I find a pitiful entry that I made only a few months before Julian was killed. In a fit of anger he had left me, accusing me of being a drag on his life, saying that I was to blame for all his follies. He was going to be rid of me now. So he took all the money in the house and went off—I should never see him again. At last I had what I had longed for, my freedom, he had given it to me, flung it in my face. And then—
This is what I wrote six weeks later:
“Well, I'm a failure all right. Never again may I think well of myself or feel that I am entitled to the joys of life. For I'm just a plain moral coward. I couldn't even keep what was forced on me—my liberty.
“Last Wednesday he came back, such a miserable wreck of a man, so utterly broken in every way that it would have moved a heart of stone. Inside of me is a sorrow too deep for expression, but somehow a peace also. Now I am sure that my bondage will never cease. But I couldn't refuse to take Julian back when I saw what a state he was in. His spiritual abasement was such an awful thing that I could not shame him by even letting him know that I understood it.”
∵
Monday.
I walked for hours beside the ocean, watching the waves, the sky, the soaring gulls,—trying to tire myself out, searching into my heart for the truth about my life—about my illness. I cannot find the truth. I have done what Dr. Owen told me to do as well as I can and—I do not see that any good has come of it. I have stirred up ghosts of the past—leering ghosts, and I hate them. I am sick of ignoble memories. I want to close forever the door on those unhappy years. I want to be well, to live a sane life, to have a little pleasure; but....
∵
Thursday.
I am tired of Atlantic City. I am going back to New York tomorrow. No doubt I have benefited by these days of rest and change. My bad dreams are gone and I have only heard the Voices once. Dr. Owen will say that his prescription has been efficacious, but that is not true. I know They are waiting for me in the city, waiting to torture me. Then why do I go back? Because it is my fate. I am driven on by some power beyond my control—driven on!