That she would have, sooner or later, some remarkable conversation with Miss Nethersole was an idea that had dawned upon Freda from the first. But until the hour struck for them their acquaintance had been distant.
It had the fascination2 of deep distance. Freda had not been sure that she desired to break the charm. It seemed somehow to hold her safe. From what danger she would have found it hard to say, when Miss Nethersole covered her with so large and soft a wing. Still, they had come no nearer to the friendship which the older woman had offered as the end of their approaches.
It was as if Miss Nethersole were also bound under the charm. When Freda allowed herself to meditate3 profoundly she divined that what drew them on and held them back was an uncertainty4 regarding Wilton Caldecott. Neither knew in what place the other really held him. The first day they met each had searched, secretly, the other's face for some betrayal of his whereabouts; each, it had seemed to Freda, had shrunk from finding what she looked for; shrunk even more from owning that there might be anything to find.
And he had hoped that she would "like Julia."
If reticence5 were required of them, Freda felt that her poor little face could never rival the inimitable reserves, the secure distinction of Miss Nethersole's. There was nothing, so to speak, to take hold of in Julia's dark, attenuated6 elegance7; nothing that betrayed itself anywhere, from the slender brilliance8 of [Pg 32] her deep-lidded, silent eyes, to her small flat chin, falling sheer from the immobile lower lip. Miss Nethersole's features and her figure were worn away to the last expression of a purely9 social intention. Quite useless to look for any signs of Wilton Caldecott's occupation. Freda was convinced that, if the lady possessed10 any knowledge of him, she would keep it concealed11 about her to the end of time. She was aware of Miss Nethersole's significance as a woman of the larger world. It was wonderful to think that she held the clue to the social labyrinth12, in which, to Freda's vision, their friend's life was lost. She knew what ways he went. She could follow all his turnings and windings13 there; perhaps she could track him to the heart of the maze14; perhaps she herself was the heart of it, the very secret heart. She sat alone for him there, in the dear silent place where all the paths led. The very thickness and elaboration of the maze would make their peace. Freda's heart failed her before the intricacy of Miss Nethersole's knowledge of him, the security of her possession. Miss Nethersole was valuable to him for her own sake, it being evident that she had no "gift."
It was her personal sufficiency, unsustained as she was by anything irrelevant15, that made Julia so formidable.
She had never seemed more so to Freda than on this afternoon when they sat together among the adornments of her perfect drawing-room. Everything about Miss Nethersole was as delicate and finished as her own perfection. She was finely unconscious of all that Freda recognized in her. It seemed as if what she chiefly recognized in Freda was her gift. She had been superbly impersonal16 in her praise of it. It was the divine thing given to Freda, hers and yet not hers, so [Pg 33] wonderful, compared with the small pale creature who manipulated it, that it could be discussed with perfect propriety17 apart from her.
And to-day Wilton Caldecott's name had risen again in the discussion, when Julia had the air of insisting more than ever on the gift. It was almost as if she narrowed Freda down to that, suggesting that it was the only thing that counted in her intimacy18 with their friend.
"Yes," said Freda, "but the extraordinary thing is that I hadn't it when first he knew me."
"He saw what was in you."
"He said the other day he saw nothing. I was too bad for words."
"Oh, I know all about that. He told me."
"What did he tell you?"
"That you were like a funny little unfledged bird, trying to fly before its wing feathers were grown."
"I hadn't any. I hadn't anything of my own. Everything I have I owe to him."
"Don't say that. Why should you pluck off all your beautiful feathers to make a nest for his conceit19?"
"Is he conceited20?"
Freda said to herself, "After all, she doesn't count. She doesn't know him."
Miss Nethersole smiled. "He's a male man, my dear. If you want him to have an even higher idea of your genius than he has already, tell him—tell him you owe it all to him."
"Ah," said Freda, "you don't know him."
"I have known him," said Miss Nethersole, "for fifteen years. I knew him before he married."
She had proved incontestably the superiority of her knowledge. Freda felt as if Miss Nethersole were looking at her to see how she would take it. There [Pg 34] was an appreciable21 moment in which she adjusted her mind to the suddenness of the revelation. Then she told herself that there was nothing in it that she had not reckoned with many times before. It left her relations with Wilton Caldecott where they were.
There was nothing in it that could change for her the unique and immaterial tie. She was even relieved by the certainty that it was not Julia Nethersole, then, after all. She had an idea that she would have grudged22 him to Julia Nethersole.
Julia was much too well-bred to show that she had the advantage. She took it for granted that Miss Farrar was also acquainted with the circumstances of Wilton Caldecott's marriage.
"That," said she, "is what makes him so extraordinarily23 interesting."
"His marriage"—Freda hesitated. She wondered if Miss Nethersole would really go into it.
"Some people's marriages are quite unilluminating. Wilton's, I always think, is the key to his character, sometimes to his conduct."
Freda held her breath. She saw that Miss Nethersole was about to go in deep.
"He has suffered"—Miss Nethersole went on—"all his life, from an over-developed sense of honor. He could see honor in situations where you wouldn't have said there was the ghost of an obligation. His marriage was not an affair of the heart. It was an affair of honor. The woman—she's dead now—was in love with him."
"Did you know her?"
"No. She was not the sort of person you do know. She was simply a pretty, underbred little governess. He met her—on the staircase, I imagine—in some house he was staying in, and, as I say, she was in love [Pg 35] with him. She was a scheming little wretch24, and she and her people made him believe that he had compromised her in some shadowy way. I suppose he had paid her a little ordinary attention—I don't know the details. Anyhow, he was so fantastically honorable that he married her."
"Poor thing. It must have been awful for her, to be married in that way—for honor!"
"She didn't consider it awful in the least. She didn't mind what she was married for, so long as she was married. She was that sort. Do I bore you?"
"No. You interest me immensely."
"Of course they were miserable25. He couldn't make her happy. Wilton is, in his way, a rather spiritual person, and his wife was anything but. Marriage can be an awful revelation to a nice woman. Sometimes it's a shock to a nice man. Wilton never got over his shock. It left him with a morbid26 horror of the thing. That's what has prevented him from marrying again."
Miss Nethersole drew a perceptible breath before going in deeper.
"I've heard people praising his faithfulness to his wife's memory. They little know. He was loyal enough to the poor woman while she lived, but he's giving her away now with a vengeance27. Several very nice women would have been more than willing to marry him; but as soon as he knew it——"
"Knew it? How could he know it?"
"Well, the ladies were very transparent28, some of them. And when they weren't there was always some kind person there to make them so. And when he saw through them—he was off. You could see the horror of it coming over him, and his poor terrified eyes protesting—'I'd do anything for you—anything, my dear girl, but that.'" [Pg 36]
Julia paused, as if on the brink29 of something still profounder. Evidently she abhorred30 the plunge31, while Freda shrank from the horrible exposure of the shallower waters.
"And those women," said Julia, after meditation32, "wondered why they lost their friend. They might have kept him if they'd only kept their heads."
It was at this point that Freda felt that Julia was trying to drag her in with her.
"How awful," said she, "to feel that you'd driven a man away!"
"It might be more awful," said Julia, "for him to feel he had to go."
"That's it," said Freda. "Had he?"
"Well, if he was honorable, what else was there for him to do?"
"To stay by those women, and see them through—if he was honorable."
"Oh—if they'd have been content with that. But you see, my dear, they all wanted to marry him."
"If they did," said Freda, "that shows that they didn't really care."
"They cared too much, I'm afraid."
"Oh, no. Not enough. If they'd cared enough they'd have got beyond that. However much they wanted it, they'd have given it up, rather than let him go."
As she said it she felt a blessed sense of relief. The deeper they went the more the waters covered her.
"You'll never get a man," said Julia, "to understand that. If he cares for a woman he won't be put off with anything short of marrying her. So he naturally supposes——"
Julia had now gone as deep as she could go. [Pg 37]
"Yes," said Freda. "It's in the things he naturally supposes that a man goes so wrong."
"Is it?" Julia paused again. "I don't know whether you realize it, but you and I are the only women Mr. Caldecott ever goes to see. I dare say you were surprised when he told you about me. I was amazed when he told me about you. I've no doubt he made each of us think we were the one exception. You see, we are rather exceptional women, from his unhappy point of view. He knows that I understand him, and I'm sure he thinks that he understands you——"
"So he feels safe with me?"
"Gloriously safe. You are a genius, above all the little feminine stupidities that terrify him so. From you he expects nothing but the unexpected. You're outside all his rules. I'm so much inside them that he knows exactly what to expect. So he's safe with both of us. It's the betwixt-and-between people that he dreads33."
Julia rose up from the depths rosy34 and refreshed. Freda panted with a horrible exhaustion35.
"I see," she said. And presently she found that it was time for her to go.
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1
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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2
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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3
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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6
attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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7
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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8
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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9
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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10
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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11
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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12
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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13
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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14
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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15
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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16
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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17
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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18
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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19
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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21
appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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22
grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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24
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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27
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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28
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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29
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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30
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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31
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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32
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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33
dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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35
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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