“Doesn’t that show I said nothing in my letter he didn’t deserve? A man who’d do that—”
Medora felt a shadow of dislike towards Jordan. It was not the first time that any suspicion of such an alarming sensation had coloured her thoughts before his temperate statements and unimpassioned speeches. Was he never to let himself go? But she fled from her impatience as from a supreme danger. Kellock must be her hero, or nothing. She must continue to see in him her salvation and her tower of strength; she must let him feel and understand the reverence, the adoration in which she held him and his superb sacrifice on the altar of the conventions. For such a man the things that he had done were greater far than they had been in the case of others. He had his future to think of as well as Medora’s. He must not be allowed off his pedestal in her regard for an instant. She realised that, and perceived how her own peace of mind depended entirely on keeping him there. Her histrionic gifts were again to be called to her assistance.
Watchfully she would guard her own mind against any doubt of Jordan’s essential qualities. His virtue and valour culminated, of course, in the heroism that had run away with her and rescued her from her dragon. The only weak and unintelligent action impartial judges might have brought against Kellock must be to Medora his supreme expression of masterful will and manly humanity. Even granting his love, indifferent spectators had criticised Kellock most for believing Medora at all, or allowing the assurances of such a volatile person to influence him upon such a crucial matter. His real heroism and distinction of mind was lost upon Medora; the achievements she valued in him belonged to his weakness of imagination and a lack of humour destined to keep him a second class man. He belonged to the order of whom it may be said that they are “great and good,” not that they are “great.” But the good qualifies—even discounts—the great.
While Jordan had to be supported on his pillar at any cost if Medora’s position was to be endurable, conversely it was necessary to preserve her acute sense of Ned Dingle’s evil doing. There must be no slackening of her detestation there; and that it now became necessary to practise a large patience with Jordan and take no farther steps to impress upon him her scorn of one so mean and base as Ned, quite distracted Medora. Herein Kellock’s composure at first mystified her until he made clear the need for it.
“To reasonable minds like yours and mine,” he said, “no doubt it does appear rather improper that we should have to be worldly wise about Mr. Dingle. But, though the wisdom of the world is foolishness in the mind of most clean thinking and honourable men, Medora, especially in a case like this, yet I don’t see that we can do anything. We must just bend to the law and mark time, I suppose. I don’t go so far as to say we should demean ourselves to cultivate Mr. Dingle and be humble to him, or anything like that; but it’s no good going out of the way to vex him more than we are bound to do; because, the law, being what it is—all on his side seemingly, we’re more or less powerless and quite in his hands. It’s abominably wrong it should be; but we’ve got to recognise the world as it is, and pay it the hypocrisy that virtue owes to vice sometimes. In fact we’ve got to keep our nerve and lie low and wait for him. And being what he is—hard and up against us and still smarting under what happened—he may not be moved to do right all in a minute.”
“He’s making fools of us in fact—that’s his low revenge,” said Medora.
“He may think so in his ignorance, but he’s wrong. Only two people can make fools of us,” answered Jordan, “and that’s we ourselves. We’ve took the high line and we’re safe accordingly. All he’ll get out of delay is the pangs of conscience; and what’s more he’ll put himself wrong with the rest of the world.”
“That’s some comfort,” said Medora. “They smart most who smart last, I reckon. All the same it’s a blackguard thing on his part.”
“The law moves a lot slower than human passion,” he explained, “and though we say hard speeches against it, there is some advantage in a machine that can’t be got to gallop as fast as man’s hate. It may happen that, as time goes on, he’ll come to see that it’s a very unmanly thing to talk about damages, because when it comes to that, what price the damage he inflicted on your heart and nature? Many a woman would have gone down under the persecution, and it was only your own fine spirit and bed-rock pluck and courage that kept you from doing so.”
Medora approved these opinions, for praise was her favourite food, and had Kellock understood the powers of flattery, he had always succeeded in calming her tempests and exacting patience and obedience. But he loved her and his love saw her in roseal light as a rule. He forgave her little turpitudes and bitternesses and ebullitions, for was it not natural that one who had so cruelly suffered should sometimes betray those human weaknesses from which none is free?