At this point the discussion was apt to become heated, Miss Carter contending that Flora's things should be sent to one of the negro schools in the South, and Mrs. Payton standing4 firmly for the Salvation Army. Frederica, asked to decide between them, said, briefly5, "Burn 'em."
"Wouldn't that be wasteful6?" Mrs. Payton objected, gently.
She was very gentle to Fred now. Her daughter's statement about being "in love" had been a very great[Pg 229] shock to her, not because of its "indelicacy," painful as that was, but because it awoke in her an entirely7 new idea: Freddy was unhappy! It had never occurred to Mrs. Payton that Freddy could be unhappy about anything—Freddy, who was always so strong and self-sufficient! That she should suffer, made her mother feel nearer to her than she had since Frederica was little, and had scarlet8 fever, and Mrs. Payton hadn't taken off her clothes for four days and four nights. So, when her daughter's drooping9 lip expressed what she thought of that endless gossiping about Death outside Mortimore's door, Mrs. Payton was very gentle, and only said that it would be wasteful to burn Flora's things. Then she tried to explain that she sat near Morty to cheer Miss Carter. (Freddy must not think it was on Morty's account! It would be too dreadful if now, "on top of everything else," she should be brooding over those impatient words, repented10 of the minute they were spoken!)
But Fred displayed no signs of brooding over anything. She took up her interest in Life just where it had paused for a moment at the touch of Love. But before she settled down into the commonplaces, of real estate, and dances, and league work, she had that Pause out with herself....
She told her mother that she was going to the bungalow12 to put things to rights. (This was about five days after Flora's death.) "Everything is just as we left it. She hadn't even washed the dishes. And I left a few things there that I must bring home."
"Take Anne to help you."
[Pg 230]
"Anne would have a fit—she's so superstitious13! No; I don't need anybody."
"I'll go with you," Mrs. Payton ventured.
Fred was frankly14 amused at the suggestion. "You! No; much obliged, but I don't want any one."
Mrs. Payton did not urge; back in her mind there was a dim memory of a time when she, too, had been alive—and suffered, and wanted to be alone. She said something, hesitatingly, to this effect to Arthur Weston, who dropped in that morning to know how they were getting along.
"Freddy has gone out to that awful place, to pack up," she said; "I'm sure it's very damp, and I'm terribly afraid she'll take cold. But she would go. Sometimes a person likes to be by themselves," she ended.
He was surprised at such understanding; but he only said, quietly, that he would drive out late in the afternoon and bring her home in his car. "She can have eight hours to herself," he said. (He had had some hours to himself in the last few days; hours of pacing up and down his library—saying over and over, "If Maitland isn't in love with her, why shouldn't I at least tell her that I—? No! I have no chance. But if she should forget him? No, no. I mustn't think of it!")
For the eight hours alone Frederica had been thirsting:
Solitude15.
Lapping—lapping—lapping water.
Wind in the branches.
Shadows traveling across distant hills.
And no human face! No human sound!
[Pg 231]
So, with Zip under her arm, she took the early train to Lakeville.
From the station she walked along the sandy road where dead leaves had begun to fill the wheel-ruts, down to the huddle16 of boarded-up cottages on the shore. The last time she had gone over that road, how thick the fog had been! Now, the lake was a placid17 white shimmer18 against the horizon's brooding haze19, and the glimmering20 October sunshine lay like gilt21 on the frosted ferns and brakes. She did not meet a single soul. Except for Zip, dashing along in front of her, or an occasional crow cawing, and flapping from one tree-top to another, there was only the wide silence of the sky. The sense of getting away from people gave her a feeling of relief that was almost physical.
When she reached Lakeville the sight of Sunrise Cottage was like a blow; she stopped short, and caught her breath. The lamp Howard had left outside the house had fallen over—perhaps a squirrel had upset it; the solferino shade was in fragments; leaves had blown up on the porch. But the flinching22 was only for a moment—then she turned the key in the lock.
The bungalow, with its shut-up smell, was just as they had left it, except that, in some indescribable way, it had lost the air of human habitation. Perhaps because Death had been there. In the faint draught23 from the open door a sheet of music slipped from the piano to the floor and some ashes blew out of the fireplace. The cottage was absolutely silent.
Frederica felt cold between her shoulders. She did not[Pg 232] want to go in, she did not want to have to turn her back on the stairs that led up to the vacant rooms—Flora's room! She shivered; set her lips and entered—but she left the door open behind her into the living world.
The emptiness of the house clamored in her ears. She found herself looking, with a sort of fascination24, at the disorder25 of the chairs—which stood just as Howard had pushed them aside when they brought Flora in. On the arm of the morris chair was a brass26 plate heaped with cigarette-ashes. For some obscure reason those ashes seemed to her unendurable—how they had glowed, and faded, and glowed again, filling the room with warm and lazy smoke, while she and Howard—She lifted the little tray and threw the ashes, almost with violence, into the fireplace. The movement broke the spell that had held her there looking at things—at the learned books, filmed with dust, at the half-burned candles, at the withered27 roses on the table. Zip nosed about at that water-soaked spot on the rug, and she spoke11 to him sharply; then went over and closed the piano.
After that, it was easier to go out to the kitchen, though there was still a tremor28 at the thought of those empty rooms overhead. Spread out on the table were the cards, just as Flora had left them. In the sink was the clutter29 of unwashed dishes.... Fred drew a long breath, opened all the windows, lighted a fire in the stove, and went to work.
Of course the exertion30 of packing and cleaning was a relief. There was a great deal to do. So much that she felt at first that she should need another day to get[Pg 233] through with it. But her capability31 was never more marked—by noon she began to see the end. She ate her luncheon32 walking about, holding a sandwich in one hand and packing books with the other. She had arranged with her landlord to send a van to the cottage for the piano, and it was also to carry her things back to town; she had thought of every detail. It was the way she did all her work—drawing up leases, or talking to women's clubs, or, of late, "making things pleasant" at Payton Street. Even now, shrinking from the work that must be done up-stairs, where it was all so empty—so full of Flora!—she was efficient, methodical, thorough. She scanted33 nothing. Yet no amount of busyness dulled the ache of misery34 which had goaded35 her out here to be alone—but she was impatient at herself for feeling the ache.
It was so unreasonable36 to be miserable37!
When everything was done—the kitchen tidied, books and clothing and personal odds38 and ends packed, even the little white curtains in the empty rooms up-stairs, all limp and stringy from the creeping October fogs, pressed and folded and put away—it was still early afternoon. But there was no train into town until five; she would give herself up to the silence.
She went out on the porch and sat down on the lowest step in the sunshine. Zip ran about, chased a squirrel, then, curling up on her skirt, went to sleep. Sometimes she rubbed his ears, sometimes stared out over the lake—
She had been refused. "I am hard hit," she admitted, and her face quivered. However, she could stand being hit! She could take her medicine, and not make faces.[Pg 234] Arthur Weston had said that about her, and she liked to remember it.
Suddenly her mind veered39 away into all sorts of unrelated things. Queer that Howard cared so much for shells. He had found that pearl in a shell; the pearl that she had thought—oh, what a fool she had been!—was meant for her. That old seed-pearl set of her mothers', pin and ear-rings, would make a dandy pendant. She believed she'd ask her mother for it. Except on this shell-digging business, how entirely Howard and she agreed about everything! Few men and girls were so in accord, mentally. Imagine Howard trying to talk to any of the girls of her set—even to Laura—as he talked to her! Why, Laura would be dumb when he got on the things that were worth-while. He had once said that he would rather talk to her than any girl he knew; no—it was to "any man" he knew. For a moment the old pride rose—then fell. She almost wished he had said to "any girl." Well; no girl—or man, either—could have done better than she did on that poster scheme. Howard would say so when she would tell him about it, and she was going to tell him; she was going to talk to him just as she had always talked—about everything on earth! She must; or else he would think that she was ... hard hit; and that she simply couldn't bear! The poster scheme reminded her of some league work she had neglected in these five days of tingling40 emptiness, and she frowned. "Gracious! I must attend to that," she said. She did not know it, but her bruised41 mind was fleeing for shelter into trivialities. Suddenly she took her purse out of[Pg 235] her pocket, thrust a thumb and finger into the place where she kept her visiting-cards, and took out a burnt match. She looked at it for a moment with a grunt42 of bitter laughter; then, finding a little stick, dug a hole in the path, laid the match in, covered it, and stepped on it, hard.
"That is the end," she said.
After a while she realized that she was cold, and went back into the house and kindled43 a fire. She sat down on a hassock, and stretched out her hands to the blaze. The sunshine came through the uncurtained window and laid a finger on the soot44 on the chimney back; its faint iridescence45 caught her eye. Was it only Monday night that she and Howard had sat here by the fire, and he had kicked the logs together on the andirons, and the sparks had caught in the soot and spread and spread in marching rosettes? Why, it seemed years! It was then that she had—asked him.
She wasn't ashamed of it! She had proposed and been refused. "He thought it was stunning46 in me to do it; he said so! He feels as I do about the equality of men and women in this kind of thing, as well as everything else. Of course, he may have said so just to—to make it easier for me? If I thought that—"
The blood rushed into her face. She would not think that! It would be unendurable to think he had not been sincere. "He felt it was perfectly47 all right for me to be the one to speak. And it was!"
Of course it was. There was nothing for her to be ashamed of. She herself had once refused an offer of[Pg 236] marriage, and certainly the rejected suitor had not seemed to suffer any pangs48 of shame! He had displayed a rather mean anger: "He wanted my money, and he was hopping49 mad when he couldn't get it. I didn't want to get anything. I only wanted to give! So why don't I brace50 up? I had a right to 'give.'"
She was quite certain that she had a right, so why was she so miserable? So—ashamed.
In spite of herself she said the word. She had shied away from it, and refused to utter it, a dozen times; but at last, here, alone, she had to tell herself the truth.
She was ashamed.
It is only when Truth speaks to us, as in the cool of the day the Voice of God spoke in the Garden, that the human creature knows he is ashamed. Not to feel Shame is to be deaf to that Voice. Frederica was not deaf; but the Voice was very faint, very wandering and indirect. She could hardly hear it. It spoke first in her vague wish that Howard had said he would rather talk to her than any "girl" he knew; and then it spoke in the wonder whether a man does like to be "asked."
"If he doesn't, it's just idiotic51 tradition. It belongs to the days of slavery!"
But how did the tradition grow up that a woman mustn't ask a man to marry her? She tried to remember something Arthur Weston once said about men being "born hunters." Her lip drooped52, angrily; "Rot!" she said; "when it comes to love, a woman has as much at stake as a man. No, she has more at stake! She has the child. Queer," she thought, "the woman is always the[Pg 237] one who sticks to the child." She wondered if that was because women pay such a price for children? It occurred to her, with a sense of having made a discovery, that all through nature, the mother cares for her offspring just in proportion to what it costs her to bring it into the world.
She rolled Zip over on his back and pulled his ears, her mind dwelling53, with the ancient resentment54 of her sex, upon the unfairness of nature—for the father pays no price! "I wonder if that explains desertion? I wonder if men desert girls, after they've got them into trouble, simply because the child costs them nothing? But how the girls stick to the babies, poor things! They hardly ever go off on their own bat. And yet" (thus the Voice was speaking!), "the child needs a father to take care of it, as much as a mother, so the man and the woman ought to keep together.... But he's the one who goes off! It ought to be tit for tat! Women ought to do the deserting," she said, passionately55; but a moment later came the cynical57 admission: "Men wouldn't mind being 'deserted58.' They'd probably like it. They ought to be made to be constant. When we get the vote, we'll make laws to stop their 'deserting'!"
Then she wavered; as far as laws go, there were enough now. The fact was, men were naturally faithless! "I hate men," she said, between her set teeth. Arthur Weston was right, they were "hunters." They are constant—in pursuit. "We ought to keep them on the hot-foot, then they'd be more keen to stay with us!" In a flash came the rest of Weston's comment: "They won't bag the game, if it perches59 on their fists." Her face reddened[Pg 238] violently. She had come, head on, against a biological fact, namely, that reluctance60 in the woman makes for permanence in the man.
Reluctance!...
Her mother's tiresome61 talk about "cheapness" was suddenly intelligible62. How foolish the word had sounded! Yet, perhaps, under its foolishness lay a primitive63 fact: that the welfare of the child demands a permanent relation between the father and the mother. But in proportion as she is "cheap," he is temporary, and the relationship is jeopardized64!
She did not put it into words, but she realized, amazed, that woman, whether she knows it or not, acts upon this old race knowledge. For the child's sake, she tries, by every sort of lure65, to hold man to permanence which she will herself acquire by the fierce welding of agony. The surest "lure" is based upon the fact that man pursues that which flees; but all the lures66 spring from Nature's purpose to safeguard the child by giving it the care of two instead of one. For the "child" is the most important thing in the world!
Fred was thinking hard. Sometimes she put a stick on the fire, and once she got up and paced about the room. It came over her, with a rush of surprise, that all the talk of what girls must and mustn't do, "all the drivel about 'propriety67'!" was based on this same Race instinct.
She saw that for a girl to love a man, unasked, is neither ignoble68 nor immodest. It is divine to love—always! Such love is a jewel, worn unseen above a girl's heart; to offer it, is to take it out of its white shelter and[Pg 239] fling it into hands that, not having sought it, will soon let it drop between indifferent fingers. She saw how this Race instinct has gradually—and oh, so painfully, oh, so foolishly, with failure, and agony, and tragic69 absurdities70 of convention, taught women the value of the reticence71 of modesty72.
Taught them that they must not be "cheap"!
It came to her that it was the business of women like herself—the "new" women, who are going to set Woman free!—it was their business to discard the absurdities, but keep the beauties and dignities; for beauty and dignity are "lures," too. "They attract. I suppose that is what Grandmother means by 'charm,'" she reflected; "she said I hadn't any." Her face suddenly scorched73; to discover a temperamental deficiency made her wince74; it was like discovering a physical blemish75. She understood, now, what Arthur Weston meant when he "rowed" about her being in the apartment alone with Howard. She had been "cheap." She had "perched on his fist." He had had no inclination76 to bag the game....
It was all very loose and incoherent thinking; she caught at one fact, only to find it contradicted by another fact. But in all her mental confusion one anguished77 wish stood fast:
"Oh, if I only hadn't asked him!"
In her futile78 shame, her head fell on her knees and she caught her breath in a sort of sob79—then sat upright, listening intently: a motor! Howard? In spite of reason, a leap of hope made her gasp80.
She rose quickly, and stood, her hand over her lips[Pg 240]—waiting.... Then she saw the car, and her heart seemed to drop in her breast; it was only Arthur Weston.
He came in, saying, cheerfully, he had heard she was packing, and had come out to bring her back to town. "We can load the tonneau with anything you want to take home," he said; "I suppose you haven't any tea for a wayfarer81?" He was very matter-of-fact; he saw the tremor and heard the catch in the breath.
There was some tea, she said—but no cream; she would boil some water.
He sat down, and she waited on him, getting herself in hand, even to the extent of some pitiful little impertinences. Then, by and by, they carried her things out to the auto82. "My landlord is going to send for the piano," she said; "all I have to do is to close the shutters83."
He went about with her, helping84 her, teasing her, and scolding her because she was tired. When everything was done, and they were just leaving the house, she paused abruptly85, and her hands went up to her eyes.
"Poor Flora!"
He was standing beside her, gentle and pitying, longing86 to draw those shaking hands down from her hidden face: "You were always good to her," he said.
"No!" she said, in a smothered87 voice; "no." Then, suddenly, she turned toward him and sank against his shoulder. He felt the sob that shook her from head to foot. Instinctively88, his arms went about her, and he held her close to him; he was silent, but he trembled and those passionate56 and sensitive eyebrows89 twitched90 with pain. It was only for a moment that he felt her [Pg 241]sobbing weight—then she flung her head up, her face quivering and smeared91 with tears. "What a liar92 I am! I'm not crying about Flora at all. I'm just—unhappy. That's all."
He took her hand and held it to his lips, silently.
"I'm tired," she said; "—no! no! I won't lie—I won't lie! I'm not tired. I've been a fool! That's all. A fool."
"We all have to be fools, Fred, before we can be wise."
She had drawn93 away from him, with a broken laugh. "You don't know anything about it! You don't know what it's like to be a fool!"
"Don't I? I was a very big fool myself, once. But I'm so wise now that I'm glad of all the blows my folly94 gave me then. I'll tell you about it, one of these days."
He told her as they drove back to town. "And," he ended, "I can see that the best thing that ever happened to me was to have Kate jilt me."
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1
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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2
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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5
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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6
wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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7
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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8
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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9
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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10
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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12
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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18
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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clutter
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| n.零乱，杂乱；vt.弄乱，把…弄得杂乱 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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scanted
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| 不足的，缺乏的( scant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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35
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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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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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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39
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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40
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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41
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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42
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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43
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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45
iridescence
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| n.彩虹色；放光彩；晕色；晕彩 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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54
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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jeopardized
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| 危及，损害( jeopardize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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lures
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| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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blemish
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| v.损害；玷污；瑕疵，缺点 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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82
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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83
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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86
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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87
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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89
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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91
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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93
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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