CHAPTER XXVI
THE STROKE
Medora’s native instinct, to fight for her own hand at the expense of the community, now held some strife with her appreciation of what Kellock had done and suffered on her account. At first a sense of justice strove to remind her of their relations and of Jordan’s views with respect to her and her future. She was, in fact, as he had declared, his paramount thought and first object in life. And this he felt without any diminution of his personal ambitions. But he had supposed, and she had given him every reason to suppose, that his ambitions and hers were one; that she desired nothing better than to help him in his propagandist work. During the earliest days of their association in London, this had been her purpose and assurance; but it was so no longer. The artificial existence with Kellock had knocked all the poetry out of their relation, and his aspirations now found her averse. Because Kellock could not understand what made life worth living to her, Medora’s interest and loyalty alike were withered.
Yet now she put up a struggle for him and it lasted longer than might have been expected. Indeed, it endured for twenty-four hours, until the morning following upon a sleepless night. Then her chivalry and general vague sense of her obligations went down before what she believed, perhaps rightly, was her common sense. She began to see, with a dazzle of conviction, that Kellock was not at all the husband for her; but her woman’s wit put it differently: she assured her soul that she was not the wife for Kellock. This step once taken, those that followed were exceedingly swift, and they appeared first in a conversation, not with the man she desired to meet, but with another. For the present she concealed her new impressions from her family, but on the following Sunday, Mr. Knox came to tea, and was pleasant and agreeable, according to his custom. Tom and Mary Dolbear, gratified to observe the large philosophy with which he had taken his defeat, welcomed him and forgot the hard things they had said and thought about him.
Then, as the hour came for the visitor to return home, Medora made an excuse to accompany him. She was going into Dene to see Daisy Finch and have supper with her and her mother—so she said; and together they went their way.
She wasted no time with Mr. Knox, and having told him what she hungered to tell, changed her mind about Daisy Finch, and went home again. Upon the whole, Mr. Knox disappointed her at this meeting, yet looking back over their conversation, she felt not sorry it had taken place, though her face burned a little when she considered the full weight of some of the vatman’s remarks. He did not spare her; but she began to get accustomed to hard words now, and her sagacity told Medora that where there was blame, there was hope. To be past censure is to be past forgiveness.
She began at once to Mr. Knox upon the subject of her husband, and her second sentence indicated the vast strides that her ambition had made. The whole picture of Medora’s future in her own eyes was now changed. The new vision looked wild indeed, and made even Medora wince a little to hear it in her own tongue; yet it did not astonish Philander as much as she imagined, though she had reached it sooner than he expected her to do so.
“You see Mr. Dingle sometimes, don’t you, Mr. Knox?” began Medora.
“I do, my dear, and you mustn’t object if I say I think very well of him. Curiously enough I think a lot of Mr. Kellock, too. Each have got very good points in his way, and you can learn from them as well as teach them. Of course, it’s a ticklish business being friends with both, but so I am, and hope to continue.”
“For God’s sake, then, implore of Ned not to divorce me! Oh, Mr. Knox, you’re wise and old, but you may still remember what it was to be young. Everything’s gone if he divorces me—everything. I’ve been pixy-led, fooled—yes, I have. And I’ve ruined two good men, through no fault of theirs, or mine. It wasn’t Kellock’s fault, nor yet Ned’s; and I’ll swear on my knees it wasn’t mine—not altogether, because something not myself drove me and blinded me and dazed me.”