This struggle to finish his work in the face of the stubborn facts at moments obliterated the crusading spirit; the doubts of Kathryn and even Mary-Clare’s pervading insistence. He hated to be beaten at his own job.
Love’s supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman––must be man’s ideal, of course!
The ugly business of the world had to be got through, and man often had to set love aside––for honour. “But, good Lord!” Northrup argued, apparently to his useless right hand, what would become of the spiritual, if woman got to setting up little gods and bowing down before them? Why, she would forego her God-given heritage. To her, love must be all. Above all else. Why, the very foundations of life were founded upon that. What could be higher to a woman? Man could look out for the rest, but he must be sure of his woman’s love! The rest would be in their own hands––that was their individual affair.
And then, at this crucial moment, Mary-Clare would always intrude.
“It’s what one does to love!” That was her stern ultimatum. “Love’s best proof might be renunciation, not surrender!”
“Nonsense!” Northrup flung back. “How then could a man be sure? No book with such an ending would stand a chance.”
“You must not harm your book by such a doubt. That book must be true, and you know the truth. Women must be made glad by it, men stronger because someone understands and is brave enough to say it.”
But Northrup steeled his heart against this command. He meant to finish his book; finish it with a flaming proof that, while men offered their lives for duty, women offered theirs for love and did not count the cost, like misers or––lenders.
One afternoon Northrup, the ink still wet upon the last sheet of his manuscript, leaned back wearily in his chair. He could not conquer Mary-Clare. He let his eyes rest upon his awakening city. For him it rose at night. In the day it belonged to others––the men and women, passing to and fro with those strange eyes and jaws. But when they all passed to their homes, then the lone city that was his started like a thing being born upon a hill.