Mrs. Adams was not crushed by this flare of ingratitude. She was simply confirmed in her suspicions.
Meanwhile Mr. Cutter, Senior, was also confirmed in his suspicions. Young George informed him early in August that he just about had enough of the university; he believed the wisest thing for him to do under the circumstances was to settle down to business. He did not name the circumstances, but by this time everybody knew what they were, including Mr. Cutter.
“You are of age—your own man; the decision rests with you,” he had said to George on this occasion, by way of washing his hands of any responsibility, after the cool-headed manner of fathers.
As a matter of fact, he was very well satisfied. Helen Adams was a good girl; pretty; she would eventually inherit some property. Besides, he thought George had better settle early in life, else he might not settle at all.
“I’ve made the decision,” said George, like a man in a hurry. “With the hope of getting a raise in salary soon,” he added, with a note of financial stress in his voice.
“Oh, I guess we could manage that in case of an emergency,” his father replied in the same matter-of-fact tones.
This is the way men deal with one another, even if somewhere behind the dealing deathless love is at stake. And it is not the way women deal with one another. For some reason, when they settle down in their years, and recover the powers of sight according to reason, they are ready to inflict death on love upon the slightest provocation.
Mrs. Adams suddenly and for no apparent cause ceased to speak to Mrs. Cutter. And Mrs. Cutter with no apparent reason began to refer to Helen as “that Adams girl.” The mother of a son is always jealous. She over-estimates him; no matter whom he chooses for a wife, she thinks he might have done better. Mrs. Cutter was free to tell anybody, and did tell quite a number, that she hoped George would marry sometime; but when he did it was natural that she should wish him to choose a girl who would be equal to the position he could give her in the world. George had a future before him. He was no ordinary young man. By these sentiments she left you to infer what she thought of the “Adams girl.” If you ask me, I say she was correct in her opinion, but futilely so.
Mrs. Adams knew that her daughter could not do better in a worldly way than to marry this young man. But when it came to the pinch, she forgot the world and thought anxiously of Helen. She was a good mother. Her instinct, sharpened by years of living in a world where love plays havoc with hopes and happiness, warned her that while George might settle down in business and become eminently successful, she doubted if he could be domesticated in the strictly marital virtues. He had too much temperament. Perhaps this was the way she had of admitting that Helen was a trifle short on temperament, even if she did have a good singing voice. On the other hand, Helen had the awful sanity of seeing things as they are. She had observed this walking mind of her daughter—no wings upon which to carry illusions. How would such a woman adjust herself to a husband who might have recurrent periods of adolescence? She did not know. Therefore she regarded George with a hostile beam in her eye and quit speaking to Mrs. Cutter.
When you consider the seismic disturbances created about them by only two lovers and multiply them by all the other lovers to the uttermost parts of the earth, it is clear that there never can be any lasting peace in this world, though disarmament might be complete, and all nations might pass a law confirming peace and good will. For this is a natural disturbance beyond the diplomacy of diplomats or of confederated congresses to control. It is the perpetual insurrection of life everlasting in the terms of love, which are never peaceful terms.