XV
Things have been in a state of quiescence for the last few days and then, yesterday, there was a new development.
When I say things have been quiescent, I mean on the outside. In the inside I have been as far from quiescent as I ever was in my life. That last year with Harmon wasn’t nearly so bad as this. It was just my own affair then. When your heart is breaking you can sit quiet and listen to it cracking and it doesn’t matter to anybody but yourself. It’s just a chance of fate that you should be a little floating particle full of pain. The world goes on the same and you don’t matter.
But when other people’s destinies are tangled up in yours, when you have to decide what’s best for them with your reason and your inclination pulling different ways—that’s having trouble for your shadow in the daytime and your bedfellow at night. If I was an indifferent spectator who could stand off and study the situation with an impartial eye, I could come to a just decision. It’s trying to lift myself out of it and be fair that’s so agonizing—it’s being afraid that I may tell for my own sake, betray Lizzie to save myself.
There are strong, clear-minded people who could think straight to a conclusion, take the responsibility and act, then eat their dinner and go peacefully to bed. I’m not one of them. I’ve always been the kind who sees both sides and wavers, afraid if they champion one they may be unjust to the other. Last night I was thinking of the girl in The Master Builder when she tells the hero that he hasn’t “a robust conscience.” Then I thought of John Masters and how he broke the fetters of his own forging. They were both right. I can see it and I admit it but I never would have had the courage to do as they did. To hurt and hurt for yourself—no, I couldn’t.—But I must get on to the new development.
Betty came yesterday afternoon and took me for a drive. Under normal circumstances this is one of my greatest treats. To be with Betty is always good, and to watch the glory of New York on parade while Betty explains charitable schemes or gives advice on the best mode of life for a widow of moderate means, has been one of the joys of the winter. Then there were small individual pleasures that I silently savored as we glided along: the springy softness of the cushions, the fine feel of the fur rug, wonderful clothes in show-windows, and wonderful clothes out of show-windows making beautiful ladies more beautiful. And there was an experience that never lost its zest, full of a thrilling significance: when we all stopped, a block of vehicles from curb to curb, and let the foot passengers pass. It assured me we were still a democracy. If we had lived in the days before the French Revolution we’d have gone dashing along and the foot passengers would have had to dodge our proud wheels at the peril of their lives. Now we wait on their convenience. I have seen the whole traffic drawn up while a tramp shuffled across, while we millionaires—I am always a millionaire when I ride with Betty—sat back and were patient. I have always hoped Thomas Jefferson was somewhere where he could look down and see.
Yesterday all joy and interest were gone from it. Odd how our inward vision gives the color to externals; how, when our spirit is darkened, the sun gets dim and the sky less blue. We paint the world ourselves. I remember after my mother died that for a long time all nature looked gray and my close cozy intimacy with it was suddenly gone. But, that’s another story.
Betty lifted me out of a depressed silence by a suggestion; she said it had been germinating in her mind since Sunday. Wouldn’t it be better, instead of starting her as teacher, to send Lizzie Harris to Europe for several years to go on with her studies?
“She oughtn’t to give up all she’s done, and teaching singing when you’ve expected to be a prima donna yourself, isn’t a very exhilarating prospect.”
It was so like Betty! Always thinking of something just a little bit better. Mrs. Ashworth never would have got beyond the teaching and it had taken Roger and Betty to get her that far. I straightened up and felt that the afternoon was brightening.