wag,” I commented. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t everybody that Douglas will let carry on with him like that. He + takes himself seriously, as a rule. And he expects to take the new baby + seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “It generally binds a man tighter to his wife, don’t you think?” + </p> + <p> + I watched her closely, and saw her smile at my naiveté. “No,” she said, “I + don’t. It leaves them restless. It’s a bore all round.” + </p> + <p> + I did not dispute her authority; she ought to know her husbands, I + thought. + </p> + <p> + She was facing the mirror, putting up her hair; and in the midst of the + operation she laughed. “All that evening, while we were having a jolly + time at Jack Taylor’s, Larry was here waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Then no wonder you had a row!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “He hadn’t told me he was coming. And was I to sit here all night alone? + It’s always the same—I never knew a man who really in his heart was + willing for you to have any friends, or any sort of good time without + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” I replied, “he’s afraid you mightn’t be true to him.” I meant + this for a jest, of the sort that Claire and her friends would appreciate. + Little did I foresee where it was to lead us! + </p> + <p> + I remember how once on the farm my husband had a lot of dynamite, blasting + out stumps; and my emotions when I discovered the children innocently + playing with a stick of it. Something like these children I seem now to + myself, looking back on this visit to Claire, and our talk. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” she observed, without smiling, “Larry’s got a bee in his hat. + I’ve seen men who were jealous, and kept watch over women, but never one + that was obsessed like him.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s it about?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s been reading a book about diseases, and he tells me tales about what + may happen to me, and what may happen to him. When you’ve listened a + while, you can see microbes crawling all over the walls of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” I began. + </p> + <p> + “I was sick of his lecturing, so I said, ‘Larry, you’ll have to do like me—have + everything there is, and get over it, and then you won’t need to worry.’” + </p> + <p> + I sat still, staring at her; I think I must have stopped breathing. At the + end of an eternity, I said, “You’ve not really had any of these diseases, + Claire?” + </p> + <p> + “Who hasn’t?” she countered. + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause. “You know,” I observed, “some of them are + dangerous——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” she answered, lightly. “There’s one that makes your nose + fall in and your hair fall out—but you haven’t seen anything like + that happening to me!” + </p> + <p> + “But there’s another,” I hinted—“one that’s much more common.” And + when she did not take the hint, I continued, “Also it’s more serious than + people generally realize.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. “What of it? Men bring you these things, and + it’s part of the game. So what’s the use of bothering?” + </p> + <p> + 9. There was a long silence; I had to have time to decide what course to + take. There was so much that I wanted to get from her, and so much that I + wanted to hide from her! + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to bore you, Claire,” I began, finally, “but really this is + a matter of importance to you. You see, I’ve been reading up on the + subject as well as Larry. The doctors have been making new discoveries. + They used to think this was just a local infection, like a cold, but now + they find it’s a blood disease, and has the gravest consequences. For one + thing, it causes most of the surgical operations that have to be performed + on women.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so,” she said, still indifferent. “I’ve had two operations. But + it’s ancient history now.” + </p> + <p> + “You mayn’t have reached the end yet,” I persisted. “People suppose they + are cured of gonorrhea, when really it’s only suppressed, and is liable to + break out again at any time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew. That’s some of the information Larry had been making love to + me with.” + </p> + <p> + “It may get into the joints and cause rheumatism; it may cause neuralgia; + it’s been known to affect the heart. Also it causes two-thirds of all the + blindness in infants——” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly Claire laughed. “That’s Sylvia Castleman’s lookout it seems + to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! OH!” I whispered, losing my self-control. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” she asked, and I noticed that her voice had become + sharp. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean what you’ve just implied?” + </p> + <p> + “That Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver may have to pay something for what she has + done to me? Well, what of it?” And suddenly Claire flew into a passion, as + she always did when our talk came to her rival. “Why shouldn’t she take + chances the same as the rest of us? Why should I have it and she get off?” + </p> + <p> + I fought for my composure. After a pause, I said: “It’s not a thing we + want anybody to have, Claire. We don’t want anybody to take such a chance. + The girl ought to have been told.” + </p> + <p> + “Told? Do you imagine she would have given up her great catch?” + </p> + <p> + “She might have, how can you be sure? Anyhow, she should have had the + chance.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. I was so shaken that it was hard for me to find + words. “As a matter of fact,” said Claire, grimly, “I thought of warning + her myself. There’d have been some excitement at least! You remember—when + they came out of church. You helped to stop me!” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been too late then,” I heard myself saying. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she exclaimed, with fresh excitement, “it’s Miss Sylvia’s turn + now! We’ll see if she’s such a grand lady that she can’t get my diseases!” + </p> + <p> + I could no longer contain myself. “Claire,” I cried, “you are talking like + a devil!” + </p> + <p> + She picked up a powder-puff, and began to use it diligently. “I know,” she + said—and I saw her burning eyes in the glass—“you can’t fool + me. You’ve tried to be kind, but you despise me in your heart. You think + I’m as bad as any woman of the street. Very well then, I speak for my + class, and I tell you, this is where we prove our humanity. They throw us + out, but you see we get back in!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear woman,” I said, “you don’t understand. You’d not feel as you do, + If you knew that the person to pay the penalty might be an innocent little + child.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Their</i> child! Yes, it’s too bad if there has to be anything the + matter with the little prince! But I might as well tell you the truth—I’ve + had that in mind all along. I didn’t know just what would happen, or how—I + don’t believe anybody does, the doctors who pretend to are just faking + you. But I knew Douglas was rotten, and maybe his children would be + rotten, and they’d all of them suffer. That was one of the things that + kept me from interfering and smashing him up.” + </p> + <p> + I was speechless now, and Claire, watching me, laughed. “You look as if + you’d had no idea of it. Don’t you know that I told you at the time?” + </p> + <p> + “You told me at the time!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, you didn’t understand. I’m apt to talk French when I’m + excited. We have a saying: ‘The wedding present which the mistress leaves + in the basket of the bride.’ That was pretty near telling, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + And the other, after watching me for a moment more, went on: “You think + I’m revengeful, don’t you? Well, I used to reproach myself with this, and + I tried to fight it down; but the time comes when you want people to pay + for what they take from you. Let me tell you something that I never told + to anyone, that I never expected to tell. You see me drinking and going to + the devil; you hear me talking the care-free talk of my world, but in the + beginning I was really in love with Douglas van Tuiver, and I wanted his + child. I wanted it so that it was an ache to me. And yet, what chance did + I have? I’d have been the joke of his set for ever if I’d breathed it; I’d + have been laughed out of the town. I even tried at one time to trap him—to + get his child in spite of him, but I found that the surgeons had cut me + up, and I could never have a child. So I have to make the best of it—I + have to agree with my friends that it’s a good thing, it saves me trouble! + But <i>she</i> comes along, and she has what I wanted, and all the world + thinks it wonderful and sublime. She’s a beautiful young mother! What’s + she ever done in her life that she has everything, and I go without? You + may spend your time shedding tears over her and what may happen to her but + for my part, I say this—let her take her chances! Let her take her + chances with the other women in the world—the women she’s too good + and too pure to know anything about!” + </p> + <p> + 10. I came out of Claire’s house, sick with horror. Not since the time + when I had read my poor nephew’s letter had I been so shaken. Why had I + not thought long ago of questioning Claire about these matters. How could + I have left Sylvia all this time exposed to peril? + </p> + <p> + The greatest danger was to her child at the time of birth. I figured up, + according to the last letter I had received; there was about ten days yet, + and so I felt some relief. I thought first of sending a telegram, but + reflected that it would be difficult, not merely to tell her what to do in + a telegram, but to explain to her afterwards why I had chosen this + extraordinary method. I recollected that in her last letter she had + mentioned the name of the surgeon who was coming from New York to attend + her during her confinement. Obviously the thing for me to do was to see + this surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame?” he said, when I was seated in his inner office. + </p> + <p> + He was a tall, elderly man, immaculately groomed, and formal and precise + in his manner. “Dr. Overton,” I began, “my friend, Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver + writes me that you are going to Florida shortly.” + </p> + <p> + “That is correct,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to see you about a delicate matter. I presume I need hardly + say that I am relying upon the seal of professional secrecy.” + </p> + <p> + I saw his gaze become suddenly fixed. “Certainly, madame,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am taking this course because Mrs. van Tuiver is a very dear friend of + mine, and I am concerned about her welfare. It has recently come to my + knowledge that she has become exposed to infection by a venereal disease.” + </p> + <p> + He would hardly have started more if I had struck him. “HEY?” he cried, + forgetting his manners. + </p> + <p> + “It would not help you any,” I said, “if I were to go into details about + this unfortunate matter. Suffice it to say that my information is positive + and precise—that it could hardly be more so.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. He sat with eyes rivetted upon me. “What is this + disease?” he demanded, at last. + </p> + <p> + I named it, and then again there was a pause. “How long has this—this + possibility of infection existed?” + </p> + <p> + “Ever since her marriage, nearly eighteen months ago.” + </p> + <p> + That told him a good part of the story. I felt his look boring me through. + Was I a mad woman? Or some new kind of blackmailer? Or, was I, possibly, a + Claire? I was grateful for my forty-cent bonnet and my forty-seven years. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he said at length, “this information startles me.” + </p> + <p> + “When you have thought it over,” I responded, “you will realise that no + possible motive could bring me here but concern for the welfare of my + friend.” + </p> + <p> + He took a few moments to consider. “That may be true, madame, but let me + add that when you say you KNOW this——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. “I MEAN that I know it,” I said, and stopped in turn. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mrs. van Tuiver herself any idea of this situation?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever. On the contrary, she was assured before her marriage that + no such possibility existed.” + </p> + <p> + Again I felt him looking through me, but I left him to make what he could + of my information. “Doctor,” I continued, “I presume there is no need to + point out to a man in your position the seriousness of this matter, both + to the mother and to the child.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly there is not.” + </p> + <p> + “I assume that you are familiar with the precautions that have to be taken + with regard to the eyes of the child?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madame.” This with just a touch of HAUTEUR, and then, + suddenly: “Are you by any chance a nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied, “but many years ago I was forced by tragedy in my own + family to realise the seriousness of the venereal peril. So when I learned + this fact about my friend, my first thought was that you should be + informed of it. I trust that you will appreciate my position.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madame, certainly,” he made haste to say. “You are quite + right, and you may rest assured that everything will be done that our best + knowledge directs. I only regret that the information did not come to me + sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “It only came to me about an hour ago,” I said, as I rose to leave. “The + blame, therefore, must rest upon another person.” + </p> + <p> + I needed to say no more. He bowed me politely out, and I walked down the + street, and realised that I was restless and wretched. I wandered at + random for a while, trying to think what else I could do, for my own peace + of mind, if not for Sylvia’s welfare. I found myself inventing one worry + after another. Dr. Overton had not said just when he was going, and + suppose she were to need someone at once? Or suppose something were to + happen to him—if he were to be killed upon the long train-journey? I + was like a mother who has had a terrible dream about her child—she + must rush and fling her arms about the child. I realised that I wanted to + see Sylvia! + </p> + <p> + She had begged me to come; and I was worn out and had been urged by the + office to take a rest. Suddenly I bolted into a store, and telephoned the + railroad station about trains to Southern Florida. I hailed a taxi-cab, + rode to my home post-haste, and flung a few of my belongings into a bag + and the waiting cab sped with me to the ferry. In little more than two + hours after Claire had told me the dreadful tidings, I was speeding on my + way to Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + 11. From a train-window I had once beheld a cross-section of America from + West to East; now I beheld another from North to South. In the afternoon + were the farms and country-homes of New Jersey; and then in the morning + endless wastes of wilderness, and straggling fields of young corn and + tobacco; turpentine forests, with half-stripped negroes working, and a + procession of “depots,” with lanky men chewing tobacco, and negroes + basking in the blazing sun. Then another night, and there was the pageant + of Florida: palmettos, and other trees of which one had seen pictures in + the geography books; stretches of vine-tangled swamps, where one looked + for alligators; orange-groves in blossom, and gardens full of flowers + beyond imagining. Every hour, of course, it got hotter; I was not, like + Sylvia, used to it, and whenever the train stopped I sat by the open + window, mopping the perspiration from my face. + </p> + <p> + We were due at Miami in the afternoon; but there was a freight-train off + the track ahead of us, and so for three hours I sat chafing with + impatience, worrying the conductor with futile questions. I had to make + connections at Miami with a train which ran to the last point on the + mainland, where the construction-work over the keys was going forward. And + if I missed that last train, I would have to wait in Miami till morning. I + had better wait there, anyhow, the conductor argued; but I insisted that + my friends, to whom I had telegraphed two days before, would meet me with + a launch and take me to their place that night. + </p> + <p> + We got in half an hour late for the other train; but this was the South, I + discovered, and they had waited for us. I shifted my bag and myself across + the platform, and we moved on. But then another problem arose; we were + running into a storm. It came with great suddenness; one minute all was + still, with a golden sunset, and the next it was so dark that I could + barely see the palm-trees, bent over, swaying madly—like people with + arms stretched out, crying in distress. I could hear the roaring of the + wind above that of the train, and I asked the conductor in consternation + if this could be a hurricane. It was not the season for hurricanes, he + replied; but it was “some storm, all right,” and I would not find any boat + to take me to the keys until it was over. + </p> + <p> + It was absurd of me to be nervous, I kept telling myself; but there was + something in me that cried out to be there, to be there! I got out of the + train, facing what I refrain from calling a hurricane out of deference to + local authority. It was all I could do to keep from being blown across the + station-platform, and I was drenched with the spray and bewildered by the + roaring of the waves that beat against the pier beyond. Inside the + station, I questioned the agent. The launch of the van Tuivers had not + been in that day; if it had been on the way, it must have sought shelter + somewhere. My telegram to Mrs. van Tuiver had been received two days + before, and delivered by a boatman whom they employed for that purpose. + Presumably, therefore, I would be met. I asked how long this gale was apt + to last; the answer was from one to three days. + </p> + <p> + Then I asked about shelter for the night. This was a “jumping-off” place, + said the agent, with barracks and shanties for a construction-gang; there + were saloons, and what was called a hotel, but it wouldn’t do for a lady. + I pleaded that I was not fastidious—being anxious to nullify the + effect which the name van Tuiver had produced. But the agent would have it + that the place was unfit for even a Western farmer’s wife; and as I was + not anxious to take the chance of being blown overboard in the darkness, I + spent the night on one of the benches in the station. I lay, listening to + the incredible clamour of wind and waves, feeling the building quiver, and + wondering if each gust might not blow it away. + </p> + <p> + I was out at dawn, the force of the wind having abated somewhat by that + time. I saw before me a waste of angry foam-strewn water, with no sign of + any craft upon it. Late in the morning came the big steamer which ran to + Key West, in connection with the railroad; it made a difficult landing, + and I interviewed the captain, with the idea of bribing him to take me to + my destination. But he had his schedule, which neither storms nor the name + of van Tuiver could alter. Besides, he pointed out, he could not land me + at their place, as his vessel drew too much water to get anywhere near; + and if he landed me elsewhere, I should be no better off, “If your friends + are expecting you, they’ll come here,” he said, “and their launch can + travel when nothing else can.” + </p> + <p> + To pass the time I went to inspect the viaduct of the railway-to-be. The + first stretch was completed, a long series of concrete arches, running + out, apparently, into the open sea. It was one of the engineering wonders + of the world, but I fear I did not appreciate it. Towards mid-afternoon I + made out a speck of a boat over the water, and my friend, the + station-agent, remarked, “There’s your launch.” + </p> + <p> + I expressed my amazement that they should have ventured out in such + weather. I had had in mind the kind of tiny open craft that one hears + making day and night hideous at summer-resorts; but when the “Merman” drew + near, I realized afresh what it was to be the guest of a + multi-millionaire. She was about fifty feet long, a vision of polished + brass and shining, new-varnished cedar. She rammed her shoulder into the + waves and flung them contemptuously to one side; her cabin was tight, dry + as the saloon of a liner. + </p> + <p> + Three men emerged on deck to assist in the difficult process of making a + landing. One of them sprang to the dock, and confronting me, inquired if I + was Mrs. Abbott. He explained that they had set out to meet me the + previous afternoon, but had had to take refuge behind one of the keys. + </p> + <p> + “How is Mrs. van Tuiver?” I asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “She is well.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose—the baby——” I hinted. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am, not yet,” said the man; and after that I felt interested in + what he had to say about the storm and its effects. We could return at + once, it seemed, if I did not mind being pitched about. + </p> + <p> + “How long does it take?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Three hours, in weather like this. It’s about fifty miles.” + </p> + <p> + “But then it will be dark,” I objected. + </p> + <p> + “That won’t matter, ma’am—we have plenty of light of our own. We + shan’t have trouble, unless the wind rises, and there’s a chain of keys + all the way, where we can get shelter if it does. The worst you have to + fear is spending a night on board.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected that I could not well be more uncomfortable than I had been + the previous night, so I voted for a start. There was mail and some + supplies to be put on board; then I made a spring for the deck, as it + surged up towards me on a rising wave, and in a moment more the cabin-door + had shut behind me, and I was safe and snug, in the midst of leather and + mahogany and electric-lighted magnificence. Through the heavy double + windows I saw the dock swing round behind us, and saw the torrents of + green spray sweep over us and past. I grasped at the seat to keep myself + from being thrown forward, and then grasped behind, to keep from going in + that direction. I had a series of sensations as of an elevator stopping + suddenly—and then I draw the curtains of the “Merman’s” cabin, and + invite the reader to pass by. This is Sylvia’s story, and not mine, and it + is of no interest what happened to me during that trip. I will only remind + the reader that I had lived my life in the far West, and there were some + things I could not have foreseen. + </p> + <p> + 12. “We are there, ma’am,” I heard one of the boatmen say, and I realised + vaguely that the pitching had ceased. He helped me to sit up, and I saw + the search-light of the craft sweeping the shore of an island. “It passes + off ‘most as quick as it comes, ma’am,” added my supporter, and for this I + murmured feeble thanks. + </p> + <p> + We came to a little bay, where the power was shut off, and we glided + towards the shore. There was a boat-house, a sort of miniature dry-dock, + with a gate which closed behind us. I had visions of Sylvia waiting to + meet me, but apparently our arrival had not been noted, and for this I was + grateful. There were seats in the boat-house, and I sank into one, and + asked the man to wait a few minutes while I recovered myself. When I got + up and went to the house, what I found made me quickly forget that I had + such a thing as a body. + </p> + <p> + There was a bright moon, I remember, and I could see the long, low + bungalow, with windows gleaming through the palm-trees. A woman’s figure + emerged from the house and came down the white shell-path to meet me. My + heart leaped. My beloved! + </p> + <p> + But then I saw it was the English maid, whom I had come to know in New + York; I saw, too, that her face was alight with excitement. “Oh, my lady!” + she cried. “The baby’s come!” + </p> + <p> + It was like a blow in the face. “<i>What?</i>” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Came early this morning. A girl.” + </p> + <p> + “But—I thought it wasn’t till next week!” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but it’s here. In that terrible storm, when we thought the house + was going to be washed away! Oh, my lady, it’s the loveliest baby!” + </p> + <p> + I had presence of mind enough to try to hide my dismay. The semi-darkness + was a fortunate thing for me. “How is the mother?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid. She’s asleep now.” + </p> + <p> + “And the child?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Such a dear you never saw!” + </p> + <p> + “And it’s all right?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just the living image of its mother! You shall see!” + </p> + <p> + We moved towards the house, slowly, while I got my thoughts together. “Dr. + Perrin is here?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He’s gone to his place to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “And the nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s with the child. Come this way.” + </p> + <p> + We went softly up the steps of the veranda. All the rooms opened upon it, + and we entered one of them, and by the dim-shaded light I saw a white-clad + woman bending over a crib. “Miss Lyman, this is Mrs. Abbott,” said the + maid. + </p> + <p> + The nurse straightened up. “Oh! so you got here! And just at the right + time!” + </p> + <p> + “God grant it may be so!” I thought to myself. “So this is the child!” I + said, and bent over the crib. The nurse turned up the light for me. + </p> + <p> + It is the form in which the miracle of life becomes most apparent to us, + and dull indeed must be he who can encounter it without being stirred to + the depths. To see, not merely new life come into the world, but life + which has been made by ourselves, or by those we love—life that is a + mirror and copy of something dear to us! To see this tiny mite of warm and + living flesh, and to see that it was Sylvia! To trace each beloved + lineament, so much alike, and yet so different—half a portrait and + half a caricature, half sublime and half ludicrous! The comical little + imitation of her nose, with each dear little curve, with even a remainder + of the tiny groove underneath the tip, and the tiny corresponding dimple + underneath the chin! The soft silken fuzz which was some day to be + Sylvia’s golden glory! The delicate, sensitive lips, which were some day + to quiver with feeling! I gazed at them and saw them moving, I saw the + breast moving—and a wave of emotion swept over me, and the tears + half-blinded me as I knelt. + </p> + <p> + But I could not forget the reason for my coming. It meant little that the + child was alive and seemingly well; I was not dealing with a disease + which, like syphilis, starves and deforms in the very womb. The little one + was asleep, but I moved the light so as to examine its eyelids. Then I + turned to the nurse and asked: “Miss Lyman, doesn’t it seem to you the + eyelids are a trifle inflamed?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I hadn’t noticed it,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Were the eyes washed?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I washed the baby, of course—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the eyes especially. The doctor didn’t drop anything into them?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he considered it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s an important precaution,” I replied; “there are always possibilities + of infection.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said the other. “But you know, we did not expect this. Dr. + Overton was to be here in three or four days.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin is asleep?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He was up all last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I will have to ask you to waken him,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Is it as serious as that?” she inquired, anxiously, having sensed some of + the emotion I was trying to conceal. + </p> + <p> + “It might be very serious,” I said. “I really ought to have a talk with + the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + 13. The nurse went out, and I drew up a chair and sat by the crib, + watching the infant go back to sleep. I was glad to be alone, to have a + chance to get myself together. But suddenly I heard a rustle of skirts in + the doorway behind me, and turned and saw a white-clad figure; an elderly + gentlewoman, slender and fragile, grey-haired and rather pale, wearing a + soft dressing-gown. Aunt Varina! + </p> + <p> + I rose. “This must be Mrs. Abbott,” she said. Oh, these soft, caressing + Southern voices, that cling to each syllable as a lover to a hand at + parting. + </p> + <p> + She was a very prim and stately little lady, and I think she did not + intend to shake hands; but I felt pretty certain that under her coating of + formality, she was eager for a chance to rhapsodize. “Oh, what a lovely + child!” I cried; and instantly she melted. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen our babe!” she exclaimed; and I could not help smiling. A + few months ago, “the little stranger,” and now “our babe”! + </p> + <p> + She bent over the cradle, with her dear old sentimental, romantic soul in + her eyes. For a minute or two she quite forgot me; then, looking up, she + murmured, “It is as wonderful to me as if it were my own!” + </p> + <p> + “All of us who love Sylvia feel that,” I responded. + </p> + <p> + She rose, and suddenly remembering hospitality, asked me as to my present + needs. Then she said, “I must go and see to sending some telegrams.” + </p> + <p> + “Telegrams?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Think what this news will mean to dear Douglas! And to Major + Castleman!” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t informed them?” + </p> + <p> + “We couldn’t send any smaller boat on account of the storm. We must + telegraph Dr. Overton also, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “To tell him not to come?” I ventured. “But don’t you think, Mrs. Tuis, + that he may wish to come anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he wish that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure, but—I think he might.” How I longed for a little of + Sylvia’s skill in social lying! “Every newly-born infant ought to be + examined by a specialist, you know; there may be a particular <i>régime,</i> + a diet for the mother—one cannot say.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin didn’t consider it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to have a talk with Dr. Perrin at once,” I said. + </p> + <p> + I saw a troubled look in her eyes. “You don’t mean you think there’s + anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” I lied. “But I’m sure you ought to wait before you have the + launch go. Please do.” + </p> + <p> + “If you insist,” she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just a + touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and one—well, + possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the ones that + came were: “Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting.” + </p> + <p> + I was too polite to offer the suggestion that “dear Douglas” might be + finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching + on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor. + </p> + <p> + 14. “How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin. He was in his + dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, but + he replied, “It’s pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two new + faces!” + </p> + <p> + That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of + sleep. I tried to meet his mood. “Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells me + that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won’t mind + regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I’ve had + to help bring others into the world.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he smiled. “We’ll consider you qualified. What is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to ask you about the child’s eyes. It is a wise precaution to + drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible + infection.” + </p> + <p> + I waited for my answer. “There have been no signs of any sort of infection + in this case,” he said, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You have + not taken the precaution?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “You have some of the drug, of course?” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause. “No, madam, I fear that I have not.” + </p> + <p> + I winced, involuntarily. I could not hide my distress. “Dr. Perrin,” I + exclaimed, “you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to + provide something so essential!” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing left of the little man’s affability now. “In the first + place,” he said, “I must remind you that I did not come to attend a + confinement case. I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver’s condition up <i>to</i> + the time of confinement.” + </p> + <p> + “But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn’t have any nitrate of silver!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, stiffly, “there is no use for this drug except in one + contingency.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” I cried, “but it is an important precaution. It is the practice + to use it in all maternity hospitals.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what the + practice is.” + </p> + <p> + So there we were, at a deadlock. There was silence for a space. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind sending for the drug?” I asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” he said, with <i>hauteur,</i> “it will do no harm to have it + on hand.” + </p> + <p> + I was aware of an elderly lady watching us, with consternation written + upon every sentimental feature. “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “if Mrs. Tuis will + pardon me, I think I ought to speak with you alone.” The nurse hastily + withdrew; and I saw the elderly lady draw herself up with terrible dignity—and + then suddenly quail, and turn and follow the nurse. + </p> + <p> + I told the little man what I knew. After he had had time to get over his + consternation, he said that fortunately there did not seem to be any sign + of trouble. + </p> + <p> + “There does seem so to me,” I replied. “It may be only my imagination, but + I think the eyelids are inflamed.” + </p> + <p> + I held the baby for him, while he made an examination. He admitted that + there seemed to be ground for uneasiness. His professional dignity was now + gone, and he was only too glad to be human. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “there is only one thing we can do—to get some + nitrate of silver at the earliest possible moment. Fortunately, the launch + is here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have it start at once,” he said. “It will have to go to Key West.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long will that take?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon the sea. In good weather it takes us eight hours to go + and return.” I could not repress a shudder. The child might be blind in + eight hours! + </p> + <p> + But there was no time to be wasted in foreboding. “About Dr. Overton,” I + said. “Don’t you think he had better come?” But I ventured to add the hint + that Mr. van Tuiver would hardly wish expense to be considered in such an + emergency; and in the end, I persuaded the doctor not merely to telegraph + for the great surgeon, but to ask a hospital in Atlanta to send the + nearest eye-specialist by the first train. + </p> + <p> + We called back Mrs. Tuis, and I apologized abjectly for my presumption, + and Dr. Perrin announced that he thought he ought to see Dr. Overton, and + another doctor as well. I saw fear leap into Aunt Varina’s eyes. “Oh, what + is it?” she cried. “What is the matter with our babe?” + </p> + <p> + I helped the doctor to answer polite nothings to all her questions. “Oh, + the poor, dear lady!” I thought to myself. The poor, dear lady! What a + tearing away of veils and sentimental bandages was written in her book of + fate for that night! + </p> + <p> + 15. I find myself lingering over these preliminaries, dreading the plunge + into the rest of my story. We spent our time hovering over the child’s + crib, and in two or three hours the little eyelids had become so inflamed + that there could no longer be any doubt what was happening. We applied + alternate hot and cold cloths; we washed the eyes in a solution of boric + acid, and later, in our desperation, with bluestone. But we were dealing + with the virulent gonococcus, and we neither expected nor obtained much + result from these measures. In a couple of hours more the eyes were + beginning to exude pus, and the poor infant was wailing in torment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what can it be? Tell me what is the matter?” cried Mrs. Tuis. She + sought to catch the child in her arms, and when I quickly prevented her, + she turned upon me in anger. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “The child must be quiet,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But I wish to comfort it!” And when I still insisted, she burst out + wildly: “What <i>right</i> have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis,” I said, gently, “it is possible the infant may have a very + serious infection. If so, you would be apt to catch it.” + </p> + <p> + She answered with a hysterical cry: “My precious innocent! Do you think + that I would be afraid of anything it could have?” + </p> + <p> + “You may not be afraid, but we are. We should have to take care of you, + and one case is more than enough.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she clutched me by the arm. “Tell me what this awful thing is! I + demand to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis,” said the doctor, interfering, “we are not yet sure what the + trouble is, we only wish to take precautions. It is really imperative that + you should not handle this child or even go near it. There is nothing you + can possibly do.” + </p> + <p> + She was willing to take orders from him; he spoke the same dialect as + herself, and with the same quaint stateliness. A charming little Southern + gentleman—I could realise how Douglas van Tuiver had “picked him out + for his social qualities.” In the old-fashioned Southern medical college + where he had got his training, I suppose they had taught him the + old-fashioned idea of gonorrhea. Now he was acquiring our extravagant + modern notions in the grim school of experience! + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to put the nurse on her guard as to the risks we were + running. We should have had concave glasses to protect our eyes, and we + spent part of our time washing our hands in bichloride solution. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Abbott, what is it?” whispered the woman. + </p> + <p> + “It has a long name,” I replied—“<i>opthalmia neonatorum.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “And what has caused it?” + </p> + <p> + “The original cause,” I responded, “is a man.” I was not sure if that was + according to the ethics of the situation, but the words came. + </p> + <p> + Before long the infected eye-sockets were two red and yellow masses of + inflammation, and the infant was screaming like one of the damned. We had + to bind up its eyes; I was tempted to ask the doctor to give it an opiate + for fear lest it should scream itself into convulsions. Then as poor Mrs. + Tuis was pacing the floor, wringing her hands and sobbing hysterically, + Dr. Perrin took me to one side and said: “I think she will have to be + told.” + </p> + <p> + The poor, poor lady! + </p> + <p> + “She might as well understand now as later,” he continued. “She will have + to help keep the situation from the mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, faintly; and then, “Who shall tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” suggested the doctor, “she might prefer to be told by a woman.” + </p> + <p> + So I shut my lips together and took the distracted lady gently by the arm + and led her to the door. We stole like two criminals down the veranda, and + along the path to the beach, and near the boathouse we stopped, and I + began. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis, you may remember a circumstance which your niece mentioned to + me—that just before her marriage she urged you to have certain + inquiries made as to Mr. van Tuiver’s health, his fitness for marriage?” + </p> + <p> + Never shall I forget her face at that moment. “Sylvia told you that!” + </p> + <p> + “The inquiries were made,” I went on, “but not carefully enough, it seems. + Now you behold the consequence of this negligence.” + </p> + <p> + I saw her blank stare. I added: “The one to pay for it is the child.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you mean—” she stammered, her voice hardly a whisper. “Oh—it + is impossible!” Then, with a flare of indignation: “Do you realise what + you are implying—that Mr. van Tuiver—” + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of implying,” I said, quietly. “It is the facts we + have to face now, and you will have to help us to face them.” + </p> + <p> + She cowered and swayed before me, hiding her face in her hands. I heard + her sobbing and murmuring incoherent cries to her god. I took the poor + lady’s hand, and bore with her as long as I could, until, being at the end + of my patience with prudery and purity and chivalry, and all the rest of + the highfalutin romanticism of the South, I said: “Mrs Tuis, it is + necessary that you should get yourself together. You have a serious duty + before you—that you owe both to Sylvia and her child.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she whispered. The word “duty” had motive power for her. + </p> + <p> + “At all hazards, Sylvia must be kept in ignorance of the calamity for the + present. If she were to learn of it it would quite possibly throw her into + a fever, and cost her life or the child’s. You must not make any sound + that she can hear, and you must not go near her until you have completely + mastered your emotions.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she murmured. She was really a brave little body, but I, not + knowing her, and thinking only of the peril, was cruel in hammering things + into her consciousness. Finally, I left her, seated upon the steps of the + deserted boat-house, rocking back and forth and sobbing softly to herself—one + of the most pitiful figures it has ever been my fortune to encounter in my + pilgrimage through a world of sentimentality and incompetence. + </p> + <p> + 16. I went back to the house, and because we feared the sounds of the + infant’s crying might carry, we hung blankets before the doors and windows + of the room, and sat in the hot enclosure, shuddering, silent, grey with + fear. After an hour or two, Mrs. Tuis rejoined us, stealing in and seating + herself at one side of the room, staring from one to another of us with + wide eyes of fright. + </p> + <p> + By the time the first signs of dawn appeared, the infant had cried itself + into a state of exhaustion. The faint light that got into the room + revealed the three of us, listening to the pitiful whimpering. I was faint + with weakness, but I had to make an effort and face the worst ordeal of + all. There came a tapping at the door—the maid, to say that Sylvia + was awake and had heard of my arrival and wished to see me. I might have + put off our meeting for a while, on the plea of exhaustion, but I + preferred to have it over with, and braced myself and went slowly to her + room. + </p> + <p> + In the doorway I paused for an instant to gaze at her. She was exquisite, + lying there with the flush of sleep still upon her, and the ecstasy of her + great achievement in her face. I fled to her, and we caught each other in + our arms. “Oh, Mary, Mary! I’m so glad you’ve come!” And then: “Oh, Mary, + isn’t it the loveliest baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly glorious!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m so happy—so happy as I never dreamed! I’ve no words to tell + you about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t need any words—I’ve been through it,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but she’s so <i>beautiful!</i> Tell me, honestly, isn’t that really + so?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I said, “she is like you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” she went on, half whispering, “I think it solves all my problems—all + that I wrote you about. I don’t believe I shall ever be unhappy again. I + can’t believe that such a thing has really happened—that I’ve been + given such a treasure. And she’s my own! I can watch her little body grow + and help to make it strong and beautiful! I can help mould her little mind—see + it opening up, one chamber of wonder after another! I can teach her all + the things I have had to grope so to get!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, trying to speak with conviction. I added, hastily: “I’m + glad you don’t find motherhood disappointing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s a miracle!” she exclaimed. “A woman who could be dissatisfied + with anything afterwards would be an ingrate!” She paused, then added: + “Mary, now she’s here in flesh, I feel she’ll be a bond between Douglas + and me. He must see her rights, her claim upon life, as he couldn’t see + mine.” + </p> + <p> + I assented gravely. So that was the thing she was thinking most about—a + bond between her husband and herself! A moment later the nurse appeared in + the doorway, and Sylvia set up a cry: “My baby! Where’s my baby? I want to + see my baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia, dear,” I said, “there’s something about the baby that has to be + explained.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly she was alert. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “Nothing, dear, that amounts to anything. But the little one’s + eyes are inflamed—that is to say, the lids. It’s something that + happens to newly-born infants.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only the doctor’s had to put some salve on them, and they don’t + look very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind that, if it’s all right.” + </p> + <p> + “But we’ve had to put a bandage over them, and it looks forbidding. Also + the child is apt to cry.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see her at once!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Just now she’s asleep, so don’t make us disturb her.” + </p> + <p> + “But how long will this last?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very long. Meantime you must be sensible and not mind. It’s something + I made the doctor do, and you mustn’t blame me, or I’ll be sorry I came to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear thing,” she said, and put her hand in mine. And then, suddenly: + “Why did you take it into your head to come, all of a sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me,” I smiled. “I have no excuse. I just got homesick and had + to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perfectly wonderful that you should be here now,” she declared. “But + you look badly. Are you tired?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” I said. (Such a difficult person to deceive!) “To tell the + truth, I’m pretty nearly done up. You see, I was caught in the storm, and + I was desperately sea-sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you poor dear! Why didn’t you go to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t want to sleep. I was too much excited by everything. I came to + see one Sylvia and I found two!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it absurd,” she cried, “how she looks like me? Oh, I want to see + her again. How long will it be before I can have her?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I said, “you mustn’t worry—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just playing. I’m so happy, I want to squeeze her + in my arms all the time. Just think, Mary, they won’t let me nurse her, + yet—a whole day now! Can that be right?” + </p> + <p> + “Nature will take care of that,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but how can you be sure what Nature means? Maybe it’s what the child + is crying about, and it’s the crying that makes its eyes red.” + </p> + <p> + I felt a sudden spasm grip my heart. “No, dear, no,” I said, hastily. “You + must let Dr. Perrin attend to these things, for I’ve just had to interfere + with his arrangements, and he’ll be getting cross pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she cried with laughter in her eyes, “you’ve had a scene with him? I + knew you would! He’s so quaint and old-fashioned!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “and he talks exactly like your aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You’ve met her too! I’m missing all the fun!” + </p> + <p> + I had a sudden inspiration—one that I was proud of. “My dear girl,” + I said, “maybe <i>you</i> call it fun!” And I looked really agitated. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what’s the matter?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “What could you expect?” I asked. “I fear, my dear Sylvia, I’ve shocked + your aunt beyond all hope.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve talked about things I’d no business to—I’ve bossed the learned + doctor—and I’m sure Aunt Varina has guessed I’m not a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me about it!” cried Sylvia, full of delight. + </p> + <p> + But I could not keep up the game any longer. “Not now, dear,” I said. + “It’s a long story, and I really am exhausted. I must go and get some + rest.” + </p> + <p> + I rose, and she caught my hand, whispering: “I shall be happy, Mary! I + shall be really happy now!” And then I turned and fled, and when I was out + of sight of the doorway, I literally ran. At the other end of the veranda + I sank down upon the steps, and wept softly to myself. + </p> + <p> + 17. The launch arrived, bringing the nitrate of silver. A solution was + dropped into the baby’s eyes, and then we could do nothing but wait. I + might have lain down and really tried to rest; but the maid came again, + with the announcement that Sylvia was asking for her aunt. Excuses would + have tended to excite her suspicions; so poor Mrs. Tuis had to take her + turn at facing the ordeal, and I had to drill and coach her for it. I had + a vision of the poor lady going in to her niece, and suddenly collapsing. + Then there would begin a cross-examination, and Sylvia would worm out the + truth, and we might have a case of puerperal fever on our hands. + </p> + <p> + This I explained afresh to Mrs. Tuis, having taken her into her own room + and closed the door for that purpose. She clutched me with her shaking + hands and whispered, “Oh, Mrs. Abbott, you will <i>never</i> let Sylvia + find out what caused this trouble?” + </p> + <p> + I drew on my reserve supply of patience, and answered, “What I shall let + her find out in the end, I don’t know. We shall be guided by + circumstances, and this is no time to discuss the matter. The point is now + to make sure that you can go in and stay with her, and not let her get an + idea there’s anything wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you know how Sylvia reads people!” she cried, in sudden dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve fixed it for you,” I said. “I’ve provided something you can be + agitated about.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s <i>me.</i>” Then, seeing her look of bewilderment, “You must tell + her that I’ve affronted you, Mrs. Tuis; I’ve outraged your sense of + propriety. You’re indignant with me and you don’t see how you can remain + in the house with me—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Abbott!” she exclaimed, in horror. + </p> + <p> + “You know it’s truth to some extent,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The good lady drew herself up. “Mrs. Abbott, don’t tell me that I have + been so rude—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mrs. Tuis,” I laughed, “don’t stop to apologize just now. You have + not been lacking in courtesy, but I know how I must seem to you. I am a + Socialist. I have a raw, Western accent, and my hands are big—I’ve + lived on a farm all my life, and done my own work, and even plowed + sometimes. I have no idea of the charms and graces of life that are + everything to you. What is more than that, I am forward, and thrust my + opinions upon other people—” + </p> + <p> + She simply could not hear me. She was a-tremble with a new excitement. + Worse even than <i>opthalmia neonatorum</i> was plain speaking to a guest! + “Mrs. Abbott, you humiliate me!” + </p> + <p> + Then I spoke harshly, seeing that I would actually have to shock her. “I + assure you, Mrs. Tuis, that if you don’t feel that way about me, it’s + simply because you don’t know the truth. It is not possible that you would + consider me a proper person to visit Sylvia. I don’t believe in your + religion; I don’t believe in anything that you would call religion, and I + argue about it at the least provocation. I deliver violent harangues on + street-corners, and have been arrested during a strike. I believe in + woman’s suffrage, I even argue in approval of window-smashing. I believe + that women ought to earn their own living, and be independent and free + from any man’s control. I am a divorced woman—I left my husband + because I wasn’t happy with him, what’s more, I believe that any woman has + a right to do the same—I’m liable to teach such ideas to Sylvia, and + to urge her to follow them.” + </p> + <p> + The poor lady’s eyes were wide and large. “So you see,” I exclaimed, “you + really couldn’t approve of me! Tell her all this; she knows it already, + but she will be horrified, because I have let you and the doctor find it + out!” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Mrs. Tuis started to ascend the pedestal of her dignity. “Mrs. + Abbott, this may be your idea of a jest——” + </p> + <p> + “Now come,” I cried, “let me help you fix your hair, and put on just a wee + bit of powder—not enough to be noticed, you understand——” + </p> + <p> + I took her to the wash-stand, and poured out some cold water for her, and + saw her bathe her eyes and face, and dry them, and braid her thin grey + hair. While with a powder puff I was trying deftly to conceal the ravages + of the night’s crying, the dear lady turned to me, and whispered in a + trembling voice, “Mrs. Abbott, you really don’t mean that dreadful thing + you said just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Which dreadful thing, Mrs. Tuis?” + </p> + <p> + “That you would tell Sylvia it could possibly be right for her to leave + her husband?” + </p> + <p> + 18. In the course of the day we received word that Dr. Gibson, the + specialist for whom we had telegraphed, was on his way. The boat which + brought his message took back a letter from Dr. Perrin to Douglas van + Tuiver, acquainting him with the calamity which had befallen. We had + talked it over and agreed that there was nothing to be gained by + telegraphing the information. We did not wish any hint of the child’s + illness to leak into the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + I did not envy the great man the hour when he read that letter; although I + knew that the doctor had not failed to assure him that the victim of his + misdeeds should be kept in ignorance. Already the little man had begun to + drop hints to me on this subject. Unfortunate accidents happened, which + were not always to be blamed upon the husband, nor was it a thing to + contemplate lightly, the breaking up of a family. I gave a non-committal + answer, and changed the subject by asking the doctor not to mention my + presence in the household. If by any chance van Tuiver were to carry his + sorrows to Claire, I did not want my name brought up. + </p> + <p> + We managed to prevent Sylvia’s seeing the child that day and night, and + the next morning came the specialist. He held out no hope of saving any + remnant of the sight, but the child might be so fortunate as to escape + disfigurement—it did not appear that the eyeballs were destroyed, as + happens generally in these cases. This bit of consolation I still have: + that little Elaine, who sits by me as I write, has left in her pupils a + faint trace of the soft red-brown—just enough to remind us of what + we have lost, and keep fresh in our minds the memory of these sorrows. If + I wish to see what her eyes might have been, I look above my head to the + portrait of Sylvia’s noble ancestress, a copy made by a “tramp artist” in + Castleman County, and left with me by Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + There was the question of the care of the mother—the efforts to stay + the ravages of the germ in the tissues broken and weakened by the strain + of child-birth. We had to invent excuses for the presence of the new + doctor—and yet others for the presence of Dr. Overton, who came a + day later. And then the problem of the nourishing of the child. It would + be a calamity to have to put it upon the bottle, but on the other hand, + there were many precautions necessary to keep the infection from + spreading. + </p> + <p> + I remember vividly the first time that the infant was fed: all of us + gathered round, with matter-of-course professional air, as if these + elaborate hygienic ceremonies were the universal custom when newly-born + infants first taste their mothers’ milk. Standing in the background, I saw + Sylvia start with dismay, as she noted how pale and thin the poor little + one had become. It was hunger that caused the whimpering, so the nurse + declared, busying herself in the meantime to keep the tiny hands from the + mother’s face. The latter sank back and closed her eyes—nothing, it + seemed, could prevail over the ecstasy of that first marvellous sensation, + but afterwards she asked that I might stay with her, and as soon as the + others were gone, she unmasked the batteries of her suspicion upon me. + “Mary! What in the world has happened to my baby?” + </p> + <p> + So began a new stage in the campaign of lying. “It’s nothing, nothing. + Just some infection. It happens frequently.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is the cause of it?” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t tell. It may be a dozen things. There are so many possible + sources of infection about a birth. It’s not a very sanitary thing, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary! Look me in the face!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not deceiving me?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—it’s not really something serious? All these doctors—this + mystery—this vagueness!” + </p> + <p> + “It was your husband, my dear Sylvia, who sent the doctors—it was + his stupid man’s way of being attentive.” (This at Aunt Varina’s + suggestion—the very subtle lady!). + </p> + <p> + “Mary, I’m worried. My baby looks so badly, and I feel something is + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia,” I chided, “if you worry about it you will simply be + harming the child. Your milk may go wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s just it! That’s why you would not tell me the truth!” + </p> + <p> + We persuade ourselves that there are certain circumstances under which + lying is necessary, but always when we come to the lies we find them an + insult to the soul. Each day I perceived that I was getting in deeper—and + each day I watched Aunt Varina and the doctor busied to push me deeper + yet. + </p> + <p> + There had come a telegram from Douglas van Tuiver to Dr. Perrin, revealing + the matter which stood first in that gentleman’s mind. “I expect no + failure in your supply of the necessary tact.” By this vagueness we + perceived that he too was trusting no secrets to telegraph operators. Yet + for us it was explicit and illuminative. It recalled the tone of quiet + authority I had noted in his dealings with his chauffeur, and it sent me + off by myself for a while to shake my fist at all husbands. + </p> + <p> + 19. Mrs. Tuis, of course, had no need of any warning from the head of the + house. The voice of her ancestors guided her in all such emergencies. The + dear lady had got to know me quite well, at the more or less continuous + dramatic rehearsals we conducted; and now and then her trembling hands + would seek to fasten me in the chains of decency. “Mrs. Abbott, think what + a scandal there would be if Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver were to break with her + husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Mrs. Tuis-but on the other hand, think what might happen if + she were kept in ignorance in this matter. She might bear another child.” + </p> + <p> + I got a new realization of the chasms that lay between us. “Who are we,” + she whispered, “to interfere in these sacred matters? It is of souls, Mrs. + Abbot, and not bodies, that the Kingdom of Heaven is made.” + </p> + <p> + I took a minute or so to get my breath, and then I said, “What generally + happens in these cases is that God afflicts the woman with permanent + barrenness.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady bowed her head, and I saw the tears falling into her lap. “My + poor Sylvia!” she moaned, only half aloud. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence; I too almost wept. And finally, Aunt Varina looked up + at me, her faded eyes full of pleading. “It is hard for me to understand + such ideas as yours. You must tell me-can you really believe that it would + help Sylvia to know this-this dreadful secret?” + </p> + <p> + “It would help her in many ways,” I said. “She will be more careful of her + health-she will follow the doctor’s orders—-” + </p> + <p> + How quickly came the reply! “I will stay with her, and see that she does + that! I will be with her day and night.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you going to keep the secret from those who attend her? Her maid—the + child’s nurses—everyone who might by any chance use the same towel, + or a wash-basin, or a drinking-glass?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you exaggerate the danger! If that were true, more people would + meet with these accidents!” + </p> + <p> + “The doctors,” I said, “estimate that about ten per cent. of cases of this + disease are innocently acquired.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, these modern doctors!” she cried. “I never heard of such ideas!” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling. “My dear Mrs. Tuis, what do you imagine you know + about the prevalence of gonorrhea? Consider just one fact—that I + heard a college professor state publicly that in his opinion eighty-five + per cent. of the men students at his university were infected with some + venereal disease. And that is the pick of our young manhood—the sons + of our aristocracy!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that can’t be!” she exclaimed. “People would know of it! + </p> + <p> + “Who are ‘people’? The boys in your family know of it—if you could + get them to tell you. My two sons studied at a State university, and they + would bring me home what they heard—the gossip, the slang, the + horrible obscenity. Fourteen fellows in one dormitory using the same + bathroom—and on the wall you saw a row of fourteen syringes! And + they told that on themselves, it was the joke of the campus. They call the + disease a ‘dose’; and a man’s not supposed to be worthy the respect of his + fellows until he’s had his ‘dose’—the sensible thing is to get + several, till he can’t get any more. They think it’s ‘no worse than a bad + cold’; that’s the idea they get from the ‘clap-doctors,’ and the women of + the street who educate our sons in sex matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, spare me, spare me!” cried Mrs. Tuis. “I beg you not to force these + horrible details upon me!” + </p> + <p> + “That is what is going on among our boys,” I said. “The Castleman boys, + the Chilton boys! It’s going on in every fraternity house, every ‘prep + school’ dormitory in America. And the parents refuse to know, just as you + do!” + </p> + <p> + “But what could I possibly do, Mrs. Abbott?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, Mrs. Tuis. What <i>I</i> am going to do is to teach the + young girls.” + </p> + <p> + She whispered, aghast, “You would rob the young girls of their innocence. + Why, with their souls full of these ideas their faces would soon be as + hard—oh, you horrify me!” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter’s face is not hard,” I said. “And I taught her. Stop and + think, Mrs. Tuis—ten thousand blind children every year! A hundred + thousand women under the surgeon’s knife! Millions of women going to + pieces with slowly creeping diseases of which they never hear the names! I + say, let us cry this from the housetops, until every woman knows—and + until every man knows that she knows, and that unless he can prove that he + is clean he will lose her! That is the remedy, Mrs. Tuis!” + </p> + <p> + Poor dear lady! I got up and went away, leaving her there, with clenched + hands and trembling lips. I suppose I seemed to her like the mad women who + were just then rising up to horrify the respectability of England—a + phenomenon of Nature too portentous to be comprehended, or even to be + contemplated, by a gentlewoman of the South! + </p> + <p> + 20. There came in due course a couple of letters from Douglas van Tuiver. + The one to Aunt Varina, which was shown to me, was vague and cautious—as + if the writer were uncertain how much this worthy lady knew. He merely + mentioned that Sylvia was to be spared every particle of “painful + knowledge.” He would wait in great anxiety, but he would not come, because + any change in his plans might set her to questioning. + </p> + <p> + The letter to Dr. Perrin was not shown to me; but I judged that it must + have contained more strenuous injunctions. Or had Aunt Varina by any + chance got up the courage to warn the young doctor against me? His hints, + at any rate, became more pointed. He desired me to realize how awkward it + would be for him, if Sylvia were to learn the truth; it would be + impossible to convince Mr. van Tuiver that this knowledge had not come + from the physician in charge. + </p> + <p> + “But, Dr. Perrin,” I objected, “it was I who brought the information to + you! And Mr. van Tuiver knows that I am a radical woman; he would not + expect me to be ignorant of such matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Abbott,” was the response, “it is a grave matter to destroy the + possibility of happiness of a young married couple.” + </p> + <p> + However I might dispute his theories, in practice I was doing what he + asked. But each day I was finding the task more difficult; each day it + became more apparent that Sylvia was ceasing to believe me. I realized at + last, with a sickening kind of fright, that she knew I was hiding + something from her. Because she knew me, and knew that I would not do such + a thing lightly, she was terrified. She would lie there, gazing at me, + with a dumb fear in her eyes—and I would go on asseverating blindly, + like an unsuccessful actor before a jeering audience. + </p> + <p> + A dozen times she made an effort to break through the barricade of + falsehood; and a dozen times I drove her back, all but crying to her, “No, + No! Don’t ask me!” Until at last, late one night, she caught my hand and + clung to it in a grip I could not break. “Mary! Mary! You must tell me the + <i>truth!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Dear girl—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she cried. “I know you are deceiving me! I know why—because + I’ll make myself ill. But it won’t do any longer; it’s preying on me, Mary—I’ve + taken to imagining things. So you must tell me the truth!” + </p> + <p> + I sat, avoiding her eyes, beaten; and in the pause I could feel her hands + shaking. “Mary, what is it? Is my baby going to die?” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, indeed no!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Then what?” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I began, as quietly as I could, “the truth is not as bad as you + imagine—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what it is!” + </p> + <p> + “But it is bad, Sylvia. And you must be brave. You must be, for your + baby’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “The baby,” I said, “may be blind.” + </p> + <p> + “Blind!” There we sat, gazing into each other’s eyes, like two statues of + women. But the grasp of her hand tightened, until even my big fist was + hurt. “Blind!” she whispered again. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I rushed on, “it isn’t so bad as it might be! Think—if you + had lost her altogether!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Blind!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “You will have her always; and you can do things for her—take care + of her. They do wonders for the blind nowadays—and you have the + means; to do everything. Really, you know, blind children are not unhappy—some + of them are happier than other children, I think. They haven’t so much to + miss. Think—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, wait,” she whispered; and again there was silence, and I clung to + her cold hands. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” I said, at last, “you have a newly-born infant to nurse, and its + very life depends upon your health now. You cannot let yourself grieve.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she responded. “No. But, Mary, what caused this?” + </p> + <p> + So there was the end of my spell of truth-telling. “I don’t know, dear. + Nobody knows. There might be a thousand things—” + </p> + <p> + “Was it born blind?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then was it the doctor’s fault?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was nobody’s fault. Think of the thousands and tens of thousands + of babies that become blind! It’s a dreadful accident that happens.” So I + went on—possessed with a dread that had been with me for days, that + had kept me awake for hours in the night: Had I, in any of my talks with + Sylvia about venereal disease, mentioned blindness in infants as one of + the consequences? I could not rememher; but now was the time I would find + out! + </p> + <p> + She lay there, immovable, like a woman who had died in grief; until at + last I flung my arms about her and whispered, “Sylvia! Sylvia! Please + cry!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t cry!” she whispered, and her voice sounded hard. + </p> + <p> + So, after a space, I said, “Then, dear, I think I will have to make you + laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “Laugh, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes-I will tell you about the quarrel between Aunt Varina and myself. You + know what times we’ve been having-how I shocked the poor lady?” + </p> + <p> + She was looking at me, but her eyes were not seeing me. “Yes, Mary,” she + said, in the same dead tone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was a game we made for you. It was very funny!” + </p> + <p> + “Funny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Because I really did shock her-though we started out just to give + you something else to think about!” + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly I saw the healing tears begin to come. She could not + weep for her own grief-but she could weep because of what she knew we two + had had to suffer for her! + </p> + <p> + 21. I went out and told the others what I had done; and Mrs. Tuis rushed + in to her niece and they wept in each other’s arms, and Mrs. Tuis + explained all the mysteries of life by her formula, “the will of the + Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Later on came Dr. Perrin, and it was touching to see how Sylvia treated + him. She had, it appeared, conceived the idea that the calamity must be + due to some blunder on his part, and then she had reflected that he was + young, and that chance had thrown upon him a responsibility for which he + had not bargained. He must be reproaching himself bitterly, so she had to + persuade him that it was really not so bad as we were making it-that a + blind child was a great joy to a mother’s soul-in some ways even a greater + joy than a perfectly sound child, because it appealed so to her protective + instinct! I had called Sylvia a shameless payer of compliments, and now I + went away by myself and wept. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was true in a way. When the infant was brought in to be nursed + again, how she clung to it, a very picture of the sheltering and + protecting instinct of motherhood! She knew the worst now—her mind + was free, and she could partake of what happiness was allowed her. The + child was hers to love and care for, and she would find ways to atone to + it for the harshness of fate. + </p> + <p> + So little by little we got our existence upon a working basis. We lived a + peaceful, routine life, to the music of cocoanut-palms rustling in the + warm breezes which blew incessantly off the Mexican Gulf. Aunt Varina had, + for the time, her undisputed way with the family; her niece reclined upon + the veranda in true Southern lady fashion, and was read aloud to from + books of indisputable respectability. I remember Aunt Varina selected the + “Idylls of the King,” and they two were in a mood to shed tears over these + solemn, sorrowful tales. So it came that the little one got her name, + after a pale and unhappy heroine. + </p> + <p> + I remember the long discussions of this point, the family-lore which Aunt + Varina brought forth. It did not seem to her quite the thing to call a + blind child after a member of one’s family. Something strange, romantic, + wistful—yes, Elaine was the name! Mrs. Tuis, it transpired, had + already baptised the infant, in the midst of the agonies and alarms of its + illness. She had called it “Sylvia,” and now she was tremulously uncertain + whether this counted—whether perhaps the higher powers might object + to having to alter their records. But in the end a clergyman came out from + Key West and heard Aunt Varina’s confession, and gravely concluded that + the error might be corrected by a formal ceremony. How strange it all + seemed to me—being carried back two or three hundred years in the + world’s history! But I gave no sign of what was going on in my rebellious + mind. + </p> + <p> + 22. Dr. Overton on his return to New York, sent a special nurse to take + charge of Sylvia’s case. There was also an infant’s nurse, and both had + been taken into the doctor’s confidence. So now there was an elaborate + conspiracy—no less than five women and two men, all occupied in + keeping a secret from Sylvia. It was a thing so contrary to my convictions + that I was never free from the burden of it for a moment. Was it my duty + to tell her? + </p> + <p> + Dr. Perrin no longer referred to the matter—I realised that both he + and Dr. Gibson considered the matter settled. Was it conceivable that + anyone of sound mind could set out, deliberately and in cold blood, to + betray such a secret? But I had maintained all my life the right of woman + to know the truth, and was I to back down now, at the first test of my + convictions? + </p> + <p> + When the news reached Douglas van Tuiver that his wife had been informed + of the infant’s blindness, there came a telegram saying that he was + coming. There was much excitement, of course, and Aunt Varina came to me, + in an attempt to secure a definite pledge of silence. When I refused it, + Dr. Perrin came again, and we fought the matter over for the better part + of a day and night. + </p> + <p> + He was a polite little gentleman, and he did not tell me that my views + were those of a fanatic, but he said that no woman could see things in + their true proportion, because of her necessary ignorance concerning the + nature of men, and the temptations to which they were exposed. I replied + that I believed I understood these matters thoroughly, and I went on, + quite simply and honestly, to make clear to him that this was so. In the + end my pathetically chivalrous little Southern gentleman admitted + everything I asked. Yes, it was true that these evils were ghastly, and + that they were increasing, and that women were the worst sufferers from + men. There might even be something in my idea that the older women of the + community should devote themselves to this service, making themselves + race-mothers, and helping, not merely in their homes, but in the schools + and churches, to protect and save the future generations. But all that was + in the future, he argued, while here was a case which had gone so far that + “letting in the light” could only blast the life of two people, making it + impossible for a young mother ever again to tolerate the father of her + child. I argued that Sylvia was not of the hysterical type, but I could + not make him agree that it was possible to predict what the attitude of + any woman would be. His ideas were based on one peculiar experience he had + had—a woman patient who had said to him: “Doctor, I know what is the + matter with me, but for God’s sake don’t let my husband find out that I + know, because then I should feel that my self-respect required me to leave + him!” + </p> + <p> + 23. The Master-of-the-House was coming! You could feel the quiver of + excitement in the air of the place. The boatmen were polishing the brasses + of the launch; the yard-man was raking up the dry strips of palm from + beneath the cocoanut trees; Aunt Varina was ordering new supplies, and + entering into conspiracies with the cook. The nurses asked me timidly, + what was He like, and even Dr. Gibson, a testy old gentleman who had + clashed violently with me on the subject of woman’s suffrage, and had + avoided me ever since as a suspicious character, now came and confided his + troubles. He had sent home for a trunk, and the graceless express + companies had sent it astray. Now he was wondering if it was necessary for + him to journey to Key West and have a suit of dinner clothes made over + night. I told him that I had not sent for any party-dresses, and that I + expected to meet Mr. Douglas van Tuiver at his dinner-table in plain white + linen. His surprise was so great that I suspected the old gentleman of + having wondered whether I meant to retire to a “second-table” when the + Master-of-the-House arrived. + </p> + <p> + I went away by myself, seething with wrath. Who was this great one whom we + honoured? Was he an inspired poet, a maker of laws, a discoverer of truth? + He was the owner of an indefinite number of millions of dollars—that + was all, and yet I was expected, because of my awe of him, to abandon the + cherished convictions of my lifetime. The situation was one that + challenged my fighting blood. This was the hour to prove whether I really + meant the things I talked. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the day that van Tuiver was expected, I went early to + Aunt Varina’s room. She was going in the launch, and was in a state of + flustration, occupied in putting on her best false hair. “Mrs. Tuis,” I + said, “I want you to let me go to meet Mr. van Tuiver instead of you.” + </p> + <p> + I will not stop to report the good lady’s outcries. I did not care, I + said, whether it was proper, nor did I care whether, as she finally + hinted, it might not be agreeable to Mr. van Tuiver. I was sorry to have + to thrust myself upon him, but I was determined to go, and would let + nothing prevent me. And all at once she yielded, rather surprising me by + the suddenness of it. I suppose she concluded that van Tuiver was the man + to handle me, and the quicker he got at it the better. + </p> + <p> + It is a trying thing to deal with the rich and great. If you treat them as + the rest of the world does, you are a tuft-hunter; if you treat them as + the rest of the world pretends to, you are a hypocrite; whereas, if you + deal with them truly, it is hard not to seem, even to yourself, a + bumptious person. I remember trying to tell myself on the launch-trip that + I was not in the least excited; and then, standing on the platform of the + railroad station, saying: “How can you expect not to be excited, when even + the railroad is excited?” + </p> + <p> + “Will Mr. van Tuiver’s train be on time?” I asked, of the agent. + </p> + <p> + “‘Specials’ are not often delayed,” he replied, “at least, not Mr. van + Tuiver’s.” + </p> + <p> + The engine and its two cars drew up, and the traveller stepped out upon + the platform, followed by his secretary and his valet. I went forward to + meet him. “Good morning, Mr. van Tuiver.” + </p> + <p> + I saw at once that he did not remember me. “Mrs. Abbott,” I prompted. “I + came to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he said. He had never got clear whether I was a sewing-woman, or a + tutor, or what, and whenever he erred in such matters, it was on the side + of caution. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife is doing well,” I said, “and the child as well as could be + expected.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said. “Did no one else come?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tuis was not able,” I said, diplomatically, and we moved towards the + launch. + </p> + <p> + 24. He did not offer to help me into the vessel, but I, crude Western + woman, did not miss the attention. We seated ourselves in the upholstered + leather seats in the stern, and when the “luggage” had been stowed aboard, + the little vessel swung away from the pier. Then I said: “If you will + pardon me, Mr. van Tuiver, I should like to talk with you privately.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me for a moment, and then answered, abruptly: “Yes, madam.” + The secretary rose and went forward. + </p> + <p> + The whirr of the machinery and the strong breeze made by the boat’s + motion, made it certain that no one could hear us, and so I began my + attack: “Mr. van Tuiver, I am a friend of your wife’s. I came here to help + her in this crisis, and I came to-day to meet you because it was necessary + for someone to talk to you frankly about the situation. You will + understand, I presume, that Mrs. Tuis is not—not very well informed + about the matters in question.” + </p> + <p> + His gaze was fixed intently upon me, but he said not a word. After + waiting, I continued: “Perhaps you will wonder why your wife’s physicians + could not have handled the matter. The reason is, there is a woman’s side + to such questions and often it is difficult for men to understand it. If + Sylvia knew the truth, she could speak for herself; so long as she does + not know it, I shall have to take the liberty of speaking for her.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause. He did nothing more than watch me, yet I could + feel his affronted maleness rising up for battle. I waited on purpose to + compel him to speak. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” he inquired, at last, “what you mean by the ‘truth’ that you + refer to?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” I said, “the cause of the infant’s affliction.” + </p> + <p> + His composure was a thing to wonder at. He did not show by the flicker of + an eyelash any sign of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Let me explain one thing,” I continued. “I owe it to Dr. Perrin to make + clear that he had nothing whatever to do with my coming into possession of + the secret. In fact, as he will no doubt tell you, I knew it before he + did; it is possible that you owe it to me that the infant is not + disfigured as well as blind.” + </p> + <p> + I paused again. “If that be true,” he said, with unshaken formality, “I am + obliged to you.” What a man! + </p> + <p> + I continued: “My one desire and purpose is to protect my friend. So far, + the secret has been kept from her. I consented to this, because her very + life was at stake, it seemed to us all. But now she is well enough to + know, and the question is SHALL she know. I need hardly tell you that Dr. + Perrin thinks she should not, and that he has been using his influence to + persuade me to agree with him; so also has Mrs. Tuis——” + </p> + <p> + Then I saw the first trace of uncertainty in his eyes. “There was a + critical time,” I explained, “when Mrs. Tuis had to be told. You may be + sure, however, that no hint of the truth will be given by her. I am the + only person who is troubled with the problem of Sylvia’s rights.” + </p> + <p> + I waited. “May I suggest, Mrs.—Mrs. Abbott—that the protection + of Mrs. van Tuiver’s rights can be safely left to her physicians and her + husband?” + </p> + <p> + “One would wish so, Mr. van Tuiver, but the medical books are full of + evidence that women’s rights frequently need other protection.” + </p> + <p> + I perceived that he was nearing the end of his patience now. “You make it + difficult for me to talk to you,” he said. “I am not accustomed to having + my affairs taken out of my hands by strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. van Tuiver,” I replied, “in this most critical matter it is necessary + to speak without evasion. Before her marriage Sylvia made an attempt to + safeguard herself in this very matter, and she was not dealt with fairly.” + </p> + <p> + At last I had made a hole in the mask! His face was crimson as he replied: + “Madam, your knowledge of my private affairs is most astonishing. May I + inquire how you learned these things?” + </p> + <p> + I did not reply at once, and he repeated the question. I perceived that + this was to him the most important matter—his wife’s lack of + reserve! + </p> + <p> + “The problem that concerns us here,” I said, “is whether you are willing + to repair the error you made. Will you go frankly to your wife and admit + your responsibility——” + </p> + <p> + He broke in, angrily: “Madam, the assumption you are making is one I see + no reason for permitting.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. van Tuiver,” said I, “I hoped that you would not take that line of + argument. I perceive that I have been <i>naive.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Really, madam!” he replied, with cruel intent, “you have not impressed me + so!” + </p> + <p> + I continued unshaken: “In this conversation it will be necessary to assume + that you are responsible for the presence of the disease.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” he replied, haughtily, “I can have no further part in the + conversation, and I will ask you to drop it at once.” + </p> + <p> + I might have taken him at his word and waited, confident that in the end + he would have to come and ask for terms. But that would have seemed + childish to me, with the grave matters we had to settle. After a minute or + two, I said, quietly: “Mr. van Tuiver, you wish me to believe that + previous to your marriage you had always lived a chaste life?” + </p> + <p> + He was equal to the effort it cost to control himself. He sat examining me + with his cold grey eyes. I suppose I must have been as new and monstrous a + phenomenon to him as he was to me. + </p> + <p> + At last, seeing that he would not reply, I said, coldly: “It will help us + to get forward if you will give up the idea that it is possible for you to + put me off, or to escape this situation.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he cried, suddenly, “come to the point! What is it that you want? + Money?” + </p> + <p> + I had thought I was prepared for everything; but this was an aspect of his + world which I could hardly have been expected to allow for. I stared at + him and then turned from the sight of him. “And to think that Sylvia is + married to such a man!” I whispered, half to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Abbott,” he exclaimed, “how can anyone understand what you are + driving at?” + </p> + <p> + But I turned away without answering, and for a long time sat gazing over + the water. What was the use of pleading with such a man? What was the use + of pouring out one’s soul to him? I would tell Sylvia the truth at once, + and leave him to her! + </p> + <p> + 25. I heard him again, at last; he was talking to my back, his tone a + trifle less aloof. “Mrs. Abbott, do you realize that I know nothing + whatever about you—your character, your purpose, the nature of your + hold upon my wife? So what means have I of judging? You threaten me with + something that seems to me entirely insane—and what can I make of + it? If you wish me to understand you, tell me in plain words what you + want.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected that I was in the world, and must take it as I found it. “I + have told you what I want,” I said; “but I will tell you again, if it is + necessary. I hoped to persuade you that it was your duty to go to your + wife and tell her the truth.” + </p> + <p> + He took a few moments to make sure of his self-possession. “And would you + explain what good you imagine that could do?” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife,” I said, “must be put in position to protect herself in + future. There is no means of making sure in such a matter, except to tell + her the truth. You love her—and you are a man who has never been + accustomed to do without what he wants.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God, woman!” he cried. “Don’t you suppose one blind child is + enough?” + </p> + <p> + It was the first human word that he had spoken, and I was grateful for it. + “I have already covered that point,” I said, in a low voice. “The medical + books are full of painful evidence that several blind children are often + not enough. There can be no escaping the necessity—Sylvia must <i>know.</i> + The only question is, who shall tell her? You must realize that in urging + you to be the person, I am thinking of your good as well as hers. I will, + of course, not mention that I have had anything to do with persuading you, + and so it will seem to her that you have some realization of the wrong you + have done her, some desire to atone for it, and to be honourable and fair + in your future dealings with her. When she has once been made to realize + that you are no more guilty than other men of your class—hat you + have done no worse than all of them—— + </p> + <p> + “You imagine she could be made to believe that?” he broke in, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I will undertake to see that she believes it,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have great confidence in your ability to manage my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “If you continue to resent my existence,” I answered, gravely, “you will + make it impossible for me to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he said—but he did not say it cordially. + </p> + <p> + I went on: “There is much that can be said in your behalf. I realize it is + quite possible that you were not wholly to blame when you wrote to Bishop + Chilton that you were fit to marry; I know that you may have believed it—that + you might even have found physicians to tell you so. There is wide-spread + ignorance on the subject of this disease. Men have the idea that the + chronic forms of it cannot be communicated to women, and it is difficult + to make them realize what modern investigations have proven. You can + explain that to Sylvia, and I will back you up in it. You were in love + with her, you wanted her. Go to her now, and admit to her honestly that + you have wronged her. Beg her to forgive you, and to let you help make the + best of the cruel situation that has arisen.” + </p> + <p> + So I went on, pouring out my soul. And when I had finished, he said, “Mrs. + Abbott, I have listened patiently to your most remarkable proposition. My + answer is that I must ask you to withdraw from this intimate matter, which + concerns only my wife and myself.” + </p> + <p> + He was back where we started! Trying to sweep aside these grim and + terrible realities with the wave of a conventional hand! Was this the way + he met Sylvia’s arguments? I felt moved to tell him what I thought of him. + </p> + <p> + “You are a proud man, Mr. van Tuiver—an obstinate man, I fear. It is + hard for you to humble yourself to your wife—to admit a crime and + beg forgiveness. Tell me—is that why you hesitate? Is it because you + fear you will have to take second place in your family from now on—that + you will no longer be able to dominate Sylvia? Are you afraid of putting + into her hands a weapon of self-defence?” + </p> + <p> + He made no response. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, at last. “Let me tell you, then—I will not help + any man to hold such a position in a woman’s life. Women have to bear half + the burdens of marriage, they pay half, or more than half, the penalties; + and so it is necessary that they have a voice in its affairs. Until they + know the truth, they can never have a voice.” + </p> + <p> + Of course my little lecture on Feminism might as well have been delivered + to a sphinx. “How stupid you are!” I cried. “Don’t you know that some day + Sylvia must find out the truth for herself?” + </p> + <p> + This was before the days when newspapers and magazines began to discuss + such matters frankly; but still there were hints to be picked up. I had a + newspaper-item in my bag—the board of health in a certain city had + issued a circular giving instructions for the prevention of blindness in + newly-born infants, and discussing the causes thereof; and the United + States post office authorities had barred the circular from the mails. I + said, “Suppose that item had come under Sylvia’s eyes; might it not have + put her on the track. It was in her newspaper the day before yesterday; + and it was only by accident that I got hold of it first. Do you suppose + that can go on forever?” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I am here,” he replied, “I will be glad to relieve you of such + responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + Which naturally made me cross. I drew from my quiver an arrow that I + thought would penetrate his skin. “Mr. van Tuiver,” I said, “a man in your + position must always be an object of gossip and scandal. Suppose some + enemy were to send your wife an anonymous letter? Or suppose there were + some woman who thought that you had wronged her?” + </p> + <p> + I stopped. He gave me one keen look—and then again the impenetrable + mask! “My wife will have to do as other women in her position do—pay + no attention to scandal-mongers of any sort.” + </p> + <p> + I paused, and then went on: “I believe in marriage. I consider it a sacred + thing; I would do anything in my power to protect and preserve a marriage. + But I hold that it must be an equal partnership. I would fight to make it + that; and wherever I found that it could not be that, I would say it was + not marriage, but slavery, and I would fight just as hard to break it. Can + you not understand that attitude upon a woman’s part?” + </p> + <p> + He gave no sign that he could understand. But still I would not give up my + battle. “Mr. van Tuiver,” I pleaded, “I am a much older person than you. I + have seen a great deal of life—I have seen suffering even worse than + yours. And I am trying most earnestly to help you. Can you not bring + yourself to talk to me frankly? Perhaps you have never talked with a woman + about such matters—I mean, with a good woman. But I assure you that + other men have found it possible, and never regretted the confidence they + placed in me.” + </p> + <p> + I went on to tell him about my own sons, and what I had done for them; I + told him of a score of other boys in their class who had come to me, + making me a sort of mother-confessor. I do not think that I was entirely + deceived by my own eloquence—there was, I am sure, a minute or two + when he actually wavered. But then the habits of a precocious life-time + reasserted themselves, and he set his lips and told himself that he was + Douglas van Tuiver. Such things might happen in raw Western colleges, but + they were not according to the Harvard manner, nor the tradition of life + in Fifth Avenue clubs. + </p> + <p> + He could not be a boy! He had never had any boyhood, any childhood—he + had been a state personage ever since he had known that he was anything. I + found myself thinking suddenly of the thin-lipped old family lawyer, who + had had much to do with shaping his character, and whom Sylvia described + to me, sitting at her dinner-table and bewailing the folly of people who + “admitted things.” That was what made trouble for family lawyers—not + what people did, but what they admitted. How easy it was to ignore + impertinent questions! And how few people had the wit to do it!-it seemed + as if the shade of the thin-lipped old family lawyer were standing by + Douglas van Tuiver’s side. + </p> + <p> + In a last desperate effort, I cried, “Even suppose that I grant your + request, even suppose I agree not to tell Sylvia the truth—still the + day will come when you will hear from her the point-blank question: ‘Is my + child blind because of this disease?’ And what will you answer?” + </p> + <p> + He said, in his cold, measured tones, “I will answer that there are a + thousand ways in which the disease can be innocently acquired.” + </p> + <p> + For a long time there was silence between us. At last he spoke again, and + his voice was as emotionless as if we had just met: “Do I understand you, + madam, that if I reject your advice and refuse to tell my wife what you + call the truth, it is your intention to tell her yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “You understand me correctly,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask when you intend to carry out this threat?” + </p> + <p> + “I will wait,” I said, “I will give you every chance to think it over—to + consult with the doctors, in case you wish to. I will not take the step + without giving you fair notice.” + </p> + <p> + “For that I am obliged to you,” he said, with a touch of irony; and that + was our last word. + </p> + <p> + 26. Our island was visible in the distance and I was impatient for the + time when I should be free from this man’s presence. But as we drew + nearer, I noticed a boat coming out; it proved to be one of the smaller + launches heading directly for us. Neither van Tuiver nor I spoke, but both + of us watched it, and he must have been wondering, as I was, what its + purpose could be. When it was near enough, I made out that its passengers + were Dr. Perrin and Dr. Gibson. + </p> + <p> + We slowed up, and the other boat did the same, and they lay within a few + feet of each other. Dr. Perrin greeted van Tuiver, and after introducing + the other man, he said: “We came out to have a talk with you. Would you be + so good as to step into this boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the reply. The two launches were drawn side by side, and + the transfer made; the man who was running the smaller launch stepped into + ours—evidently having been instructed in advance. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse us please?” said the little doctor to me. The man who had + stepped into our launch spoke to the captain of it, and the power was then + put on, and we moved away a sufficient distance to be out of hearing. I + thought this a strange procedure, but I conjectured that the doctors had + become nervous as to what I might have told van Tuiver. So I dismissed the + matter from my mind, and spent my time reviewing the exciting adventure I + had just passed through. + </p> + <p> + How much impression had I made? It was hard for me to judge such a man. He + would pretend to be less concerned than he actually was. But surely he + must see that he was in my power, and would have to give way in the end! + </p> + <p> + There came a hail from the little vessel, and we moved alongside again. + “Would you kindly step in here with us, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin, and + when I had done so, he ordered the boatman to move away once more. Van + Tuiver said not a word, but I noted a strained look upon his face, and I + thought the others seemed agitated also. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the other vessel was out of hearing, Dr. Perrin turned to me + and said: “Mrs. Abbott, we came out to see Mr. van Tuiver, to warn him of + a distressing accident which has just happened. Mrs. van Tuiver was asleep + in her room, and Miss Lyman and another of the nurses were in the next + room. They indiscreetly made some remarks on the subject which we have all + been discussing—how much a wife should be told about these matters, + and suddenly they discovered Mrs. van Tuiver standing in the doorway of + the room.” + </p> + <p> + My gaze had turned to Douglas van Tuiver. “So she <i>knows!</i>” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t think that she knows, but she has a suspicion and is trying to + find out. She asked to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “She declared that she wished to see you as soon as you returned—that + she would not see anyone else, not even Mr. van Tuiver. You will + understand that this portends trouble for all of us. We judged it + necessary to have a consultation about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed in assent. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Abbot,” began the little doctor, solemnly, “there is no longer + a question of abstract ideas, but of an immediate emergency. We feel that + we, as the physicians in charge of the case, have the right to take + control of the matter. We do not see——” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “let us come to the point. You want me to spin a new + web of deception?” + </p> + <p> + “We are of the opinion, Mrs. Abbott, that in such matters the physicians + in charge——” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” I said, quickly, “we have been over all this before, and we + know that we disagree. Has Mr. van Tuiver told you of the proposition I + have just made?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean for him to go to his wife——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He has told us of this, and has offered to do it. We are of the opinion + that it would be a grave mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been three weeks since the birth of the baby,” I said. “Surely all + danger of fever is past. I will grant you that if it were a question of + telling her deliberately, it might be better to put it off for a while. I + would have been willing to wait for months, but for the fact that I + dreaded something like the present situation. Now that it has happened, + surely it is best to use our opportunity while all of us are here and can + persuade her to take the kindest attitude towards her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” broke in Dr. Gibson. (He was having difficulty in controlling his + excitement.) “You are asking us to overstep the bounds of our professional + duty. It is not for the physician to decide upon the attitude a wife + should take toward her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Gibson,” I replied, “that is what you propose to do, only you wish to + conceal the fact. You would force Mrs. van Tuiver to accept your opinion + of what a wife’s duty is.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Perrin took command once more. “Our patient has asked for you, and she + looks to you for guidance. You must put aside your own convictions and + think of her health. You are the only person who can calm her, and surely + it is your duty to do so!” + </p> + <p> + “I know that I might go in and lie again to my friend, but she knows too + much to be deceived for very long. You know what a mind she has—a + lawyer’s mind! How can I persuade her that the nurses—why, I do not + even know what she heard the nurses say!” + </p> + <p> + “We have that all written down for you,” put in Dr. Perrin, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You have their recollection of it, no doubt—but suppose they have + forgotten some of it? Sylvia has not forgotten, you may be sure—every + word is burned with fire into her brain. She has put with this everything + she ever heard on the subject—the experience of her friend, Harriet + Atkinson-all that I’ve told her in the past about such things——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” growled Dr. Gibson. “That’s it! If you had not meddled in the + beginning——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” said the other, soothingly. “You ask me to relieve you of the + embarrassment of this matter. I quite agree with Mrs. Abbott that there is + too much ignorance about these things, but she must recognise, I am sure, + that this is not the proper moment for enlightening Mrs. van Tuiver.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not recognise it at all,” I said. “If her husband will go to her and + tell her humbly and truthfully——” + </p> + <p> + “You are talking madness!” cried the old man, breaking loose again. “She + would be hysterical—she would regard him as something loathsome—some + kind of criminal——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she would be shocked,” I said, “but she has the coolest head of + anyone I know—I do not think of any man I would trust so fully to + take a rational attitude in the end. We can explain to her what + extenuating circumstances there are, and she will have to recognise them. + She will see that we are considering her rights——” + </p> + <p> + “Her <i>rights!</i>” The old man fairly snorted the words. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now, Dr. Gibson!” interposed the other. “You asked me——” + </p> + <p> + “I know! I know! But as the older of the physicians in charge of this case——” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Perrin managed to frown him down, and went on trying to placate me. + But through the argument I could hear the old man muttering in his collar + a kind of double bass <i>pizzicato</i>: “Suffragettes! Fanatics! Hysteria! + Woman’s Rights!” + </p> + <p> + 27. The breeze was feeble, and the sun was blazing hot, but nevertheless I + made myself listen patiently for a while. They had said it all to me, over + and over again; but it seemed that Dr. Perrin could not be satisfied until + it had been said in Douglas van Tuiver’s presence. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I exclaimed, “even supposing we make the attempt to deceive + her, we have not one plausible statement to make——” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Mrs. Abbott,” said he. “We have the perfectly + well-known fact that this disease is often contracted in ways which + involve no moral blame. And in this case I believe I am in position to + state how the accident happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether you heard that just before Mrs. van Tuiver’s + confinement, I was called away to one of the other keys to attend a + negro-woman. And since this calamity has befallen us, I have realized that + I was possibly not as careful in sterilizing my instruments as I might + have been. It is of course a dreadful thing for any physician to have to + believe——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and there was a long silence. I gazed from one to another of + the men. Two of them met my gaze; one did not. “He is going to let you say + that?” I whispered, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Honour and fairness compel me to say it, Mrs. Abbott. I believe——” + </p> + <p> + But I interrupted him. “Listen to me, Dr. Perrin. You are a chivalrous + gentleman, and you think you are helping a man in desperate need. But I + say that anyone who would permit you to tell such a tale is a contemptible + coward!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” cried Dr. Gibson, furiously, “there is a limit even to a woman’s + rights!” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed. At last I resumed, in a low voice, “You gentlemen have + your code: you protect the husband—you protect him at all hazards. I + could understand this, if he were innocent of the offence in question; I + could understand it if there were any possibility of his being innocent. + But how can you protect him, when you know that he is guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no question of such knowledge!” cried the old doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” I said, “how much he has admitted to you; but let me + remind you of one circumstance, which is known to Dr. Perrin—that I + came to this place with the definite information that symptoms of the + disease were to be anticipated. Dr. Perrin knows that I told that to Dr. + Overton in New York. Has he informed you of it?” + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward interval. I glanced at van Tuiver, and I saw that he + was leaning forward, staring at me. I thought he was about to speak, when + Dr. Gibson broke in, excitedly, “All this is beside the mark! We have a + serious emergency to face, and we are not getting anywhere. As the older + of the physicians in charge of this case——” + </p> + <p> + And he went on to give me a lecture on the subject of authority. He talked + for five minutes, ten minutes—I lost all track of the time. I had + suddenly begun to picture how I would act and what I would say when I went + into Sylvia’s room. What a state must Sylvia be in, while we sat out here + in the blazing mid-day sun, discussing her right to freedom and knowledge! + </p> + <p> + 28. “I have always been positive,” Dr. Gibson was saying, “but the present + discussion has made me more positive than ever. As the older of the + physicians in charge of this case, I say most emphatically that the + patient shall not be told!” + </p> + <p> + I could not stand him any longer. “I am going to tell the patient,” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “You shall <i>not</i> tell her!” + </p> + <p> + “But how will you prevent me?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not <i>see</i> her!” + </p> + <p> + “But she is determined to see <i>me!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “She will be told that you are not there.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long do you imagine that that will satisfy her?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. They looked at van Tuiver, expecting him to speak. And + so I heard once more his cold, deliberate voice. “We have done all we can. + There can no longer be any question as to the course to be taken. Mrs. + Abbott will not return to my home.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I cried. I stared at him, aghast. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say—that you will not be taken back to the island.” + </p> + <p> + “But where will I be taken?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be taken to the mainland.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at the others. No one gave a sign. At last I whispered, “You + would <i>dare?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “You leave us no other alternative,” replied the master. + </p> + <p> + “You—you will practically kidnap me!” My voice must have been rather + wild at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “You left my home of your own free will. I think I need hardly point out + to you that I am not compelled to invite you back to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will Sylvia——” I stopped; appalled at the vista the + words opened up. + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” said van Tuiver, “will ultimately choose between her husband + and her most remarkable acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “And you gentlemen?” I turned to the others. “You would give your sanction + to this outrageous action?” + </p> + <p> + “As the older of the physicians in charge of this case——” + began Dr. Gibson. + </p> + <p> + I turned to van Tuiver again. “When your wife finds out what you have done + to me—what will you answer?” + </p> + <p> + “We will deal with that situation when we come to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I said, “you understand that sooner or later I shall get word + to her!” + </p> + <p> + He answered, “We shall assume from now on that you are a mad woman, and + shall take our precautions accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a silence. + </p> + <p> + “The launch will return to the mainland,” said van Tuiver at last. “It + will remain there until Mrs. Abbott sees fit to go ashore. May I ask if + she has sufficient money in her purse to take her to New York?” + </p> + <p> + I could not help laughing. The thing was so wild—and yet I could see + that from their point of view it was the only thing to do. “Mrs. Abbott is + not certain that she is going back to New York,” I replied. “If she does + go, it will not be with Mr. van Tuiver’s money.” + </p> + <p> + “One thing more,” said Dr. Perrin. It was the first time he had spoken + since van Tuiver’s incredible announcement. “I trust, Mrs. Abbott, that + this unfortunate situation may at all costs be concealed from servants, + and from the world in general.” + </p> + <p> + From which I realized how badly I had them frightened. They actually saw + me making physical resistance! + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Perrin,” I replied, “I am acting in this matter for my friend. I will + add this: that I believe that you are letting yourself be overborne, and + that you will regret it some day.” + </p> + <p> + He made no answer. Douglas van Tuiver put an end to the discussion by + rising and signalling the other launch. When it had come alongside, he + said to the captain, “Mrs. Abbott is going back to the railroad. You will + take her at once.” + </p> + <p> + Then he waited; I was malicious enough to give him an anxious moment + before I rose. Dr. Perrin offered me his hand; and Dr. Gibson said, with a + smile, “Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott. I’m sorry you can’t stay with us any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + I think it was something to my credit that I was able to play out the game + before the boatmen. “I am sorry, too,” I countered. “I am hoping I shall + be able to return.” + </p> + <p> + And then came the real ordeal. “Good-bye, Mrs. Abbott,” said Douglas van + Tuiver, with his stateliest bow; and I managed to answer him! + </p> + <p> + As I took my seat, he beckoned his secretary. There was a whispered + consultation for a minute or two, and then the master returned to the + smaller launch with the doctors. He gave the word, and the two vessels set + out—one to the key, and the other to the railroad. The secretary + went in the one with me! + </p> + <p> + 29. And here ends a certain stage of my story. I have described Sylvia as + I met her and judged her; and if there be any reader who has been irked by + this method, who thinks of me as a crude and pushing person, disposed to + meddle in the affairs of others, here is where that reader will have his + satisfaction and revenge. For if ever a troublesome puppet was jerked + suddenly off the stage—if ever a long-winded orator was effectively + snuffed out—I was that puppet and that orator. I stop and think—shall + I describe how I paced up and down the pier, respectfully but emphatically + watched by the secretary? And all the melodramatic plots I conceived, the + muffled oars and the midnight visits to my Sylvia? My sense of humour + forbids it. For a while now I shall take the hint and stay in the + background of this story. I shall tell the experiences of Sylvia as Sylvia + herself told them to me long afterwards; saying no more about my own fate—save + that I swallowed my humiliation and took the next train to New York, a far + sadder and wiser social-reformer! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III. SYLVIA AS REBEL + </h2> + <p> + 1. Long afterwards Sylvia told me about what happened between her husband + and herself; how desperately she tried to avoid discussing the issue with + him—out of her very sense of fairness to him. But he came to her + room, in spite of her protest, and by his implacable persistence he made + her hear what he had to say. When he had made up his mind to a certain + course of action, he was no more to be resisted than a glacier. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” he said, “I know that you are upset by what has happened. I make + every allowance for your condition; but there are some statements that I + must be permitted to make, and there are simply no two ways about it—you + must get yourself together and hear me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see Mary Abbott!” she insisted, again and again. “It may not be + what you want—but I demand to see her.” + </p> + <p> + So at last he said, “You cannot see Mrs. Abbott. She has gone back to New + York.” And then, at her look of consternation: “That is one of the things + I have to talk to you about.” + </p> + <p> + “Why has she gone back?” cried Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Because I was unwilling to have her here.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you sent her away?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that she understood she was no longer welcome.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia drew a quick breath and turned away to the window. + </p> + <p> + He took advantage of the opportunity to come near, and draw up a chair for + her. “Will you not pleased to be seated,” he said. And at last she turned, + rigidly, and seated herself. + </p> + <p> + “The time has come,” he declared, “when we have to settle this question of + Mrs. Abbott, and her influence upon your life. I have argued with you + about such matters, but now what has happened makes further discussion + impossible. You were brought up among people of refinement, and it has + been incredible to me that you should be willing to admit to your home + such a woman as this—not merely of the commonest birth, but without + a trace of the refinement to which you have been accustomed. And now you + see the consequences of your having brought such a person into our life!” + </p> + <p> + He paused. She made no sound, and her gaze was riveted upon the + window-curtain. + </p> + <p> + “She happens to be here,” he went on, “at a time when a dreadful calamity + befalls us—when we are in need of the utmost sympathy and + consideration. Here is an obscure and terrible affliction, which has + baffled the best physicians in the country; but this ignorant farmer’s + wife considers that she knows all about it. She proceeds to discuss it + with every one—sending your poor aunt almost into hysterics, setting + the nurses to gossiping—God knows what else she has done, or what + she will do, before she gets through. I don’t pretend to know her ultimate + purpose—blackmail, possibly——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how can you!” she broke out, involuntarily. “How can you say such a + thing about a friend of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “I might answer with another question—how can you have such a + friend? A woman who has cast off every restraint, every consideration of + decency—and yet is able to persuade a daughter of the Castlemans to + make her an intimate! Possibly she is an honest fanatic. Dr. Perrin tells + me she was the wife of a brutal farmer, who mistreated her. No doubt that + has embittered her against men, and accounts for her mania. You see that + her mind leaped at once to the most obscene and hideous explanation of + this misfortune of ours—an explanation which pleased her because it + blackened the honour of a man.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped again. Sylvia’s eyes had moved back to the window-curtain. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to insult your ears,” he said, “with discussions of her + ideas. The proper person to settle such matters is a physician, and if you + wish Dr. Perrin to do so, he will tell you what he knows about the case. + But I wish you to realize somehow what this thing has meant to me. I have + managed to control myself——” He saw her shut her lips more + tightly. “The doctors tell me that I must not excite you. But picture the + situation. I come to my home, bowed down with grief for you and for my + child. And this mad woman thrusts herself forward, shoves aside your aunt + and your physicians, and comes in the launch to meet me at the station. + And then she accuses me of being criminally guilty of the blindness of my + child—of having wilfully deceived my wife! Think of it—that is + my welcome to my home!” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she cried, wildly, “Mary Abbott would not have done such a + thing without reason——” + </p> + <p> + “I do not purpose to defend myself,” he said, coldly. “If you are bent + upon filling your mind with such matters, go to Dr. Perrin. He will tell + you that he, as a physician, knows that the charge against me is + preposterous. He will tell you that even granting that the cause of the + blindness is what Mrs. Abbott guesses, there are a thousand ways in which + such an infection can be contracted, which are perfectly innocent, + involving no guilt on the part of anyone. Every doctor knows that + drinking-cups, wash-basins, towels, even food, can be contaminated. He + knows that any person can bring the affliction into a home—servants, + nurses, even the doctors themselves. Has your mad woman friend told you + any of that?” + </p> + <p> + “She has told me nothing. You know that I have had no opportunity to talk + with her. I only know what the nurses believe——” + </p> + <p> + “They believe what Mrs. Abbott told them. That is absolutely all the + reason they have for believing anything!” + </p> + <p> + She did not take that quite as he expected. “So Mary Abbott <i>did</i> + tell them!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He hurried on: “The poisonous idea of a vulgar Socialist woman—this + is the thing upon which you base your suspicions of your husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she whispered, half to herself. “Mary Abbott <i>did</i> say it!” + </p> + <p> + “What if she did?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Douglas, Mary would never have said such a thing to a nurse unless + she had been certain of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Certain?” he broke out. “What certainty could she imagine she had? She is + a bitter, frantic woman—a divorced woman—who jumped to the + conclusion that pleased her, because it involved the humiliation of a rich + man.” + </p> + <p> + He went on, his voice trembling with suppressed passion: “When you know + the real truth, the thing becomes a nightmare. You, a delicate woman, + lying here helpless—the victim of a cruel misfortune, and with the + life of an afflicted infant depending upon your peace of mind. Your + physicians planning day and night to keep you quiet, to keep the dreadful, + unbearable truth from you——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what truth? That’s the terrifying thing—to know that people are + keeping things from me! What <i>was</i> it they were keeping?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, the fact that the baby was blind; and then the cause of it——” + </p> + <p> + “Then they <i>do</i> know the cause?” + </p> + <p> + “They don’t know positively—no one can know positively. But poor Dr. + Perrin had a dreadful idea, that he had to hide from you because otherwise + he could not bear to continue in your house——” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Douglas! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that a few days before your confinement, he was called away to the + case of a negro-woman—you knew that, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “He had the torturing suspicion that possibly he was not careful enough in + sterilizing his instruments, and that he, your friend and protector, may + be the man who is to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh!” Her voice was a whisper of horror. + </p> + <p> + “That is one of the secrets your doctors have been trying to hide.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence, while her eyes searched his face. Suddenly she + stretched out her hands to him, crying desperately: “Oh, is this true?” + </p> + <p> + He did not take the outstretched hands. “Since I am upon the + witness-stand, I have to be careful of my replies. It is what Dr. Perrin + tells me. Whether the explanation he gives is the true one—whether + he himself, or the nurse he recommended, may have brought the infection——” + </p> + <p> + “It couldn’t have been the nurse,” she said quickly. “She was so careful——” + </p> + <p> + He did not allow her to finish. “You seem determined,” he said, coldly, + “to spare everyone but your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she protested, “I have tried hard to be fair—to be fair to + both you and my friend. Of course, if Mary Abbott was mistaken, I have + done you a great injustice—” + </p> + <p> + He saw that she was softening, and that it was safe for him to be a man. + “It has been with some difficulty that I have controlled myself throughout + this experience,” he said, rising to his feet. “If you do not mind, I + think I will not carry the discussion any further, as I don’t feel that I + can trust myself to listen to a defence of that woman from your lips. I + will only tell you my decision in the matter. I have never before used my + authority as a husband; I hoped I should never have to use it. But the + time has come when you will have to choose between Mary Abbott and your + husband. I will positively not tolerate your corresponding with her, or + having anything further to do with her. I take my stand upon that, and + nothing will move me. I will not even permit of any discussion of the + subject. And now I hope you will excuse me. Dr. Perrin wishes me to tell + you that either he or Dr. Gibson are ready at any time to advise you about + these matters, which have been forced upon your mind against their + judgment and protests.” + </p> + <p> + 2. You can see that it was no easy matter for Sylvia to get at the truth. + The nurses, already terrified because of their indiscretion, had been + first professionally thrashed, and then carefully drilled as to the + answers they were to make. But as a matter of fact they did not have to + make any answers at all, because Sylvia was unwilling to reveal to anyone + her distrust of her husband. + </p> + <p> + One of two things was certain: either she had been horribly wronged by her + husband, or now she was horribly wronging him. Which was the truth? Was it + conceivable that I, Mary Abbott, would leap to a false conclusion about + such a matter? She knew that I felt intensely, almost fanatically, on the + subject, and also that I had been under great emotional stress. Was it + possible that I would have voiced mere suspicions to the nurses? Sylvia + could not be sure, for my standards were as strange to her as my Western + accent. She knew that I talked freely to everyone about such matters—and + would be as apt to select the nurses as the ladies of the house. On the + other hand, how was it conceivable that I could know positively? To + recognize a disease might be easy; but to specify from what source it had + come—that was surely not in my power! + </p> + <p> + They did not leave her alone for long. Mrs. Tuis came in, with her + feminine terrors. “Sylvia, you must know that you are treating your + husband dreadfully! He has gone away down the beach by himself, and has + not even seen his baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Varina—” she began, “won’t you please go away?” + </p> + <p> + But the other rushed on: “Your husband comes here, broken with grief + because of this affliction; and you overwhelm him with the most cruel and + wicked reproaches with charges you have no way in the world of proving——” + And the old lady caught her niece by the hand. “My child! Come, do your + duty!” + </p> + <p> + “My duty?” + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself fit, and take your husband to see his baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can’t!” cried Sylvia. “I don’t want to be there when he sees her! + If I loved him—” Then, seeing her aunt’s face of horror, she was + seized with a sudden impulse of pity, and caught the poor old lady in her + arms. “Aunt Varina,” she said, “I am making you suffer, I know—I am + making everyone suffer! But if you only knew how I am suffering myself! + How can I know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tuis was weeping; but quickly she got herself together, and answered + in a firm voice, “Your old auntie can tell you what to do. You must come + to your senses, my child—you must let your reason prevail. Get your + face washed, make yourself presentable, and come and take your husband to + see your baby. Women have to suffer, dear; we must not shirk our share of + life’s burdens.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger of my shirking,” said Sylvia, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Come, dear, come,” pleaded Mrs. Tuis. She was trying to lead the girl to + the mirror. If only she could be made to see how distraught and disorderly + she looked! “Let me help you to dress, dear—you know how much better + it always makes you feel.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia laughed, a trifle wildly—but Mrs. Tuis had dealt with + hysteria before. “What would you like to wear?” she demanded. And then, + without waiting for an answer, “Let me choose something. One of your + pretty frocks.” + </p> + <p> + “A pretty frock, and a seething volcano underneath! That is your idea of a + woman’s life!” + </p> + <p> + The other responded very gravely, “A pretty frock, my dear, and a smile—instead + of a vulgar scene, and ruin and desolation afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia made no reply. Yes, that was the life of woman—her old aunt + knew! And her old aunt knew also the psychology of her sex. She did not go + on talking about pretty frocks in the abstract; she turned at once to the + clothes-closet, and began laying pretty frocks upon the bed! + </p> + <p> + 3. Sylvia emerged upon the “gallery,” clad in dainty pink muslin, her + beautiful shiny hair arranged under a semi-invalid’s cap of pink maline. + Her face was pale, and the big red-brown eyes were hollow; but she was + quiet, and apparently mistress of herself again. She even humoured Aunt + Varina by leaning slightly upon her feeble arm, while the maid hastened to + place her chair in a shaded spot. + </p> + <p> + Her husband came, and the doctors; the tea-things were brought, and Aunt + Varina poured tea, a-flutter with excitement. They talked about the + comparative temperatures of New York and the Florida Keys, and about + hedges of jasmine to shade the gallery from the evening sun. And after a + while, Aunt Varina arose, explaining that she would prepare Elaine for her + father’s visit. In the doorway she stood for a moment, smiling upon the + pretty picture; it was all settled now—the outward forms had been + observed, and the matter would end, as such matters should end between + husband and wife—a few tears, a few reproaches, and then a few + kisses. + </p> + <p> + The baby was made ready, with a new dress, and a fresh silk bandage to + cover the pitiful, lifeless eyes. Aunt Varina had found pleasure in making + these bandages; she made them soft and pretty—less hygienic, + perhaps, but avoiding the suggestion of the hospital. + </p> + <p> + When Sylvia and her husband came into the room, the faces of both of them + were white. Sylvia stopped near the door-way; and poor Aunt Varina + fluttered about, in agony of soul. When van Tuiver went to the cradle, she + hurried to his side, and sought to awaken the little one with gentle + nudges. Quite unexpectedly to her, van Tuiver sought to pick up the + infant; she helped him, and he stood, holding it awkwardly, as if afraid + it might go to pieces in his arms. + </p> + <p> + So any man might appear, with his first infant; but to Sylvia it seemed + the most tragic sight she had ever seen in her life. She gave a low cry, + “Douglas!” and he turned, and she saw his face was working with the + feeling he was ashamed for anyone to see. “Oh, Douglas,” she whispered, + “I’m so <i>sorry</i> for you!” At which Aunt Varina decided that it was + time for her to make her escape. + </p> + <p> + 4. But the trouble between these two were not such as could be settled by + any burst of emotion. The next day they were again in a dispute, for he + had come to ask her word of honour that she would never see me again, and + would give him my letters to be returned unopened. This last was what she + had let her father do in the case of Frank Shirley; and she had become + certain in her own mind that she had done wrong. + </p> + <p> + But he was insistent in his demand; declaring that it should be obvious to + her there could be no peace of mind for him so long as my influence + continued in her life. + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” protested Sylvia, “to hear Mary Abbott’s explanation——” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no explanation that is not an insult to your husband, and to + those who are caring for you. I am speaking in this matter not merely for + myself, but for your physicians, who know this woman, heard her menaces + and her vulgarity. It is their judgment that you should be protected at + all hazards from further contact with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she argued, “you must realize that I am in distress of mind + about this matter——” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly realize that.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you are thinking of my welfare, you should choose a course that + would set my mind at rest. But when you come to me and ask me that I + should not even read a letter from my friend—don’t you realize what + you suggest to me, that there is something you are afraid for me to know?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not attempt to deny my fear of this woman. I have seen how she has + been able to poison your mind with suspicions——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Douglas—but now that has been done. What else is there to fear + from her?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea what. She is a bitter, jealous woman, with a mind full of + hatred; and you are an innocent girl, who cannot judge about these + matters. What idea have you of the world in which you live, of the + slanders to which a man in your husband’s position is exposed?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite such a child as that——” + </p> + <p> + “You have simply no idea, I tell you. I remember your consternation when + we first met, and I told you about the woman who had written me a begging + letter, and got an interview with me, and then started screaming, and + refused to leave the house till I had paid her a lot of money. You had + never heard such stories, had you? Yet it is the kind of thing that is + happening to rich men continually; it was one of the first rules I was + taught, never to let myself be alone with a strange woman, no matter of + what age, or under what circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I assure you, I would not listen to such people——” + </p> + <p> + “You are asking right now to listen! And you would be influenced by her—you + could not help it, any more than you can help being distressed about what + she has already said. She intimated to Dr. Perrin that she believed that I + had been a man of depraved life, and that my wife and child were now + paying the penalty. How can I tell what vile stories concerning me she may + not have heard? How could I have any peace of mind while I knew that she + was free to pour them into your ear?” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia sat dumb with questions she would not utter, hovering on the tip of + her tongue. + </p> + <p> + He took her silence for acquiesence, and went on, quickly, “Let me give + you an illustration. A friend of mine whom you know well—I might as + well tell you his name, it was Freddie Atkins—was at supper with + some theatrical women; and one of them, not having any idea that Freddie + knew me, proceeded to talk about me, and how she had met me, and where we + had been together—about my yacht, and my castle in Scotland, and I + don’t know what all else. It seems that this woman had been my mistress + for several years; she told quite glibly about me and my habits. Freddie + got the woman’s picture, on some pretext or other, and brought it to me; I + had never laid eyes on her in my life. He could hardly believe it, and to + prove it to him I offered to meet the woman, under another name. We sat in + a restaurant, and she told the tale to Freddie and myself together—until + finally he burst out laughing, and told her who I was.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, to let this sink in. “Now, suppose your friend, Mary Abbott, + had met that woman! I don’t imagine she is particularly careful whom she + associates with; and suppose she had come and told you that she knew such + a woman—what would you have said? Can you deny that the tale would + have made an impression on you? Yet, I’ve not the least doubt there are + scores of women who made such tales about me a part of their stock in + trade; there are thousands of women whose fortunes would be made for life + if they could cause such a tale to be believed. And imagine how + well-informed they would be, if anyone were to ask them concerning my + habits, and the reason why our baby is blind! I tell you, when the rumour + concerning our child has begun to spread, there will be ten thousand + people in New York city who will know of first-hand, personal knowledge + exactly how it happened, and how you took it, and everything that I said + to you about it. There will be sneers in the society-papers, from New York + to San Francisco; and smooth-tongued gentlemen calling, to give us hints + that we can stop these sneers by purchasing a de-luxe edition of a history + of our ancestors for six thousand dollars. There will be well-meaning and + beautiful-souled people who will try to get you to confide in them, and + then use their knowledge of your domestic unhappiness to blackmail you; + there will be threats of law-suits from people who will claim that they + have contracted a disease from you or your child—your laundress, + perhaps, or your maid, or one of these nurses——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stop! stop!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite aware,” he said, quietly, “that these things are not + calculated to preserve the peace of mind of a young mother. You are + horrified when I tell you of them—yet you clamour for the right to + have Mrs. Abbott tell you of them! I warn you, Sylvia—you have + married a rich man, who is exposed to the attacks of cunning and + unscrupulous enemies. You, as his wife, are exactly as much exposed—possibly + even more so. Therefore when I see you entering into what I know to be a + dangerous intimacy, I must have the right to say to you, This shall stop, + and I tell you, there can never be any safety or peace of mind for either + of us, so long as you attempt to deny me that right.” + </p> + <p> + 5. Dr. Gibson took his departure three or four days later; and before he + went, he came to give her his final blessing; talking to her, as he + phrased it, “like a Dutch uncle.” “You must understand,” he said, “I am + almost old enough to be your grandfather. I have four sons, anyone of whom + might have married you, if they had had the good fortune to be in + Castleman County at the critical time. So you must let me be frank with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia indicated that she was willing. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t generally talk to women about these matters; because they’ve no + standard by which to judge, and they almost always fly off and have + hysterics. Their case seems to them exceptional and horrible, their + husbands the blackest criminals in the whole tribe.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment. “Now, Mrs. van Tuiver, the disease which has made + your baby blind is probably what we call gonorrhea. When it gets into the + eyes, it has very terrible results. But it doesn’t often get into the + eyes, and for the most part it’s a trifling affair, that we don’t worry + about. I know there are a lot of new-fangled notions, but I’m an old man, + with experience of my own, and I have to have things proven to me. I know + that with as much of this disease as we doctors see, if it was a deadly + disease, there’d be nobody left alive in the world. As I say, I don’t like + to discuss it with women; but it was not I who forced the matter upon your + attention——” + </p> + <p> + “Pray go on, Dr. Gibson,” she said. “I really wish to know all that you + will tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “The question has come up, how was this disease brought to your child? Dr. + Perrin suggested that possibly he—you understand his fear; and + possibly he is correct. But it seems to me an illustration of the unwisdom + of a physician’s departing from his proper duty, which is to cure people. + If you wish to find out who brought a disease, what you need is a + detective. I know, of course, that there are people who can combine the + duties of physician and detective—and that without any previous + preparation or study of either profession.” + </p> + <p> + He waited for this irony to sink in; and Sylvia also waited, patiently. + </p> + <p> + At last he resumed, “The idea has been planted in your mind that your + husband brought the trouble; and that idea is sure to stay there and + fester. So it becomes necessary for someone to talk to you straight. Let + me tell you that eight men out of ten have had this disease at some time + in their lives; also that very few of them were cured of it when they + thought they were. You have a cold: and then next month, you say the cold + is gone. So it is, for practical purposes. But if I take a microscope, I + find the germs of the cold still in your membranes, and I know that you + can give a cold, and a bad cold, to some one else who is sensitive. It is + true that you may go through all the rest of your life without ever being + entirely rid of that cold. You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sylvia, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I say eight out of ten. Estimates would differ. Some doctors would say + seven out of ten—and some actual investigations have shown nine out + of ten. And understand me, I don’t mean bar-room loafers and roustabouts. + I mean your brothers, if you have any, your cousins, your best friends, + the men who came to make love to you, and whom you thought of marrying. If + you had found it out about any one of them, of course you’d have cut the + acquaintance; yet you’d have been doing an injustice—for if you had + done that to all who’d ever had the disease, you might as well have + retired to a nunnery at once.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman paused again; then frowning at her under his bushy + eye-brows, he exclaimed, “I tell you, Mrs. van Tuiver, you’re doing your + husband a wrong. Your husband loves you, and he’s a good man—I’ve + had some talks with him, and I know he’s not got nearly so much on his + conscience as the average husband. I’m a Southern man, and I know these + gay young bloods you’ve danced and flirted with all your young life. Do + you think if you went probing into their secret affairs, you’d have had + much pleasure in their company afterwards? I tell you again, you’re doing + your husband a wrong! You’re doing something that very few men would + stand, as patiently as he has stood it so far.” + </p> + <p> + All this time Sylvia had given no sign. So the old gentleman began to feel + a trifle uneasy. “Mind you,” he said, “I’m not saying that men ought to be + like that. They deserve a good hiding, most of them—they’re very few + of them fit to associate with a good woman. I’ve always said that no man + is really good enough for a good woman. But my point is that when you + select one to punish, you select not the guiltiest one, but simply the one + who’s had the misfortune to fall under suspicion. And he knows that’s not + fair; he’d have to be more than human if deep in his soul he did not + bitterly resent it. You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she replied, in the same repressed voice. + </p> + <p> + And the doctor rose and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m going home,” + he said—“very probably we’ll never meet each other again. I see you + making a great mistake, laying up unhappiness for yourself in the future; + and I wish to prevent it if I can. I wish to persuade you to face the + facts of the world in which we live. So I am going to tell you something + that I never expected I should tell to a lady.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking her straight in the eye. “You see me—I’m an old man, + and I seem fairly respectable to you. You’ve laughed at me some, but even + so, you’ve found it possible to get along with me without too great + repugnance. Well, I’ve had this disease; I’ve had it, and nevertheless + I’ve raised six fine, sturdy children. More than that—I’m not free + to name anybody else, but I happen to know positively that among the men + your husband employs on this island there are two who have the disease + right now. And the next charming and well-bred gentleman you are + introduced to, just reflect that there are at least eight chances in ten + that he has had the disease, and perhaps three or four in ten that he has + it at the minute he’s shaking hands with you. And now you think that over, + and stop tormenting your poor husband!” + </p> + <p> + 6. One of the first things I did when I reached New York was to send a + little love-letter to Sylvia. I said nothing that would distress her; I + merely assured her that she was in my thoughts, and that I should look to + see her in New York, when we could have a good talk. I put this in a plain + envelope, with a typewritten address, and registered it in the name of my + stenographer. The receipt came back, signed by an unknown hand, probably + the secretary’s. I found out later that the letter never got to Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + No doubt it was the occasion of renewed efforts upon her husband’s part to + obtain from her the promise he desired. He would not be put off with + excuses; and at last he got her answer, in the shape of a letter which she + told him she intended to mail to me. In this letter she announced her + decision that she owed it to her baby to avoid all excitement and nervous + strain during the time that she was nursing it. Her husband had sent for + the yacht, and they were going to Scotland, and in the winter to the + Mediterranean and the Nile. Meantime she would not correspond with me; but + she wished me to know that there was to be no break in our friendship, and + that she would see me upon her return to New York. + </p> + <p> + “There is much that has happened that I do not understand,” she added. + “For the present, however, I shall try to dismiss it from my mind. I am + sure you will agree that it is right for me to give a year to being a + mother; as I wish you to feel perfectly at peace in the meantime, I + mention that it is my intention to be a mother only, and not a wife. I am + showing this letter to my husband before I mail it, so that he may know + exactly what I am doing, and what I have decided to do in the future.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said, after reading this, “you may send the letter, if you + insist—but you must realize that you are only putting off the + issue.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply; and at last he asked, “You mean you intend to defy me + in this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” she replied, quietly, “that for the sake of my baby I intend to + put off all discussion for a year.” + </p> + <p> + 7. I figured that I should hear from Claire Lepage about two days after I + reached New York; and sure enough, she called me on the ‘phone. “I want to + see you at once,” she declared; and her voice showed the excitement under + which she was labouring. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, “come down.” + </p> + <p> + She entered my little living-room. It was the first time she had ever + visited me, but she did not stop for a glance about her; she did not even + stop to sit down. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Sylvia Castleman?” + she cried. + </p> + <p> + “My dear woman,” I replied, “I was not under the least obligation to tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have betrayed me!” she exclaimed, wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Claire,” I said, after I had looked her in the eye a bit to calm + her. “You know quite well that I was under no bond of secrecy. And, + besides, I haven’t done you any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do it?” I regret to add that she swore. + </p> + <p> + “I never once mentioned your name, Claire.” + </p> + <p> + “How much good do you imagine that does me? They have managed to find out + everything. They caught me in a trap.” + </p> + <p> + I reminded myself that it would not do to show any pity for her. “Sit + down, Claire,” I said. “Tell me about it.” + </p> + <p> + She cried, in a last burst of anger, “I don’t want to talk to you!” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I answered. “But then, why did you come?” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply to that. She sat down. “They were too much for me!” she + lamented. “If I’d had the least hint, I might have held my own. As it was—I + let them make a fool of me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are talking hieroglyphics to me. Who are ‘they’?” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas, and that old fox, Rossiter Torrance.” + </p> + <p> + “Rossiter Torrance?” I repeated the name, and then suddenly remembered. + The thin-lipped old family lawyer! + </p> + <p> + “He sent up his card, and said he’d been sent to see me by Mary Abbot. Of + course, I had no suspicion—I fell right into the trap. We talked + about you for a while—he even got me to tell him where you lived; + and then at last he told me that he hadn’t come from you at all, but had + merely wanted to find out if I knew you, and how intimate we were. He had + been sent by Douglas; and he wanted to know right away how much I had told + you about Douglas, and why I had done it. Of course, I denied that I had + told anything. Heavens, what a time he gave me!” + </p> + <p> + Claire paused. “Mary, how could you have played such a trick upon me?” + </p> + <p> + “I had no thought of doing you any harm,” I replied. “I was simply trying + to help Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “To help her at any expense!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what will come of it? Are you afraid they’ll cut off your + allowance?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the threat.” + </p> + <p> + “But will they carry it out?” + </p> + <p> + She sat, gazing at me resentfully. “I don’t know whether I ought to trust + you any more,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do what you please about that,” I replied. “I don’t want to urge you.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a bit longer, and then decided to throw herself upon my + mercy. They would not dare to carry out their threat, so long as Sylvia + had not found out the whole truth. So now she had come to beg me to tell + no more than I had already told. She was utterly abject about it. I had + pretended to be her friend, I had won her confidence and listened to her + confessions; how did I wish to ruin her utterly, to have her cast out on + the street? + </p> + <p> + Poor Claire! I said in the early part of my story that she understood the + language of idealism; but I wonder what I have told about her that + justifies this. The truth is, she was going down so fast that already she + seemed a different person; and she had been frightened by the thin-lipped + old family lawyer, so that she was incapable of even a decent pretence. + </p> + <p> + “Claire,” I said, “there is no need for you to go on like this. I have not + the slightest intention of telling Sylvia about you. I cannot imagine the + circumstances that would make me want to tell her. Even if I should do it, + I would tell her in confidence, so that her husband would never have any + idea——” + </p> + <p> + She went almost wild at this. To imagine that a woman would keep such a + confidence! As if she would not throw it at her husband’s head the first + time they quarreled! Besides, if Sylvia knew this truth, she might leave + him; and if she left him, Claire’s hold on his money would be gone. + </p> + <p> + Over this money we had a long and lachrymose interview. And at the end of + it, there she sat gazing into space, baffled and bewildered. What kind of + a woman was I? How had I got to be the friend of Sylvia van Tuiver? What + had she seen in me, and what did I expect to get out of her? I answered + briefly; and suddenly Claire was overwhelmed by a rush of curiosity—plain + human curiosity. What was Sylvia like? Was she as clever as they said? + What was the baby like, and how was Sylvia taking the misfortune? Could it + really be true that I had been visiting the van Tuivers in Florida, as old + Rossiter Torrance had implied? + </p> + <p> + Needless to say, I did not answer these questions freely. And I really + think my visitor was more pained by my uncommunicativeness than she was by + my betrayal of her. It was interesting also to notice a subtle difference + in her treatment of me. Gone was the slight touch of condescension, gone + was most of the familiarity! I had become a personage, a treasurer of high + state secrets, an intimate of the great ones! There must be something more + to me than Claire had realized before! + </p> + <p> + Poor Claire! She passes here from this story. For years thereafter I used + to catch a glimpse of her now and then, in the haunts of the birds of + gorgeous plumage; but I never got a chance to speak to her, nor did she + ever call on me again. So I do not know if Douglas van Tuiver still + continues her eight thousand a year. All I can say is that when I saw her, + her plumage was as gorgeous as ever, and its style duly certified to the + world that it had not been held over from a previous season of prosperity. + Twice I thought she had been drinking too much; but then—so had many + of the other ladies with the little glasses of bright-coloured liquids + before them. + </p> + <p> + 8. For the rest of that year I knew nothing about Sylvia except what I + read in the “society” column of my newspaper—that she was spending + the late summer in her husband’s castle in Scotland. I myself was + suffering from the strain of what I had been through, and had to take a + vacation. I went West; and when I came back in the fall, to plunge again + into my work, I read that the van Tuivers, in their yacht, the “Triton,” + were in the Mediterranean, and were planning to spend the winter in Japan. + </p> + <p> + And then one day in January, like a bolt from the blue, came a cablegram + from Sylvia, dated Cairo: “Sailing for New York, Steamship ‘Atlantic,’ are + you there, answer.” + </p> + <p> + Of course I answered. And I consulted the sailing-lists, and waited, wild + with impatience. She sent me a wireless, two days out, and so I was at the + pier when the great vessel docked. Yes, there she was, waving her + handkerchief to me; and there by her side stood her husband. + </p> + <p> + It was a long, cold ordeal, while the ship was warped in. We could only + gaze at each other across the distance, and stamp our feet and beat our + hands. There were other friends waiting for the van Tuivers, I saw, and so + I held myself in the background, full of a thousand wild speculations. How + incredible that Sylvia, arriving with her husband, should have summoned me + to meet her! + </p> + <p> + At last the gangway was let down, and the stream of passengers began to + flow. In time came the van Tuivers, and their friends gathered to welcome + them. I waited; and at last Sylvia came to me—outwardly calm—but + with her emotions in the pressure of her two hands. “Oh, Mary, Mary!” she + murmured. “I’m so glad to see you! I’m so glad to see you!” + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + Her voice went to a whisper. “I am leaving my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving your husband!” I stood, dumbfounded. + </p> + <p> + “Leaving him for ever, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but——” I could not finish the sentence. My eyes + moved to where he stood, calmly chatting with his friends. + </p> + <p> + “He insisted on coming back with me, to preserve appearances. He is + terrified of the gossip. He is going all the way home, and then leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia! What does it mean?” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell you here. I want to come and see you. Are you living at the + same place?” + </p> + <p> + I answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a long story,” she added. “I must apologise for asking you to come + here, where we can’t talk. But I did it for an important reason. I can’t + make my husband really believe that I mean what I say; and you are my + Declaration of Independence!” And she laughed, but a trifle wildly, and + looking at her suddenly, I realized that she was keyed almost to the + breaking point. + </p> + <p> + “You poor dear!” I murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to show him that I meant what I said. I wanted him to see us + meet. You see, he’s going home, thinking that with the help of my people + he can make me change my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you go home? Why not stay here with me? There’s an apartment + vacant next to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “And with a baby?” + </p> + <p> + “There are lots of babies in our tenement,” I said. But to tell the truth, + I had almost forgotten the baby in the excitement of the moment. “How is + she,” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see,” said Sylvia; and when I glanced enquiringly at the tall + gentleman who was chatting with his friends, she added, “She’s <i>my</i> + baby, and I have a right to show her.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse, a rosy-cheeked English girl in a blue dress and a bonnet with + long streamers, stood apart, holding an armful of white silk and lace. + Sylvia turned back the coverings; and again I beheld the vision which had + so thrilled me—the comical little miniature of herself—her + nose, her lips, her golden hair. But oh, the pitiful little eyes, that did + not move! I looked at my friend, uncertain what I should say; I was + startled to see her whole being aglow with mother-pride. “Isn’t she a + dear?” she whispered. “And, Mary, she’s learning so fast, and growing—you + couldn’t believe it!” Oh, the marvel of mother-love, I thought—that + is blinder than any child it ever bore! + </p> + <p> + We turned away; and Sylvia said, “I’ll come to you as soon as I’ve got the + baby settled. Our train starts for the South to-night, so I shan’t waste + any time.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, dear,” I whispered; and she gave my hand a squeeze, and + turned away. I stood for a few moments watching, and saw her approach her + husband, and exchange a few smiling words with him in the presence of + their friends. I, knowing the agony that was in the hearts of that + desperate young couple, marvelled anew at the discipline of caste. + </p> + <p> + 9. She sat in my big arm-chair; and how proud I was of her, and how + thrilled by her courage. Above all, however, I was devoured by curiosity. + “Tell me!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “There’s so much,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me why you are leaving him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, because I don’t love him. That’s the one reason. I have thought it + out—I have thought of little else for the last year. I have come to + see that it is wrong for a woman to live with a man she does not love. It + is the supreme crime a woman can commit.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” I said. “If you have got that far!” + </p> + <p> + “I have got that far. Other things have contributed, but they are not the + real things—they might have been forgiven. The fact that he had this + disease, and made my child blind——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You found out that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “It came to me little by little. In the end, he grew tired of pretending, + I think.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “The trouble was over the + question of my obligations as a wife. You see, I had told him at the + outset that I was going to live for my baby, and for her alone. That was + the ground upon which he had persuaded me not to see you or read any of + your letters. I was to ask no questions, and be nice and bovine—and + I agreed. But then, a few months ago, my husband came to me with the story + of his needs. He said that the doctors had given their sanction to our + reunion. Of course, I was stunned. I knew that he had understood me before + we left Florida.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. “Yes, dear,” I said, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said now the doctors were agreed there was no danger to either + of us. We could take precautions and not have children. I could only plead + that the whole subject was distressing to me. He had asked me to put off + my problems till my baby was weaned; now I asked him to put off his. But + that would not do, it seemed. He took to arguing with me. It was an + unnatural way to live, and he could not endure it. I was a woman, and I + couldn’t understand this. It seemed utterly impossible to make him realize + what I felt. I suppose he has always had what he wanted, and he simply + does not know what it is to be denied. It wasn’t only a physical thing, I + think; it was an affront to his pride, a denial of his authority.” She + stopped, and I saw her shudder. + </p> + <p> + “I have been through it all,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted to know how long I expected to withhold myself. I said, ‘Until + I have got this disease out of my mind, as well as out of my body; until I + know that there is no possibility of either of us having it, to give to + the other.’ But then, after I had taken a little more time to think it + over, I said, ‘Douglas, I must be honest with you. I shall never be able + to live with you again. It is no longer a question of your wishes or mine—it + is a question of right or wrong. I do not love you. I know now that it can + never under any circumstances be right for a woman to give herself in the + intimacy of the sex-relation without love. When she does it, she is + violating the deepest instinct of her nature, the very voice of God in her + soul.’ + </p> + <p> + “His reply was, ‘Why didn’t you know that before you married?’ + </p> + <p> + “I answered, ‘I did not know what marriage meant; and I let myself be + persuaded by others.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘By your own mother!’ he declared. + </p> + <p> + “I said, ‘A mother who permits her daughter to commit such an offence is + either a slave-dealer, or else a slave.’ Of course, he thought I was out + of my mind at that. He argued about the duties of marriage, the preserving + of the home, wives submitting themselves to their husbands, and so on. He + would not give me any peace——” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly she started up. I saw in her eyes the light of old battles. + “Oh, it was a horror!” she cried, beginning to pace the floor. “It seemed + to me that I was living the agony of all the loveless marriages of the + world. I felt myself pursued, not merely by the importunate desires of one + man—I suffered with all the millions of women who give themselves + night after night without love! He came to seem like some monster to me; I + could not meet him unexpectedly without starting. I forbade him to mention + the subject to me again, and for a long time he obeyed. But several weeks + ago he brought it up afresh, and I lost my self-control completely. + ‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘I can stand it no longer! It is not only the tragedy + of my blind child—it’s that you have driven me to hate you. You have + crushed all the life and joy and youth out of me! You’ve been to me like a + terrible black cloud, constantly pressing down on me, smothering me. You + stalk around me like a grim, sepulchral figure, closing me up in the + circle of your narrow ideas. But now I can endure it no longer. I was a + proud, high-spirited girl, you’ve made of me a colourless social + automaton, a slave of your stupid worldly traditions. I’m turning into a + feeble, complaining, discontented wife! And I refuse to be it. I’m going + home—where at least there’s some human spontaneity left in people; + I’m going back to my father!’—And I went and looked up the next + steamer!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. She stood before me, with the fire of her wild Southern blood + shining in her cheeks and in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + I sat waiting, and finally she went on, “I won’t repeat all his protests. + When he found that I was really going, he offered to take me in the yacht, + but I wouldn’t go in the yacht. I had got to be really afraid of him—sometimes, + you know, his obstinacy seems to be abnormal, almost insane. So then he + decided he would have to go in the steamer with me to preserve + appearances. I had a letter saying that papa was not well, and he said + that would serve for an excuse. He is going to Castleman County, and after + he has stayed a week or so, he is going off on a hunting-trip, and not + return.” + </p> + <p> + “And will he do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he expects to do it at present. I feel sure he has the idea + of starting mamma to quoting the Bible to me, and dragging me down with + her tears. But I have done all I can to make clear to him that it will + make no difference. I told him I would not say a word about my intentions + at home until he had gone away, and that I expected the same silence from + him. But, of course—” She stopped abruptly, and after a moment she + asked: “What do you think of it, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + I leaned forward and took her two hands in mine. “Only,” I said, “that I’m + glad you fought it out alone! I knew it had to come—and I didn’t + want to have to help you to decide!” + </p> + <p> + 10. She sat for a while absorbed in her own thoughts. Knowing her as I + did, I understood what intense emotions were seething within her, what a + terrific struggle her decision must have represented. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Friend,” she said, suddenly, “don’t think I haven’t seen his side of + the case. I try to tell myself that I dealt with him frankly from the + beginning. But then I ask was there ever a man I dealt with frankly? There + was coquetry in the very clothes I wore! And now that we are so entangled, + now that he loves me, what is my duty? I find I can’t respect his love for + me. A part of it is because my beauty fascinates him, but more of it seems + to me just wounded vanity. I was the only woman who ever flouted him, and + he has a kind of snobbery that made him think I must be something + remarkable because of it. I talked that all out with him—yes, I’ve + dragged him through all that humiliation. I wanted to make him see that he + didn’t really love me, that he only wanted to conquer me, to force me to + admire him and submit to him. I want to be myself, and he wants to be + himself—that has always been the issue between us.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the issue in many unhappy marriages,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last year,” she resumed—“about + things generally, I mean. We American women think we are so free. That is + because our husbands indulge us, give us money, and let us run about. But + when it comes to real freedom—freedom of intellect and of character, + English women are simply another kind of being from us. I met a cabinet + minister’s wife—he’s a Conservative in everything, and she’s an + ardent suffragist; she not merely gives money, she makes speeches and has + a public name. Yet they are friends, and have a happy home-life. Do you + suppose my husband would consider such an arrangement?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he admired English ways,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “There was the Honorable Betty Annersley—the sister of a chum of + his. She was friendly with the militants, and I wanted to talk to her to + understand what such women thought. Yet my husband tried to stop me from + going to see her. And it’s the same way with everything I try to do, that + threatens to take me out of his power. He wanted me to accept the + authority of the doctors as to any possible danger from venereal disease. + When I got the books, and showed him what the doctors admitted about the + question—the narrow margin of safety they allowed, the terrible + chances they took—he was angry again.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, seeing a question in my eyes. “I’ve been reading up on the + subject,” she explained. “I know it all now—the things I should have + known before I married.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage that?” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to get two of the doctors to give me something to read, but they + wouldn’t hear of it. I’d set myself crazy imagining things, it was no sort + of stuff for a woman’s mind. So in the end I took the bit in my teeth. I + found a medical book store, and I went in and said: ‘I am an American + physician, and I want to see the latest works on venereal disease.’ So the + clerk took me to the shelves, and I picked out a couple of volumes.” + </p> + <p> + “You poor child!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “When Douglas found that I was reading these books he threatened to burn + them. I told him ‘There are more copies in the store, and I am determined + to be educated on this subject.’” + </p> + <p> + She paused. “How much like my own experience!” I thought. + </p> + <p> + “There were chapters on the subject of wives, how much they were not told, + and why this was. So very quickly I began to see around my own experience. + Douglas must have figured out that this would be so, for the end of the + matter was an admission.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean he confessed to you!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled bitterly. “No,” she said. “He brought Dr. Perrin to London to + do it for him. Dr. Perrin said he had concluded I had best know that my + husband had had some symptoms of the disease. He, the doctor, wished to + tell me who was to blame for the attempt to deceive me. Douglas had been + willing to admit the truth, but all the doctors had forbidden it. I must + realise the fearful problem they had, and not blame them, and, above all I + must not blame my husband, who had been in their hands in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “How stupid men are! As if that would excuse him!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I showed the little man how poor an impression he had made—both + for himself and for his patron. But I had suffered all there was to + suffer, and I was tired of pretending. I told him it would have been far + better for them if they had told me the truth at the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” I said. “That is what I tried to make them see; but all I got + for it was a sentence of deportation!” + </p> + <p> + 11. When Sylvia’s train arrived at the station of her home town, the whole + family was waiting upon the platform for her, and a good part of the town + besides. The news that she had arrived in New York, and was coming home on + account of her father’s illness, had, of course, been reproduced in all + the local papers, with the result that the worthy major had been deluged + with telegrams and letters concerning his health. Notwithstanding, he had + insisted upon coming to the train to meet his daughter. He was not going + to be shut up in a sickroom to please all the gossips of two hemispheres. + In his best black broad-cloth, his broad, black hat newly brushed, and his + old-fashioned, square-toed shoes newly shined, he paced up and down the + station platform for half an hour, and it was to his arms that Sylvia flew + when she alighted from the train. + </p> + <p> + There was “Miss Margaret,” who had squeezed her large person and + fluttering draperies out of the family automobile, and was waiting to shed + tears over her favourite daughter; there was Celeste, radiant with a + wonderful piece of news which she alone was to impart to her sister; there + were Peggy and Maria, shot up suddenly into two amazingly-gawky girls; + there was Master Castleman Lysle, the only son of the house, with his + black-eyed and bad-tempered French governess. And finally there was Aunt + Varina, palpitating with various agitations, not daring to whisper to + anyone else the fears which this sudden home-coming inspired in her. + Bishop Chilton and his wife were away, but a delegation of cousins had + come; also Uncle Mandeville Castleman had sent a huge bunch of roses, + which were in the family automobile, and Uncle Barry Chilton had sent a + pair of wild turkeys, which were soon to be in the family. + </p> + <p> + Behind Sylvia stalked her cold and haughty husband, and behind him tripped + the wonderful nursemaid, with her wonderful blue streamers, and her + wonderful bundle of ruffles and lace. All the huge family had to fall upon + Sylvia and kiss and embrace her rapturously, and shake the hand of the + cold and haughty husband, and peer into the wonderful bundle, and go into + ecstasies over its contents. Rarely, indeed, did the great ones of this + earth condescend to spread so much of their emotional life before the + public gaze; and was it any wonder that the town crowded about, and the + proprieties were temporarily repealed? + </p> + <p> + It had never been published, but it was generally known throughout the + State that Sylvia’s child was blind, and it was whispered that this + portended something strange and awful. So there hung about the young + mother and the precious bundle an atmosphere of mystery and melancholy. + How had she taken her misfortune? How had she taken all the great events + that had befallen her—her progress through the courts and camps of + Europe? Would she still condescend to know her fellow-townsmen? Many were + the hearts that beat high as she bestowed her largess of smiles and + friendly words. There were even humble old negroes who went off enraptured + to tell the town that “Mi’ Sylvia” had actually shaken hands with them. + There was almost a cheer from the crowd as the string of automobiles set + out for Castleman Hall. + </p> + <p> + 12. There was a grand banquet that evening, at which the turkeys entered + the family. Not in years had there been so many people crowded into the + big dining-room, nor so many servants treading upon each other’s toes in + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Such a din of chatter and laughter! Sylvia was her old radiant self, and + her husband was quite evidently charmed by the patriarchal scene. He was + affable, really genial, and won the hearts of everybody; he told the good + major, amid a hush which almost turned his words into a speech, that he + was able to understand how they of the South loved their own section so + passionately; there was about the life an intangible something—a + spell, an elevation of spirit, which set it quite apart by itself. And + since this was the thing which they of the South most delighted to believe + concerning themselves, they listened enraptured, and set the speaker apart + as a rare and discerning spirit. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards came the voice of Sylvia: “You must beware of Douglas, Papa; he + is an inveterate flatterer.” She laughed as she said it; and of those + present it was Aunt Varina alone who caught the ominous note, and saw the + bitter curl of her lips as she spoke. Aunt Varina and her niece were the + only persons there who knew Douglas van Tuiver well enough to appreciate + the irony of the term “inveterate flatterer.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia realized at once that her husband was setting out upon a campaign + to win her family to his side. He rode about the major’s plantations, + absorbing information about the bollweevil. He rode back to the house, and + exchanged cigars, and listened to stories of the major’s boyhood during + the war. He went to call upon Bishop Chilton, and sat in his study, with + its walls of faded black volumes on theology. Van Tuiver himself had had a + Church of England tutor, and was a punctilious high churchman; but he + listened respectfully to arguments for a simpler form of church + organization, and took away a voluminous <i>exposé</i> of the fallacies of + “Apostolic Succession.” And then came Aunt Nannie, ambitious and alert as + when she had helped the young millionaire to find a wife; and the young + millionaire made the suggestion that Aunt Nannie’s third daughter should + not fail to visit Sylvia at Newport. + </p> + <p> + There was no limit, apparently, to what he would do. He took Master + Castleman Lysle upon his knee, and let him drop a valuable watch upon the + floor. He got up early in the morning and went horse-back riding with + Peggy and Maria. He took Celeste automobiling, and helped by his + attentions to impress the cocksure young man with whom Celeste was in + love. He won “Miss Margaret” by these attentions to all her children, and + the patience with which he listened to accounts of the ailments which had + afflicted the precious ones at various periods of their lives. To Sylvia, + watching all these proceedings, it was as if he were binding himself to + her with so many knots. + </p> + <p> + She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone. But + this could not be, she discovered. There was gossip about the child’s + blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into hiding + would have meant an admission of the worst. The ladies of the family had + prepared a grand “reception,” at which all Castleman County was to come + and gaze upon the happy mother. And then there was the monthly dance at + the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the hope of seeing the + royal pair. To Sylvia it was as if her mother and aunts were behind her + every minute of the day, pushing her out into the world. “Go on, go on! + Show yourself! Do not let people begin to talk!” + </p> + <p> + 13. She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, Harley + Chilton. “Harley,” she said, “my husband is anxious to go on a + hunting-trip. Will you go with him?” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Right away; to-morrow or the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m game,” said Harley. + </p> + <p> + After which she went to her husband. “Douglas, it is time for you to go.” + </p> + <p> + He sat studying her face. “You still have that idea?” he said, at last. + </p> + <p> + “I still have it.” + </p> + <p> + “I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would + partially return.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you have been hoping, Douglas. And I am sorry—but I am + quite unchanged.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we not been getting along happily here?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not—I have been wretched. And I cannot have any peace + until you no longer haunt me. I am sorry for you, but I must be alone—and + so long as you are here the entertainments will continue.” + </p> + <p> + “We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments. We could + find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she said, “I have spoken to Cousin Harley. He is ready to go + hunting with you. Please call him up and make arrangements to start + to-morrow. If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for one + of Uncle Mandeville’s plantations.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. “Sylvia,” he said, at last, “how long do you + imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?” + </p> + <p> + “It will continue forever. My mind is made up. It is necessary that you + make up yours.” + </p> + <p> + Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control. “You propose to + keep the baby with you?” he asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + “For the present, yes. The baby cannot get along without me.” + </p> + <p> + “And for the future?” + </p> + <p> + “We will make a fair arrangement as to that. Give me a little time to get + myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in New + York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often as you + please. I have no desire to take her from you—I only want to take + myself from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia,” he said, “have you realized all the unhappiness this course of + yours is going to bring to your people?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t begin that now!” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said, “how determined you are to punish me. But I should + think you would try to find some way to spare them.” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas,” she replied, “I know exactly what you have been doing. I have + watched your change of character since you came here. You may be able to + make my people so unhappy that I must be unhappy also. You see how deeply + I love them, how I yield everything for love of them. But let me make it + clear, I will not yield this. It was for their sake I went into this + marriage, but I have come to see that it was wrong, and no power on earth + can induce me to stay in it. My mind is made up—I will not live with + a man I do not love. I will not even pretend to do it. Now do you + understand me, Douglas?” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, while she waited for some word from him. When none + came, she asked, “You will arrange to go to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + He answered calmly, “I see no reason why I, your husband, should permit + you to pursue this insane course. You propose to leave me; and the reason + you give is one that would, if it were valid, break up two-thirds of the + homes in the country. Your own family will stand by me in my effort to + prevent your ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect to do?” she asked in a suppressed voice. + </p> + <p> + “I have to assume that my wife is insane; and I shall look after her till + she comes to her senses.” + </p> + <p> + She sat watching him for a few moments, wondering at him. Then she said, + “You are willing to stay on here, day after day, pursuing me in the only + refuge I have. Well then, I shall not consider your feelings. I have a + work to do here—and I think that when I begin it, you will want to + be far away.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked—and he looked at her as if she were + really a maniac. + </p> + <p> + “You see my sister Celeste is about to marry. That was the wonderful news + she had to tell me at the depot. It happens that I have known Roger Peyton + all my life, and know he has the reputation of being one of the ‘fastest’ + boys in the town.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just this, Douglas—I do not intend to leave my sister unprotected + as I was. I am going to tell her about Elaine. I am going to tell her all + that she needs to know. It is bound to mean arguments with the old people, + and in the end the whole family will be discussing the subject. I feel + sure you will not care to be here under such circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask when this begins?” he inquired, with intense bitterness in + his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Right away,” she said. “I have merely been waiting until you should go.” + </p> + <p> + He said not a word, but she knew by the expression on his face that she + had carried her point at last. He turned and left the room; and that was + the last word she had with him, save for their formal parting in the + presence of the family. + </p> + <p> + 14. Roger Peyton was the son and heir of one of the oldest families in + Castleman County. I had heard of this family before—in a wonderful + story that Sylvia told of the burning of “Rose Briar,” their stately + mansion, some years previously: how the neighbours had turned out to + extinguish the flames, and failing, had danced a last whirl in the + ball-room, while the fire roared in the stories overhead. The house had + since been rebuilt, more splendid than ever, and the prestige of the + family stood undiminished. One of the sons was an old “flame” of Sylvia’s, + and another was married to one of the Chilton girls. As for Celeste, she + had been angling for Roger the past year or two, and she stood now at the + apex of happiness. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia went to her father, to talk with him about the difficult subject of + venereal disease. The poor major had never expected to live to hear such a + discourse from a daughter of his; however, with the blind child under his + roof, he could not find words to stop her. “But, Sylvia,” he protested, + “what reason have you to suspect such a thing of Roger Peyton?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the reason of his life. You know that he has the reputation of + being ‘fast’; you know that he drinks, you know that I once refused to + speak to him because he danced with me when he was drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “My child, all the men you know have sowed their wild oats.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you must not take advantage of me in such a discussion. I don’t + claim to know what sins may be included in the phrase ‘wild oats.’ Let us + speak frankly—can you say that you think it unlikely that Roger + Peyton has been unchaste?” + </p> + <p> + The major hesitated and coughed; finally he said: “The boy drinks, Sylvia; + further than that I have no knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “The medical books tell me that the use of alcohol tends to break down + self-control, and to make continence impossible. And if that be true, you + must admit that we have a right to ask assurances. What do you suppose + that Roger and his crowd are doing when they go roistering about the + streets at night? What do they do when they go off to Mardi Gras? Or at + college—you know that Cousin Clive had to get him out of trouble + several times. Go and ask Clive if Roger has ever been exposed to the + possibility of these diseases.” + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said the major, “Clive would not feel he had the right to tell + me such things about his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even when the friend wants to marry his cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “But such questions are not asked, my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, I have thought this matter out carefully, and I hava something + definite to propose to you. I have no idea of stopping with what Clive + Chilton may or may not see fit to tell about his chum. I want <i>you</i> + to go to Roger.” + </p> + <p> + Major Castleman’s face wore a blank stare. + </p> + <p> + “If he’s going to marry your daughter, you have the right to ask about his + past. What I want you to tell him is that you will get the name of a + reputable specialist in these diseases, and that before he can have your + daughter he must present you with a letter from this man, to the effect + that he is fit to marry.” + </p> + <p> + The poor major was all but speechless. “My child, who ever heard of such a + proposition?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that any one ever did, papa. But it seems to me time they + should begin to hear of it; and I don’t see who can have a better right to + take the first step than you and I, who have paid such a dreadful price + for our neglect.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia had been prepared for opposition—the instinctive opposition + which men manifest to having this embarrassing subject dragged out into + the light of day. Even men who have been chaste themselves—good + fathers of families like the major—cannot be unaware of the + complications incidental to frightening their women-folk, and setting up + an impossibly high standard in sons-in-law. But Sylvia stood by her guns; + at last she brought her father to his knees by the threat that if he could + not bring himself to talk with Roger Peyton, she, Sylvia Castleman, would + do it. + </p> + <p> + 15. The young suitor came by appointment the next day, and had a session + with the Major in his office. After he had gone, Sylvia went to her father + and found him pacing the floor, with an extinct cigar between his lips, + and several other ruined cigars lying on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “You asked him, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, daughter——” The major flung his cigar from him with + desperate energy. “It was most embarrassing!” he exclaimed—“most + painful!” His pale old face was crimson with blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, papa,” said Sylvia, gentle but firm. + </p> + <p> + “The poor boy—naturally, Sylvia, he could not but feel hurt that I + should think it necessary to ask such questions. Such things are not done, + my child. It seemed to him that I must look upon him as—well, as + much worse than other young fellows——” + </p> + <p> + The old man stopped, and began to walk restlessly up and down. “Yes, + papa,” said Sylvia. “What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said it seemed to him that such a matter might have been left to + the honour of a man whom I was willing to think of as a son-in-law. And + you see, my child, what an embarrassing position I was in; I could not + give him any hint as to my reason for being anxious about these matters—anything, + you understand, that might be to the discredit of your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I gave him a fatherly talking to about his way of life.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ask him the definite question as to his health?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you anything definite?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn’t do what you had set out to do!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. I told him that he must see a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “You made quite clear to him what you wanted?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did—really, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” She went to him and took his arm and led him to a + couch. “Come, papa, let us get to the facts. You must tell me.” They sat + down, and the major sighed, lit a fresh cigar, rolled it about in his + fingers until it was ruined, and then flung it away. + </p> + <p> + “Boys don’t talk freely to older men,” he said. “They really never do. You + may doubt this——” + </p> + <p> + “What did he <i>say,</i> papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really say anything.” And here + the major came to a complete halt. + </p> + <p> + His daughter, after studying his face for a minute, remarked, “In plain + words, papa, you think he has something to hide, and he may not be able to + give you the evidence you asked?” + </p> + <p> + The other was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You fear that is the situation, but you are trying not to believe it.” As + he still said nothing, Sylvia whispered, “Poor Celeste!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she put her hands upon his shoulders, and looked into his eye. + “Papa, can’t you see what that means—that Celeste ought to have been + told these things long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “What good would that have done?” he asked, in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “She could have known what kind of man she was choosing; and she might be + spared the dreadful unhappiness that is before her now.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia! Sylvia!” protested the other. “Surely such things cannot be + discussed with innocent young girls!” + </p> + <p> + “So long as we refuse to do it, we are simply entering into a conspiracy + with the man of loose life, so that he may escape the worst penalty of his + evil-doing. Take the boys in our own set—why is it they feel safe in + running off to the big cities and ‘sowing their wild oats’—even + sowing them in the obscure parts of their own town? Is it not because they + know that their sisters and girl friends are ignorant and helpless; so + that when they are ready to pick a wife, they will be at no disadvantage? + Here is Celeste; she knows that Roger has been ‘wild,’ but no one has + hinted to her what that means; she thinks of things that are picturesque—that + he’s high-spirited, and brave, and free with his money.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my daughter,” protested the major, “such knowledge would have a + terrible effect upon young girls!” He rose and began to pace the floor + again. “Daughter, you are letting yourself run wild! The sweetness, the + virginal innocence of young and pure women—if you take that from + them, there’d be nothing left to keep men from falling to the level of + brutes!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Sylvia, “all that sounds well, but it has no meaning. I have + been robbed of my ‘innocence,’ and I know that it has not debased me. It + has only fitted me to deal with the realities of life. And it will do the + same for any girl who is taught by earnest and reverent people. Now, as it + is, we have to tell Celeste, but we tell her too late.” + </p> + <p> + “But we <i>won’t</i> have to tell her!” cried the major. + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa, please explain how we can avoid telling her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will inform her that she must give the young man up. She is a good and + dutiful daughter——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Sylvia, “but suppose on this one occasion she were to fail + to be good and dutiful? Suppose the next day you learn that she had run + away and married Roger—what would you do about it then?” + </p> + <p> + 16. That evening Roger was to take his <i>fiancée</i> to one of the young + people’s dances. And there was Celeste, in a flaming red dress, with a + great bunch of flaming roses; she could wear these colours, with her + brilliant black hair and gorgeous complexion. Roger was fair, with a + frank, boyish face, and they made a pretty couple; but that evening Roger + did not come. Sylvia helped to dress her sister, and then watched her + wandering restlessly about the hall, while the hour came and went. Later + in the evening Major Castleman called up the Peyton home. The boy was not + there, and no one seemed to know where he was. + </p> + <p> + Nor the next day did there come any explanation. At the Peytons it was + still declared that no one had heard from Roger, and for another day the + mystery continued, to Celeste’s distress and mortification. At last, from + Clive Chilton, Sylvia managed to extract the truth. Roger was drunk—crazy + drunk, and had been taken off by some of the boys to be straightened out. + </p> + <p> + Of course this rumour soon got to the rest of the family and they had to + tell Celeste, because she was frantic with anxiety. There were grave + consultations among the Castleman ladies. It was a wanton affront to his + <i>fiancée</i> that the boy had committed, and something must be done + about it quickly. Then came the news that Roger had escaped from his + warders, and got drunker than ever; he had been out at night, smashing the + street lamps, and it had required extreme self-control on the part of the + town police force to avoid complications. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Margaret” went to her young daughter, and in a tear-flooded scene + informed her of the opinion of the family, that her self-respect required + the breaking of the engagement. Celeste went into hysterics. She would <i>not</i> + have her happiness ruined for life! Roger was “wild,” but so were all the + other boys—and he would atone for his recklessness. She had the idea + that if only she could get hold of him, she could recall him to his + senses; the more her mother was scandalised by this proposal, the more + frantically Celeste wept. She shut herself up in her room, refusing to + appear at meals, and spending her time pacing the floor and wringing her + hands. + </p> + <p> + The family had been through all this with their eldest daughter several + years before, but they had not learned to handle it any better. The whole + household was in a state of distraction, and the conditions grew worse day + by day, as bulletins came in concerning the young man. He seemed to have + gone actually insane. He was not to be restrained even by his own father, + and if the unfortunate policemen could be believed, he had violently + attacked them. Apparently he was trying to break down the unwritten law + that the sons of the “best families” are not arrested. + </p> + <p> + Poor Celeste, with pale, tear-drenched face, sent for her elder sister, to + make one last appeal. Could Sylvia not somehow get hold of Roger and bring + him to his senses? Could she not interview some of the other boys, and + find out what he meant by his conduct? + </p> + <p> + So Sylvia went to her cousin Clive, and had a talk with him—assuredly + the most remarkable talk that that young man had ever had in his life. She + told him that she wanted to know the truth about Roger Peyton, and after a + cross-examination that would have made the reputation of a criminal + lawyer, she got what she wanted. All the young men in town, it seemed, + knew the true state of affairs, and were in a panic concerning it; that + Major Castleman had sent for Roger and informed him that he could not + marry his daughter, until he produced a certain kind of medical + certificate. No, he couldn’t produce it! Was there a fellow in town who + could produce it? What was there for him to do but to get drunk and stay + drunk, until Celeste had cast him off? + </p> + <p> + It was Clive’s turn then to do some plain speaking. “Look here, Sylvia,” + he said, “since you have made me talk about this——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Clive?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what people are saying—I mean the reason the Major made + this proposition to Roger?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, in a quiet voice: “I suppose, Clive, it has something to do + with Elaine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, exactly!” exclaimed Clive. “They say—” But then he stopped. He + could not repeat it. “Surely you don’t want that kind of talk, Sylvia?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, Clive, I’d prefer to escape that kind of talk, but my fear of + it will not make me neglect the protection of my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “But Sylvia,” cried the boy, “you don’t understand about this! A woman <i>can’t</i> + understand about these things——” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, my dear cousin,” said Sylvia—and her voice was + firm and decisive. “I <i>do</i> understand.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” cried Clive, with sudden exasperation. “But let me tell you + this—Celeste is going to have a hard time getting any other man to + propose to her!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, Clive, because so many of them are——?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you must put it that way,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, then Sylvia went on: “Let us discuss the practical + problem, Clive. Don’t you think it would have been better if Roger, + instead of going off and getting drunk, had set about getting himself + cured?” + </p> + <p> + The other looked at her, with evident surprise. “You mean in that case + Celeste might marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “You say the boys are all alike, Clive; and we can’t turn our girls into + nuns. Why didn’t some of you fellows point that out to Roger?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is,” said Clive, “we tried to.” There was a little more + cordiality in his manner, since Sylvia had shown such a unexpected amount + of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked. “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he wouldn’t listen to anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—because he was drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we had him nearly sober. But you see—” And Clive paused for a + moment, painfully embarrassed. “The truth is, Roger had been to a doctor, + and been told it might take him a year or two to get cured.” + </p> + <p> + “Clive!” she cried. “Clive! And you mean that in the face of that, he + proposed to go on and marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sylvia, you see—” And the young man hesitated still longer. + He was crimson with embarrassment, and suddenly he blurted out: “The truth + is, the doctor told him to marry. That was the only way he’d ever get + cured.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia was almost speechless. “Oh! Oh!” she cried, “I can’t believe you!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what the doctors tell you, Sylvia. You don’t understand—it’s + just as I told you, a woman can’t understand. It’s a question of a man’s + nature——” + </p> + <p> + “But Clive—what about the wife and her health? Has the wife no + rights whatever?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, Sylvia, people don’t take this disease with such desperate + seriousness. You understand, it isn’t the one that everybody knows is + dangerous. It doesn’t do any real harm——” + </p> + <p> + “Look at Elaine! Don’t you call that real harm?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that doesn’t happen often, and they say there are ways it can be + prevented. Anyway, fellows just can’t help it! God knows we’d help it if + we could.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia thought for a moment, and then came back to the immediate question. + “It’s evident what Roger could do in this case. He is young, and Celeste + is still younger. They might wait a couple of years and Roger might take + care of himself, and in time it might be properly arranged.” + </p> + <p> + But Clive did not seem too warm to the proposition, and Sylvia, who knew + Roger Peyton, was not long in making out the reason. “You mean you don’t + think he has character enough to keep straight for a year or two?” + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the honest truth, we talked it out with him, and he wouldn’t + make any promises.” + </p> + <p> + To which Sylvia answered: “Very well, Clive—that settles it. You can + help me find some man for Celeste who loves her a little more than that!” + </p> + <p> + 17. That afternoon came Aunt Nannie, the Bishop’s wife, in shining + chestnut-coloured silk to match a pair of shining chestnut-coloured + horses. Other people, it appeared, had been making inquiries into Roger + Peyton’s story, and other people besides Clive Chilton had been telling + the truth. Aunt Nannie gathered the ladies of the family in a hurried + conference, and Sylvia was summoned to appear before it—quite as in + the days of her affair with Frank Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Margaret” and Aunt Varina were solemn and frightened, as of old; + and, as of old, Aunt Nannie did the talking. “Sylvia, do you know what + people are saying about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Nannie” said Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course. And I knew in advance that they would say it.” + </p> + <p> + Something about the seraphic face of Sylvia, chastened by terrible + suffering, must have suggested to Mrs. Chilton the idea of caution. “Have + you thought of the humiliation this must inflict upon your relatives?” + </p> + <p> + “I have found, Aunt Nannie,” said Sylvia, “that there are worse + afflictions than being talked about.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” declared the other, “that anything could be worse than to + be the object of the kind of gossip that is now seething around our + family. It has been the tradition of our people to bear their afflictions + in silence.” + </p> + <p> + “In this case, Aunt Nannie, it is obvious that silence would have meant + more afflictions, many more. I have thought of my sister—and of all + the other girls in our family, who may be led to sacrifice by the + ambitions of their relatives.” Sylvia paused a moment, so that her words + might have effect. + </p> + <p> + Said the bishop’s wife: “Sylvia, we cannot undertake to save the world + from the results of its sins. God has his own ways of punishing men.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so, but surely God does not wish the punishment to fall upon + innocent young girls. For instance, Aunt Nannie, think of your own + daughters——” + </p> + <p> + “My daughters!” broke out Mrs. Chilton. And then, mastering her + excitement: “At least, you will permit me to look after my own children.” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich + came into the room last night. Have you noticed anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she not? I certainly consider him an eligible man.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton’s set. You + know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, and + you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him! You have taken no steps + to find out about him—you have not warned your daughter—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation. “Warned my daughter! Who ever + heard of such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + Said Sylvia, quietly: “I can believe that you never heard of it—but + you will hear soon. The other day I had a talk with Lucy May—” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Castleman!” And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself that + she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic. “Sylvia,” she said, in a + suppressed voice, “you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my + young daughter’s mind—” + </p> + <p> + “You have brought her up well,” said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for lack + of words. “She did not want to listen to me. She said that young girls + ought not to know about such matters. But I pointed out Elaine, and then + she changed her mind—just as you will have to change yours in the + end, Aunt Nannie.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving. Then suddenly + she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman. “Margaret, cannot you + stop this shocking business? I demand that the tongues of gossip shall no + longer clatter around the family of which I am a member! My husband is the + bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name is of no + importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and authority + of the church may have some weight——” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Nannie,” interrupted Sylvia, “it will do no good to drag Uncle Basil + into this matter. I fear you will have to face the fact that from this + time on your authority in our family is to be diminished. You had more to + do than any other person with driving me into the marriage that has + wrecked my life, and now you want to go on and do the same thing for my + sister and for your own daughters—to marry them with no thought of + anything save the social position of the man. And in the same way you are + saving up your sons to find rich girls. You know that you kept Clive from + marrying a poor girl in this town a couple of years ago—and meantime + it seems to be nothing to you that he’s going with men like Roger Peyton + and Tom Aldrich, learning all the vices the women in the brothels have to + teach him——” + </p> + <p> + Poor “Miss Margaret” had several times made futile efforts to check her + daughter’s outburst. Now she and Aunt Varina started up at the same time. + “Sylvia! Sylvia! You must not talk like that to your aunt!” + </p> + <p> + And Sylvia turned and gazed at them with her sad eyes. “From now on,” she + said, “that is the way I am going to talk. You are a lot of ignorant + children. I was one too, but now I know. And I say to you: Look at Elaine! + Look at my little one, and see what the worship of Mammon has done to one + of the daughters of your family!” + </p> + <p> + 18. After this, Sylvia had her people reduced to a state of terror. She + was an avenging angel, sent by the Lord to punish them for their sins. How + could one rebuke the unconventionality of an avenging angel? On the other + hand, of course, one could not help being in agony, and letting the angel + see it in one’s face. Outside, there were the tongues of gossip + clattering, as Aunt Nannie had said; quite literally everyone in Castleman + County was talking about the blindness of Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver’s baby, + and how, because of it, the mother was setting out on a campaign to + destroy the modesty of the State. The excitement, the curiosity, the + obscene delight of the world came rolling back into Castleman Hall in + great waves, that picked up the unfortunate inmates and buffeted them + about. + </p> + <p> + Family consultations were restricted, because it was impossible for the + ladies of the family to talk to the gentlemen about these horrible things; + but the ladies talked to the ladies, and the gentlemen talked to the + gentlemen, and each came separately to Sylvia with their distress. Poor, + helpless “Miss Margaret” would come wringing her hands, and looking as if + she had buried all her children. “Sylvia! Sylvia! Do you realise that you + are being DISCUSSED?” That was the worst calamity that could befal a woman + in Castleman County—it summed up all possible calamities that could + befal her—to be “discussed.” “They were discussing you once when you + wanted to marry Frank Shirley! And now—oh, now they will never stop + discussing you!” + </p> + <p> + Then would come the dear major. He loved his eldest daughter as he loved + nothing else in the world, and he was a just man at heart. He could not + meet her arguments—yes, she was right, she was right. But then he + would go away, and the waves of scandal and shame would come rolling. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he pleaded, “have you thought what this thing is doing to your + husband? Do you realise that while you talk about protecting other people, + you are putting upon Douglas a brand that will follow him through life?” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Mandeville came up from New Orleans to see his favourite niece; and + the wave smote him as he alighted from the train, and he became so much + excited that he went to the club and got drunk, and then could not see his + niece, but had to be carried off upstairs and given forcible hypodermics. + Cousin Clive told Sylvia about it afterwards—how Uncle Mandeville + refused to believe the truth, and swore that he would shoot some of these + fellows if they didn’t stop talking about his niece. Said Clive, with a + grim laugh: “I told him: ‘If Sylvia had her way, you’d shoot a good part + of the men in the town.’” He answered: “Well, by God, I’ll do it—it + would serve the scoundrels right!” And he tried to get out of bed and get + his pants and his pistols—so that in the end it was necessary to + telephone for the major, and then for Barry Chilton and two of his + gigantic sons from their plantation. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia had her way, and talked things out with the agonised Celeste. And + the next day came Aunt Varina, hardly able to contain herself. “Oh, + Sylvia, such a horrible thing! To hear such words coming from your little + sister’s lips—like the toads and snakes in the fairy story! To think + of these ideas festering in a young girl’s brain!” And then again: + “Sylvia, your sister declares she will never go to a party again! You are + teaching her to hate men! You will make her a STRONG-MINDED woman!”—that + was another phrase they had summing up a whole universe of horrors. Sylvia + could not recall a time when she had not heard that warning. “Be careful, + dear, when you express an opinion, always end it with a question: ‘Don’t + you think so?’ or something like that, otherwise, men may get the idea + that you are ‘STRONG-MINDED’!” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia, in her girlhood, had heard vague hints and rumours which now she + was able to interpret in the light of her experience. In her courtship + days she had met a man who always wore gloves, even in the hottest + weather, and she had heard that this was because of some affliction of the + skin. Now, talking with the young matrons of her own set, she learned that + this man had married, and had since had to take to a wheel-chair, while + his wife had borne a child with a monstrous deformed head, and had died of + the ordeal and the shock. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the stories that one uncovered—right in one’s own town, among + one’s own set—like foul sewers underneath the pavements! The + succession of deceased generations, of imbeciles, epileptics, paralytics! + The innocent children born to a life-time of torment; the women hiding + their secret agonies from the world! Sometimes women went all through life + without knowing the truth about themselves. There was poor Mrs. Valens, + for example, who reclined all day upon the gallery of one of the most + beautiful homes in the county, and showed her friends the palms of her + hands, all covered with callouses and scales, exclaiming: “What in the + world do you suppose can be the matter with me?” She had been a beautiful + woman, a “belle” of “Miss Margaret’s” day; she had married a man who was + rich and handsome and witty—and a rake. Now he was drunk all the + time, and two of his children had died in hospital, and another had arms + that came out of joint, and had to be put in plaster of Paris for months + at a time. His wife, the one-time darling of society, would lie on her + couch and read the Book of Job until she knew it by heart. + </p> + <p> + And could you believe it, when Sylvia came home, ablaze with excitement + over the story, she found that the only thing that her relatives were able + to see in it was the Book of Job! Under the burden of her afflictions the + woman had become devout; and how could anyone fail to see in this the deep + purposes of Providence revealed? “Verily,” said “Miss Margaret,” “‘whom + the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.’ We are told in the Lord’s Word that ‘the + sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children, even unto the + third and fourth generations,’ and do you suppose the Lord would have told + us that, if He had not known there would be such children?” + </p> + <p> + 19. I cannot pass over this part of my story without bringing forward Mrs. + Armistead, the town cynic, who constituted herself one of Sylvia’s sources + of information in the crisis. Mrs. Sallie Ann Armistead was the mother of + two boys with whom Sylvia, as a child, had insisted upon playing, in spite + of the protests of the family. “Wha’ fo’ you go wi’ dem Armistead chillun, + Mi’ Sylvia?” would cry Aunt Mandy, the cook. “Doan’ you know they + granddaddy done pick cottin in de fiel’ ‘long o’ me?” But while her father + was picking cotton, Sallie Ann had looked after her complexion and her + figure, and had married a rising young merchant. Now he was the wealthy + proprietor of a chain of “nigger stores,” and his wife was the possessor + of the most dreaded tongue in Castleman County. + </p> + <p> + She was a person who, if she had been born a duchess, would have made a + reputation in history; the one woman in the county who had a mind and was + not afraid to have it known. She used all the tricks of a duchess—lorgnettes, + for example, with which she stared people into a state of fright. She did + not dare try anything like that on the Castlemans, of course, but woe to + the little people who crossed her path! She had an eye that sought out + every human weakness, and such a wit that even her victims were + fascinated. One of the legends about her told how her dearest foe, a + dashing young matron, had died, and all the friends had gathered with + their floral tributes. Sallie Ann went in to review the remains, and when + she came out a sentimental voice inquired: “And how does our poor Ruth + look?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” was the answer, “as old and grey as ever!” + </p> + <p> + Now Mrs. Armistead stopped Sylvia in the street: “My dear, how goes the + eugenics campaign?” + </p> + <p> + And while Sylvia gazed, dumbfounded, the other went on as if she were + chatting about the weather: “You can’t realise what a stir you are making + in our little frog pond. Come, see me, and let me tell you the gossip! Do + you know you’ve enriched our vocabulary?” + </p> + <p> + “I have made someone look up the meaning of eugenics, at least,” answered + Sylvia—having got herself together in haste. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not only that, my dear. You have made a new medical term—the + ‘van Tuiver disease.’ Isn’t that interesting?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Sylvia shrivelled before this flame from hell. But then, + being the only person who had ever been able to chain this devil, she + said: “Indeed? I hope that with so fashionable a name the disease does not + become an epidemic!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Armistead gazed at her, and then, in a burst of enthusiasm, she + exclaimed: “Sylvia Castleman, I have always insisted that one of the most + interesting women in the world was spoiled by the taint of goodness in + you.” + </p> + <p> + She took Sylvia to her bosom, as it were. “Let us sit on the fence and + enjoy this spectacle! My dear, you can have no idea what an uproar you are + making! The young married women gather in their boudoirs and whisper + ghastly secrets to each other; some of them are sure they have it, and + some of them say they can trust their husbands—as if any man could + be trusted as far as you can throw a bull by the horns! Did you hear about + poor Mrs. Pattie Peyton, she has the measles, but she sent for a + specialist, and vowed she had something else—she had read about it, + and knew all the symptoms, and insisted on having elaborate blood-tests! + And little Mrs. Stanley Pendleton has left her husband, and everybody says + that’s the reason. The men are simply shivering in their boots—they + steal into the doctor’s offices by the back-doors, and a whole car-load of + the boys have been shipped off to Hot Springs to be boiled—” And so + on, while Mrs. Armistead revelled in the sensation of strolling down Main + Street with Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver! + </p> + <p> + Then Sylvia would go home, and get the newest reactions of the family to + these horrors. Aunt Nannie, it seemed, made the discovery that Basil, + junr., her fifth son, was carrying on an intrigue with a mulatto girl in + the town; and she forbade him to go to Castleman Hall, for fear lest + Sylvia should worm the secret out of him; also she shipped Lucy May off to + visit a friend, and came and tried to persuade Mrs. Chilton to do the same + with Peggy and Maria, lest Sylvia should somehow corrupt these children. + </p> + <p> + The bishop came, having been ordered to preach religion to his wayward + niece. Poor dear Uncle Basil—he had tried preaching religion to + Sylvia many years ago, and never could do it because he loved her so well + that with all his Seventeenth Century theology he could not deny her + chance of salvation. Now the first sight that met his eyes when he came to + see her was his little blind grand-niece. And also he had in his secret + heart the knowledge that he, a rich and gay young planter before he became + converted to Methodism, had played with the fire of vice, and been badly + burned. So Sylvia did not find him at all the Voice of Authority, but just + a poor, hen-pecked, unhappy husband of a tyrannous Castleman woman. + </p> + <p> + The next thing was that “Miss Margaret” took up the notion that a time + such as this was not one for Sylvia’s husband to be away from her. What if + people were to say that they had separated? There were family + consultations, and in the midst of them there came word that van Tuiver + was called North upon business. When the family delegations came to + Sylvia, to insist that she go with him, the answer they got was that if + they could not let her stay quietly at home without asking her any + questions, she would go off to New York and live with a divorced woman + Socialist! + </p> + <p> + “Of course, they gave up,” she wrote me. “And half an hour ago poor dear + mamma came to my room and said: ‘Sylvia, dear, we will let you do what you + want, but won’t you please do one small favour for me?’ I got ready for + trouble, and asked what she wanted. Her answer was: ‘Won’t you go with + Celeste to the Young Matrons’ Cotillion tomorrow night, so that people + won’t think there’s anything the matter?’” + </p> + <p> + 20. Roger Peyton had gone off to Hot Springs, and Douglas van Tuiver was + in New York; so little by little the storms about Castleman Hall began to + abate in violence. Sylvia was absorbed with her baby, and beginning to fit + her life into that of her people. She found many ways in which she could + serve them—entertaining Uncle Mandeville to keep him sober; checking + the extravagrance of Celeste; nursing Castleman Lysle through green apple + convulsions. That was to be her life for the future, she told herself, and + she was making herself really happy in it—when suddenly, like a bolt + from the blue, came an event that swept her poor little plans into chaos. + </p> + <p> + It was an afternoon in March, the sun was shining brightly and the + Southern springtime was in full tide, and Sylvia had had the old family + carriage made ready, with two of the oldest and gentlest family horses, + and took the girls upon a shopping expedition to town. In the front seat + sat Celeste, driving, with two of her friends, and in the rear seat was + Sylvia, with Peggy and Maria. When an assemblage of allurements such as + this stopped on the streets of the town, the young men would come out of + the banks and the offices and gather round to chat. There would be a halt + before an ice-cream parlour, and a big tray of ices would be brought out, + and the girls would sit in the carriage and eat, and the boys would stand + on the curb and eat—undismayed by the fact that they had welcomed + half a dozen such parties during the afternoon. The statistics proved that + this was a thriving town, with rapidly increasing business, but there was + never so much business as to interfere with gallantries like these. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia enjoyed the scene; it took her back to happy days, before black + care had taken his seat behind her. She sat in a kind of dream, only half + hearing the merriment of the young people, and only half tasting her ice. + How she loved this old town, with its streets deep in black spring mud, + its mud-plastered “buck-boards” and saddle horses hitched at every + telegraph pole! Its banks and stores and law offices seemed shabbier after + one had made the “grand tour,” but they were none the less dear to her for + that. She would spend the rest of her days in Castleman County, and the + sunshine and peace would gradually enfold her. + </p> + <p> + Such were her thoughts when the unforeseen event befel. A man on + horse-back rode down a side-street, crossing Main Street a little way in + front of her; a man dressed in khaki, with a khaki riding hat pulled low + over his face. He rode rapidly—appearing and vanishing, so that + Sylvia scarcely saw him—really did not see him with her conscious + mind at all. Her thoughts were still busy with dreams, and the clatter of + boys and girls; but deep within her had begun a tumult—a trembling, + a pounding of the heart, a clamouring under the floors of her + consciousness. + </p> + <p> + And slowly this excitement mounted. What was the matter, what had + happened? A man had ridden by, but why should a man—. Surely it + could not have been—no. There were hundreds of men in Castleman + County who wore khaki and rode horse-back, and had sturdy, thick-set + figures! But then, how could she make a mistake? How could her instinct + have betrayed her so? It was that same view of him as he sat on a horse + that had first thrilled her during the hunting party years ago! + </p> + <p> + He had gone West, and had said that he would never return. He had not been + heard from in years. What an amazing thing, that a mere glimpse of a man + who looked and dressed and rode like him should be able to set her whole + being into such a panic! How futile became her dreams of peace! + </p> + <p> + She heard the sound of a vehicle close beside her carriage, and turned and + found herself looking into the sharp eyes of Mrs. Armistead. It happened + that Sylvia was on the side away from the curb, and there was no one + talking to her; so Mrs. Armistead ran her electric alongside, and had the + stirring occasion to herself. Sylvia looked into her face, so full of + malice, and knew two things in a flash: First, it really had been Frank + Shirley riding by; and second, Mrs. Armistead had seen him! + </p> + <p> + “Another candidate for your eugenics class!” said the lady. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia glanced at the young people and made sure they were paying no + attention. She might have made some remark that would have brought them + into the conversation, and delivered her from the torments of this devil. + But no, she had never quailed from Mrs. Armistead in her life, and she + would not now give her the satisfaction of driving off to tell the town + that Sylvia van Tuiver had seen Frank Shirley, and had been overcome by + it, and had taken refuge behind the skirts of her little sisters! + </p> + <p> + “You can see I have my carriage full of pupils” she said, smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “How happy it must make you, Sylvia—coming home and meeting all your + old friends! It must set you trembling with ecstasy—angels singing + in the sky above you—little golden bells ringing all over you!” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia recognised these phrases. They were part of an effort she had made + to describe the raptures of young love to her bosom friend, Harriet + Atkinson. And so Harriet had passed them on to the town! And they had been + cherished all these years. + </p> + <p> + She could not afford to recognise these illegitimate children of romance. + “Mrs. Armistead,” she said, “I had no idea you had so much poetry in you!” + </p> + <p> + “I am simply improvising, my dear—upon the colour in your cheeks at + present!” + </p> + <p> + There was no way save to be bold. “You couldn’t expect me not to be + excited, Mrs. Armistead. You see, I had no idea he had come back from the + West.” + </p> + <p> + “They say he left a wife there.” remarked the lady, innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Sylvia. “Then he will not be staying long, presumably.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause; all at once Mrs. Armistead’s voice became gentle and + sympathetic. “Sylvia,” she said, “don’t imagine that I fail to appreciate + what is going on in your heart. I know a true romance when I see one. If + only you could have known in those days what you know now, there might + have been one beautiful love story that did not end as a tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + You would have thought the lady’s better self had suddenly been touched. + But Sylvia knew her; too many times she had seen this huntress trying to + lure a victim out of his refuge. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Armistead,” she said, gently. “But I have the consolation at + least of being a martyr to science.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten the new medical term that I have given to the world?” + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Armistead looked at her for a moment aghast. “My God, Sylvia!” + she whispered; and then—an honest tribute: “You certainly can take + care of yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sylvia. “Tell that to my other friends in town.” And so, at + last, Mrs. Armistead started her machine, and this battle of hell-cats + came to an end. + </p> + <p> + 21. Sylvia rode home in a daze, answering without hearing the prattle of + the children. She was appalled at the emotions that possessed her—that + the sight of Frank Shirley riding down the street could have affected her + so! She forgot Mrs. Armistead, she forgot the whole world, in her dismay + over her own state of mind. Having dismissed Frank from her life and her + thoughts forever, it seemed to her preposterous that she should be at the + mercy of such an excitement. + </p> + <p> + She found herself wondering about her family. Did they know that Frank + Shirley had returned? Would they have failed to mention it to her? For a + moment she told herself it would not have occurred to them she could have + any interest in the subject. But no—they were not so <i>naive</i>—the + Castleman women—as their sense of propriety made them pretend to be! + But how stupid of them not to give her warning! Suppose she had happened + to meet Frank face to face, and in the presence of others! She must + certainly have betrayed her excitement; and just at this time, when the + world had the Castleman family under the microscope! + </p> + <p> + She told herself that she would avoid such difficulty in future; she would + stay at home until Frank had gone away. If he had a wife in the West, + presumably he had merely come for a visit to his mother and sisters. And + then Sylvia found herself in an argument with herself. What possible + difference could it make that Frank Shirley had a wife? So long as she, + Sylvia, had a husband, what else mattered? Yet she could not deny it—it + brought her a separate and additional pang that Frank Shirley should have + married. What sort of wife could he have found—he, a stranger in the + far West? And why had he not brought his wife home to his people? + </p> + <p> + When she stepped out of the carriage, it was with her mind made up that + she would stay at home until all danger was past. But the next afternoon a + neighbour called up to ask Sylvia and Celeste to come and play cards in + the evening. It was not a party, Mrs. Witherspoon explained to “Miss + Margaret,” who answered the ‘phone; just a few friends and a good time, + and she did so hope that Sylvia was not going to refuse. The mere hint of + the fear that Sylvia might refuse was enough to excite Mrs. Castleman. Why + should Sylvia refuse? So she accepted the invitation, and then came to + plead with her daughter—for Celeste’s sake, and for the sake of all + her family, so that the world might see that she was not crushed by + misfortune! + </p> + <p> + There were reasons why the invitation was a difficult one to decline. Mrs. + Virginia Witherspoon was the daughter of a Confederate general whose name + you read in every history-book; and she had a famous old home in the + country which was falling about her ears—her husband being seldom + sober enough to know what was happening. She had also three blossoming + daughters, whom she must manage to get out of the home before the + plastering of the drawing-room fell upon the heads of their suitors; so + that the ardour of her husband-hunting was one of the jokes of the State. + Naturally, under such circumstances, the Witherspoons had to be treated + with consideration by the Castlemans. One might snub rich Yankees, and + chasten the suddenly-prosperous; but a family with an ancient house in + ruins, and with faded uniforms and battle-scarred sabres in the + cedar-chests in its attic—such a family can with difficulty overdraw + its social bank account. + </p> + <p> + Dolly Witherspoon, the oldest daughter, had been Sylvia’s rival for the + palm as the most beautiful girl in Castleman County. And Sylvia had + triumphed, and Dolly had failed. So, in her secret heart she hated Sylvia, + and the mother hated her; and yet—such was the social game—they + had to invite Sylvia and her sister to their card-parties, and Sylvia and + her sister had to go. They had to go and be the most striking figures + there: Celeste, slim and pale from sorrow, virginal, in clinging white + chiffon; and Sylvia, regal and splendid, shimmering like a mermaid in a + gown of emerald green. + </p> + <p> + The mermaid imagined that she noticed a slight agitation underneath the + cordiality of her hostess. The next person to greet her was Mrs. + Armistead; and Sylvia was sure that she did not imagine the suppressed + excitement in that lady’s manner. But even while she was speculating and + suspecting, she was led toward the drawing-room. It was late, her hostess + explained; the other guests were waiting, so if they did not mind, the + play would start at once. Celeste was to sit at that table over there, + with Mr. Witherspoon’s crippled brother, and old Mr. Perkins, who was + deaf; and Sylvia was to come this way—the table in the corner. + Sylvia moved toward it, and Dolly Witherspoon and her sister, Emma, + greeted her cordially, and then stepped out of the way to let her to her + seat; and Sylvia gave one glance—and found herself face to face with + Frank Shirley! + </p> + <p> + 22. Frank’s face was scarlet; and Sylvia had a moment of blind terror, + when she wanted to turn and fly. But there about her was the circle of her + enemies; a whole roomful of people, breathless with curiosity, drinking in + with eyes and ears every hint of distress that she might give. And the + next morning the whole town would, in imagination, attend the scene! + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Julia,” said Sylvia, to Mrs. Witherspoon’s youngest + daughter, the other lady at the table. “Good-evening, Malcolm”—to + Malcolm McCallum, an old “beau” of hers. And then, taking the seat which + Malcolm sprang to move out for her, “How do you do, Frank?” + </p> + <p> + Frank’s eyes had fallen to his lap. “How do you do?” he murmured. The + sound of his voice, low and trembling, full of pain, was like the sound of + some old funeral bell to Sylvia; it sent the blood leaping in torrents to + her forehead. Oh, horrible, horrible! + </p> + <p> + For a moment her eyes fell like his, and she shuddered, and was beaten. + But there was the roomful of people, watching; there was Mrs. Armistead, + there were the Witherspoon women gloating. She forced a tortured smile to + her lips, and asked, “What are we playing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, didn’t you know that?” said Julia. “Progressive whist.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank-you,” said Sylvia. “When do we begin?” And she looked about—anywhere + but at Frank Shirley, with his face grown so old in four years. + </p> + <p> + No one said anything, no one made a move. Was everybody in the room + conspiring to break her down? “I thought we were late,” she said, + desperately; and then, with another effort—“Shall I cut?” she asked, + of Julia. + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said the girl; but she did not make a motion to pass the + cards. Her manner seemed to say, You may cut all night, but it won’t help + you to rob me of this satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia made a still more determined effort. If the game was to be + postponed indefinitely, so that people might watch her and Frank—well, + she would have to find something to talk about. + </p> + <p> + “It is a surprise to see you again, Frank Shirley!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. His voice was a mumble, and he did not lift his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You have been in the West, I understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” again; but still he did not lift his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia managed to lift hers as far as his cravat; and she saw in it an old + piece of imitation jewelry which she had picked up once on the street, and + had handed to him in jest. He had worn it all these years! He had not + thrown it away—not even when she had thrown him away! + </p> + <p> + Again came a surge of emotion; and out of the mist she looked about her + and saw the faces of tormenting demons, leering. “Well,” she demanded, + “are we going to play?” + </p> + <p> + “We were waiting for you to cut,” said Julia, graciously; and Sylvia’s + fury helped to restore her self-posession. She cut the cards; and fate was + kind, sparing both her and Frank the task of dealing. + </p> + <p> + But then a new difficulty arose. Julia dealt, and thirteen cards lay in + front of Frank Shirley; but he did not seem to know that he ought to pick + them up. And when the opposing lady called him to time, in what seemed an + unnecessarily penetrating voice, he found that he was physically unable to + get the cards from the table. And when with his fumbling efforts he got + them into a bunch, he could not straighten them out—to say nothing + of the labour of sorting them according to suit, which all whist-players + know to be an indispensable preliminary to the game. When the opposing + lady prodded him again, Frank’s face changed from vivid scarlet to a dark + and alarming purple. + </p> + <p> + Miss Julia led the tray of clubs; and Frank, whose turn came next, spilled + three cards upon the table, and finally selected from them the king of + hearts to play—hearts being trumps. “But you have a club there, Mr. + Shirley,” said his opponent; something that was pardonable, inasmuch as + the nine of clubs lay face up where he had shoved it aside. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—I beg pardon,” he stammered, and took back his king, and reached + into his hand and pulled out the six of clubs, and a diamond with it. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that this could not go on. Sylvia might be equal to the + emergency, but Frank was not. He was too much of a human being and too + little of a social automaton. Something must be done. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t they play whist out West, Mr. Shirley,” asked Julia, still smiling + benevolently. + </p> + <p> + And Sylvia lowered her cards. “Surely, my dear, you must understand,” she + said, gently. “Mr. Shirley is too much embarrassed to think about cards.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the other, taken aback. (<i>L’audace, touljours l’audace!</i> + runs the formula!) + </p> + <p> + “You see,” continued Sylvia, “this is the first time that Frank has seen + me in more than three years. And when two people have been as much in love + as he and I were, they are naturally disturbed when they meet, and cannot + put their minds upon a game of cards.” + </p> + <p> + Julia was speechless. And Sylvia let her glance wander casually about the + room. She saw her hostess and her daughters standing watching; and near + the wall at the other side of the room stood the head-devil, who had + planned this torment. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Armistead,” Sylvia called, “aren’t you going to play to-night?” Of + course everybody in the room heard this; and after it, anyone could have + heard a pin drop. + </p> + <p> + “I’m to keep score,” said Mrs. Armistead. + </p> + <p> + “But it doesn’t need four to keep score,” objected Sylvia—and looked + at the three Witherspoon ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly and Emma are staying out,” said Mrs. Witherspoon. “Two of our + guests did not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Sylvia exclaimed, “that just makes it right! Please let them take + the place of Mr. Shirley and myself. You see, we haven’t seen each other + for three or four years, and it’s hard for us to get interested into a + game of cards.” + </p> + <p> + The whole room caught its breath at once; and here and there one heard a + little squeak of hysteria, cut short by some one who was not sure whether + it was a joke or a scandal. “Why—Sylvia!” stammered Mrs. + Witherspoon, completely staggered. + </p> + <p> + Then Sylvia perceived that she was mistress of the scene. There came the + old rapture of conquest, that made her social genius. “We have so much + that we want to talk about,” she said, in her most winning voice. “Let + Dolly and Emma take our places, and we will sit on the sofa in the other + room and chat. You and Mrs. Armistead come and chaperone us. Won’t you do + that, please?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why——” gasped the bewildered lady. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure that you will both be interested to hear what we have to say to + each other; and you can tell everybody about it afterwards—and that + will be so much better than having the card-game delayed any more.” + </p> + <p> + And with this side-swipe Sylvia arose. She stood and waited, to make sure + that her ex-fiancé was not too paralysed to follow. She led him out + through the tangle of card-tables; and in the door-way she stopped and + waited for Mrs. Armistead and Mrs. Witherspoon, and literally forced these + two ladies to come with her out of the room. + </p> + <p> + 23. Do you care to hear the details of the punishment which Sylvia + administered to the two conspirators? She took them to the sofa, and made + Frank draw up chairs for them, and when she had got comfortably seated, + she proceeded to talk to Frank just as gently and sincerely and touchingly + as she would have talked if there had been nobody present. She asked about + all that had befallen him, and when she discovered that he was still not + able to chat, she told him about herself, about her baby, who was + beautiful and dear, even if she was blind, and about all the interesting + things she had seen in Europe. When presently the old ladies showed signs + of growing restless, she put hand cuffs on them and chained them to their + chairs. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said, “it would never do for Mr. Shirley and myself to talk + without a chaperon. You got me into this situation, you know, and papa and + mamma would never forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Sylvia!” cried Mrs. Witherspoon. “Mr. Shirley so seldom + goes out, and he had said he didn’t think he would come!” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to accept that explanation,” said Sylvia, politely, “but you + must help me out now that the embarrassing accident has happened.” + </p> + <p> + Nor did it avail Mrs. Witherspoon to plead her guests and their score. + “You may be sure they don’t care about the score,” said Sylvia. “They’d + much prefer you stayed here, so that you can tell them how Frank and I + behaved.” + </p> + <p> + And then, while Mrs. Witherspoon was getting herself together, Sylvia + turned upon the other conspirator. “We will now hold one of my eugenics + classes,” she said, and added, to Frank, “Mrs. Armistead told me that you + wanted to join my class.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” replied Frank, at a loss. + </p> + <p> + “I will explain,” said Sylvia. “It is not a very refined joke they have in + the town. Mrs. Armistead meant to say that she credits a disgraceful story + that was circulated about you when we were engaged, and which my people + made use of to make me break our engagement. I am glad to have a chance to + tell you that I have investigated and satisfied myself that the story was + not true. I want to apologise to you for ever having believed it; and I am + sure that Mrs. Armistead may be glad of this opportunity to apologise for + having said that she believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “I never said that I believed it!” cried Sallie Ann. + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn’t, Mrs. Armistead—you would not be so crude as to say + it directly. You merely dropped a hint, which would lead everybody to + understand that you believed it.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia paused, just long enough to let the wicked lady suffer, but not + long enough to let her find a reply. “When you tell your friends about + this scene,” she continued, “please make clear that I did not drop hints + about anything, but said exactly what I meant—that the story is + false, so far as it implies any evil done by Mr. Shirley, and that I am + deeply ashamed of myself for having ever believed it. It is all in the + past now, of course—we are both of us married, and we shall probably + never meet again. But it will be a help to us in future to have had this + little talk—will it not, Frank?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, while Sallie Ann Armistead recovered from her dismay, + and got back a little of her fighting power. Suddenly she rose: + “Virginia,” she said, firmly, “you are neglecting your guests.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you ought to go until Frank has got himself together,” said + Sylvia. “Frank, can you sort your cards now?” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia!” commanded Sallie Ann, imperiously. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Witherspoon rose, and so did Sylvia. “We can’t stay here alone,” said + she. “Frank, will you take Mrs. Witherspoon in?” And she gently but firmly + took Mrs. Armistead’s arm, and so they marched back into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Dolly and Emma had progressed to separate tables, it developed, so that + the ordeal of Frank and Sylvia was over. Through the remainder of the + evening Sylvia chatted and played, and later partook of refreshments with + Malcolm McCallum, and mildly teased that inconsolable bachelor, quite as + in the old days. Now and then she stole a glance at Frank Shirley, and saw + that he was holding up his end; but he kept away from her, and she never + even caught his eye. + </p> + <p> + At last the company broke up, and Sylvia thanked her hostess for a most + enjoyable evening. She stepped into the motor with Celeste, and sat with + compressed lips, answering in monosyllables her “little sister’s” flood of + excited questions—“Oh, Sylvia, didn’t you feel perfectly <i>terrible?</i> + Oh, sister, I felt <i>thrills</i> running up and down my back! Sister, + what <i>did</i> you say to him? Sister, do you know old Mr. Perkins kept + leaning over me and asking what was happening; and how could I shout into + his deaf ear that everybody was stopping to hear what you were saying to + Frank Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the ride, there was Aunt Varina waiting up as usual—to + renew her own youth in the story of the evening, what this person had worn + and what that person had said. But Sylvia left her sister to tell the + story, and fled to her room and locked the door, and flung herself upon + the bed and gave way to a torrent of weeping. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Celeste went up, and finding that the door between her + room and Sylvia’s was unlocked, opened it softly, and stood listening. + Finally she stole to her sister’s side and put her arm about her. “Never + mind, sister dear,” she whispered, solemnly, “I know how it is! We women + all have to suffer!” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia’s Marriage, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA’S MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5807-h.htm or 5807-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/0/5807/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + + +</pre> + + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/sylvm10.zip b/old/sylvm10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5970f4c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/sylvm10.zip |