And was she to sacrifice her work to satisfy the petty vanity of such a man? Was she to admit her failure, to feign life-long admiration for his work, when she knew that with practice she could almost certainly do better?
No!
The answer came decisively.
As if to clinch it, she thrust the manuscript back in its drawer and turned the key with a decisive twist.
She would not sacrifice her own career to his conceit. He had spoilt Ruth's life, used her as a housekeeper until she was too old for anybody else; then turned her out—and now he thought he could spoil hers. And every one would spare him, because they were sorry! Why should she spare him? Why should she be sorry?
Helena stood with her fingers still upon the key, transfixed by the enormity of this new thought.
Why should she either smother her ambition or else creep away, sparing him the reason; leaving Ruth to be his victim once again?—poor Ruth, emerging into life again, escaped from this vampire who had left her an old withered woman at the age of forty.
No, she would not. Others might spare him; she would tell the truth.
She would go now, whilst Ruth was upstairs, and would tell him what she, what Ruth, what everybody thought. She would tell him that he was murdering the love of those who loved him by his own selfish blindness; that all this nonsense about moods and inspiration was mere pose, that you could write quite well wherever your two candlesticks were put; that every one saw through him but himself; that he should be proud of his wife's success, not jealous, if he had a spark of decent feeling in him; would tell him she too was ambitious, though a woman, she too had a life to live; that she was bored all day, with him at work, and now she meant to have her own work too; that Zoë had been right—yes, had been Helena, Helena not then but Helena as she was now; that she saw now, as Zoë had declared, she had been nothing but a background to his work. Now that was over and she would sacrifice herself no longer.
Oh yes, and she would tell him the rest too—that she was fond of him, would always be; admired him for his strength as much as she despised the flabby Mr. Alison of whom he had been jealous; that she would try to make him happy, comfortable and happy, not neglect the house; and they would be proud of each other's work, and even if she was not a success, her little earnings would all help to pay those horrid bills.