“Occasionally. You see, Georgie is a peculiar character. She is too exacting. She sails serenely on—like an angel—imagining that everyone else is an angel also. Sometimes, when she deserts me for a long time, I don’t live up to scratch. I always complain to her, and tell her about it. But she laughs, and calls me silly.”
“How long have you been engaged?”
“Actually, only about six months.”
“Oh.” The problem fascinated Helen. And it was, for her, an important problem, since she wished to ascertain how much evil she had done. She began to feel extremely unhappy, not only because she had broken her principles, but mainly because she had lost her supremacy as mistress of the situation. Artistically, she had failed. And she writhed at the thought of how the punishment which she had intended to inflict upon Roger had turned itself back upon her.
On the other hand, she told herself inwardly that neither was Roger really in love with Georgiana, nor Georgiana with Roger. She reiterated this several times. It gave her comfort. And she justified her presumption on the grounds that Roger was too easily led astray, and Georgiana apparently too casual, for any very lasting relationship to exist between them.
Toward the close of that evening she began to feel more the mistress of the situation again.
Of course, after Roger had gone back to New York, she experienced some qualms. Indeed, there were times when it made her utterly miserable, to think what she had done, and when Georgiana’s picture would come before her eyes again to arouse a poignant feeling of remorse. Her flirtations had not only been unfair to Roger: they would be considered despicable by Georgiana. And somehow she loved and admired Georgiana. At such times, religion seemed the only outlet to her emotions, and the altar the only pedestal upon which she could place her heart. Thus she was comforted.
Nevertheless, that winter proved to be a period of emotional ups and downs. Roger visited Hartford more and more frequently. Each time he came the same scenes were enacted, alone, somewhere, in the little roadster, on the highway. It was simply inevitable. To begin with, he had kissed her once; and ever after that his kisses seemed not sinful, but natural. She found, also, that he filled a definite place in her life. She needed him. And this need was only the more strengthened by the gradual association of him with her religious emotions. Starting from the feelings of remorse, her prayers gradually changed from fervent requests for strength to keep Roger away, to pleas, as fervent, that he come back again soon. Georgiana was thrust into the background. Although she did not admit it, Helen was in love. In a sense it was only her just share of the spoils that she have these short hours with Roger, while Georgiana was gallivanting about Europe.
But such a state of affairs couldn’t last long. Helen had completely rationalized her principles, and Roger had completely ignored his duties toward Georgiana. He woke up to this fact one day. He was at first disturbed, but later cleared up the matter a little, with a grin, by saying that for a lover there were really no duties. The mere fact that it seemed to be a duty for him to leave Helen alone, proved a great deal—proved, in fact, that he was no longer in love with Georgiana. What a stupid ass he had been, all this time. He was in love with the past, but not with Georgiana. He had allowed a childish emotion to dominate his maturity. Georgiana was a lovely dream; but she could never be his wife. Ah! Who else—who else—but Helen? His mind fluctuated. It hovered indecisively for several weeks. He saw Helen again. They parted, almost tearfully. And then the only course seemed to be to write Georgiana, and break the engagement.
Here was a small tragedy. But he accomplished the task. And the tragic feelings aroused were transferred over to Helen’s personality, making his love for her all the more compelling.